#Somebody was left at the altar?

[lilacacia]

The amount of cake we find in dumpsters 😧

[dontsh0vethesun]

a solace in the dark

kinktober 2023 masterlist

scarlet witch x reader

18+: mentions of murder and corrupted wanda, smut; wanda has a magic penis teehee, daddy kink, slight dumbification and degradation, restraints, edging, oral, breeding kink, overstimulation, fingering, choking, dom!wanda

wc: 1.4k

You told Wanda from the beginning that you’d be with her until the end. You promised her with each grain of earnestness you could find that whatever she may do, you’ll stay at her side. She’s glad you’re true to your word, that despite the decline into the darkness that took hold of her and dragged her down and down, you stayed with her.

Each life she takes for her own benefit, she dedicates to you. Her sweetest love, the only good part of her heart she has left. The witch adores you more than anything. Even more than the feeling of her magic strengthening with each power she drains, leaving a trail of destruction behind the pair of you that grew with each passing day.

People leave, she knows that fact all too well; chaos magic may fade, but you - her perfect little accomplice - will be with her forever.

She cupped your cheek with a smile reserved for you, towering over your body in nothing but her underwear.

“You were so good for me today,” she murmured along the skin of your throat, dipping her face into the crook of your neck to heat up your skin with her breath. “You know just how to please your witch.”

With each mission she sets the pair of you out on, you prove your loyalty - the Scarlet Witch has taught you well. Death and destruction are a second nature to you now, all too familiar with the way life fades from somebody’s eyes. She’s never loved you more.

Black tipped fingers trailed over your chest, pulling a pert nipple to be rewarded with the small whine at the back of your throat. They wandered over your body as her lips moved with yours, until they found a place around your neck, pushing the breath out of your lungs until your head grew fuzzy.

“Now, be a good girl and take what I give you.”

Her voice was tinged with that darkness that fills you with anticipation, the kind that lets you know she has frustrations to take out on you.

Your hands that had once lay upon her waist were soon above your head, encased in red tendrils that allowed zero movement. No amount of fidgeting got them to give way and the pain that surrounded your wrists with each fight against the restraints made you hungry for her touch.

“Have you not learned by now, sweet girl?” she tutted. “There’s no escape. Even a dumb little whore like you should’ve worked that out.”

She knows you don’t want reprieve but she also knows the forceful promise of having no choice in the matter makes your cunt throb for her; with your naked body in front of her she can see the soaked mess between your legs.

“Or is that all you are, hm?” the woman mused, peppering kisses across every part of your exposed body she could reach. “A stupid little fucktoy. Needy and pathetic, completely dependent on me.”

“Daddy, please,” you breathed out in frustration, only making her smirk at your writhing desperation. “I want you - I need you - please. I’m all yours.”

The woman knows she practically owns you but hearing it from your lips is nothing short of divine.

Your hips lifted into her on their own accord when her tongue licked a swipe through your pussy, grunting into you at your taste. Hands tainted with darkness crawled up your body, nails scraping over your flesh as her tongue worshiped your cunt like drinking from a holy altar.

The peripherals of your vision took in the sight as much as you could in your held down position; the head between your thighs and the lusting eyes that peered up at you, the stygian digits that clawed at your body and toyed with your nipples.

Each flick of her tongue was as perfect as ever, teasingly poking at your entrance and her lips that sucked your swollen bud made your legs threaten to clamp around her head.

Your pulse raced with the fast approaching orgasm readying itself to wash over you and that’s what made it that much more aggravating when she pulled away with glistening lips. She merely chuckled at the pointed glare you shot her way as she wiped her chin clean of your juices and with a flick of her wrist your arms were free and she was on top of you again.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into this pretty belly of yours,” she rasped, her lips ghosting yours with her words as the cock she’d fashioned herself with nudged at your hole. Her soaked pussy had been transformed into a dick that throbbed with ravenous hunger for your body. “You want that? You want daddy to fill you up?”

Your head swam at the mere concept, your body grew painfully hot and any words you tried to muster didn’t seem enough to verbalise your enthusiasm. Instead, you settled on a grasp of fingers around her length, guiding it into you with symmetrical moans from the both of you at the feeling of her sliding into the warmth of your sex.

You clenched around her as she stretched you open, pushing deeply into you until you’d taken it all. With one hand pulling her face to yours for a kiss filled with utter electric fervour, and the other grabbing at the plush of her thigh, you encouraged the snapping of her hips into you.

The gentle pace she set out on contrasted the fierce roughness that surrounded any other part of her life that didn’t involve this. Her and you. This bubble of solace that serves as the only comforting escape either of you can fall into. With all of the loss the both of you have endured, the stability of having each other eternally was sacred.

And to know this all powerful witch could have moans pulled out of her by you only made you love her more. The feeling of your greedy pussy pulling her into you made her groan into your mouth, feeling the throbbing of her cock with each time she bottomed out into you.

The hand that wasn’t holding her body up settled around your neck, stealing the breaths you tried to take whilst she sunk her teeth into your collarbone.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all swollen with my baby,” she uttered, quickening her rhythm with the soon nearing releases creeping up on you.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you stuttered out, wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her into you as much as you could, grabbing at her back with streaks of pink decorating her skin from your nails.

“Me too, honey,” she returned with a choked moan falling into the plane of flesh between your breasts.

With her cock filling you up, and the tightening of your cunt around her it didn’t take much for the both of you to cum; the room was filled with the lewd sounds of skin hitting into skin, groans of pleasure accompanying the audible sound of her filling you up.

You felt the warmth of her seed painting your pussy, overcome with pleasurable sensations as she fucked her cum into you, milking herself of all she could with slow glides of her hips into you; her new position on her knees allowed her to watch your shaking body bathe in the moment. She watched hungrily how she disappeared into you, how your chest rose and fell to catch your breath.

Wanda watched the perfect way you whimpered at the emptiness when she pulled out of you, and how you squirmed at the fingers she thrust into your leaking hole. The cum filled cunt soaked her fingers when they buried themselves into you and the woman couldn’t deny the sadistic amusement she entertained herself with whilst your dazed body begged for reprieve when her thumb rubbed over your sensitive clit.

“One more,” she whispered. “For me.”

You couldn’t even form a half-amused, snarky comeback at her faux innocent tone, too overstimulated by it all as she quickly worked you into another orgasm with the attentive assault she forced onto you.

Tears filled your eyes at the bordering painful ache but you let her pull you over the edge and took the fingers she nudged at your lips, slackening your jaw to suck them into your mouth. Her cum coated your tongue as you licked her digits clean, basking in the taste, distinctly hers and faultlessly sublime.

And when she pulled you into her side whilst your heart still thrummed in your chest, you smiled into the soft kiss she pressed to your lips, knowing that it beat for her and hers beat just for you.

[weirdsht]

I really love characters with the tendency to bleed and be some human sacrifice. Tysm kdj and krs. 😭 i have a new idea altho I'm not sure if somebody's already done this. Cale and the group with someone who coughs out blood everytime they spill spoilers from the tcf novel? Like she's been transmigrated/reincarnated (whatev you desire (⁠^⁠^⁠). Bro is trying to help so bad bc they hate war so they do it subtly and carefully (imagine having to be careful with your wording, I can't even--) but can't help but shit out blood sometimes or most of the time cos they forget and get frustrated

Forgive me for i love miserable characters...

Hardbound (Paperback pt. 2) - Cale x Reader

notes: I decided to link it to another oneshot I did before because I think it fits. I hope that's okay!

tags: blood, like the whole fic is blood, heavy cursing, Cale might be ooc, NOVEL SPOILERS (near the end of book 1)

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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Paperback Navigation Masterlist

Crimson, the colour of Cale’s hair.

That was the colour Cale can see right now. However, he is not looking at his hair.

“Ugh!”

Instead, he was looking at the blood dripping from your mouth.

“Stop speaking. This is not good for you.”

“Why not? You cough up blood all the time. Why can’t I do the same?”

You joked lightly but Cale didn’t like how weak your voice sounded. Indeed, he always coughs up blood. Especially whenever he overuses his ancient powers. But the blood he coughs up is dark red. Dead blood from his regeneration powers cleansing his body.

Not the vibrant crimson blood dripping from your chin. Blood from a beating heart, a sign of vitality as Eruhaben would say.

“I need to continue, you need to know about this. We must hurry up so just- ugh… so just listen.”

When you told Cale you were going to pull a “World Tree-nim and a Cale combo”, he didn’t know what he expected. 

It certainly wasn’t you trying to give out spoilers from your beloved book and coughing out copious amounts of blood.

“There will be monsters. Ones too hard to– Ugh! Fuck! I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

Drip

“That’s two out of five. Those things will be in a pit. It’ll look like statues, you will also see… you will also see an altar there…”

Drip

Drip

“You don’t need to speak anymore. Please, the rest of us will figure it out.”

“No, no. I’m fine really… Bear bastard, you know who it is, hostages. He’ll– Ugh!”

Drip. Drip. Drip

“It’s Tasha’s people. For a summoning– Fuck that one really hurts! I'm trying to speak as vaguely as possible already, what the hell…”

“Please… I’m going to tape your mouth shut if you don’t shut up.”

Drip

Drip

Drip. Drip. Drip

“I’d like to see you try. The tape won’t stick with all– with all this blood.”

“Haaa”

“Enough jokes. The fourth and fifth ones are connected. In Endable, watch out for bears and black– watch out for black mages. And avoid– Shit! Avoid using instant. But I'm not sure if it's… if it's possible… I need to speak… to speak to Raon. The last spoiler is for him– ugh..!”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Cale wanted to refuse. He wanted this to end.

At first, it was just from your mouth.

The blood that is.

Then it started dripping from your left eye. Naturally, your right eye was next.

Then your nose. Then your ears.

Before the commander knew it, your entire face was covered with blood. He tried to wipe it, but they were dripping so quickly that it did nothing.

Cale doesn’t know how are you still conscious. He isn’t even sure if you’re still breathing. That was why he wanted you to shut up. That was why he desperately wanted this to stop.

But it can’t

Cale can’t refuse nor can he end this.

It was because you already made up your mind. And since you did, there’s no stopping you now.

So he gets Raon. Warned the toddler that the sight inside the room would not be pretty, but he must listen. Because their futures are resting upon the words you are about to say.

Upon the words written in your beloved book.

“Human…”

“I know… If you can’t listen I’ll listen for you and rely on the message.”

“No… I’m great and mighty. Because I’m great and mighty I shall listen to this conversation myself.”

Raon flew over to where you were. Placing himself on your lap as he uses his stubby paws to hug you.

“Ah, it feels comforting to have such a great and mighty being comforting me. But you’ll get blood on you– Ugh..!”

Drip. Drip.

The black dragon didn’t care about the blood. He just hugged you tighter at the sound of you coughing up more blood.

“Raon Miru-nim remember this well. Things might get messy and despite my meddling things might still go awry. So I’m telling you right now. In Endable, Cale might become incapacitated to fight– Fuck! Ugh, I promised to not curse in front of you…”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip…

Drip..

“It will be hard, you will need to do everything yourself, without Cale. In fact, you will have to do his job– ugh… but you must do well. Remember, the first thing you have to do is have Mila-nim on standby. She can heal him.”

Cough

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip

“I want to say more… but I’m reaching my limit…”

Raon tightened his hug and you weakly reciprocated it. You aren't sure if the wetness you feel in your shirt is from your blood or the dragon’s silent tears. Nonetheless, you still tried to hug Raon tighter.

In the meanwhile, Cale was already calling for servants and healers to attend to you as soon as you admitted your limit. His voice was laced with unusual panic. It made the others who didn’t know what was happening move with urgency.

“Raon-nim…”

“Yes?”

“You are strong, smart, great and mighty, always remember that.”

You weakly stroked Raon’s back, trying to comfort him in advance for the things about to come.

“Young master what’s going on–”

Beacrox and Ron stopped in their tracks when they saw the condition you were in.

“Ahahaha, you guys are right on time. I think… I’m going.. To…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence for you already fell unconscious. Your body dangerously swaying to fall off from your sitting position on the couch. Luckily, Cale was nearby and managed to catch your falling body.

Cale glanced at you, then he glanced at the open book on the table.

As usual, he couldn’t see what was written on the pages. He could only see the cover title at the front and the synopsis at the back.

But that doesn’t stop him from hating that damned book that put you in this state.

If only you haven’t read that book before coming here.

If only there wasn’t a restriction placed on you by that damned book.

If only…

“Fuck, after this war is done I’m going to try and burn that shitty book one way or another. I don’t care anymore if it’s your favourite.”

note: in case it wasn't clear, the placement of the drips signifies how fast the reader's blood was gushing out

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Good evening Dear Reader, it's been awhile, hasn't it? I've missed you so much! Don't worry darling, I don't return empty handed ;)

Now Presenting...

Starring: Ryomen Sukuna, in a modern day curse-less AU Summary: After being left at the alter by your less than magnificent fiance, you only have one thing on your mind: revenge sex. And who better to help you out than the man your ex hates the most.

Warning: This fic contains a gratuitous amount of smut, both praise and degradation, unprotected sex, face fucking, finger fucking, multiple orgasms, and is all wrapped up in a nice cream-pie. viewer discretion is advised ;)

Okay, admittedly, you may have had this coming. Everyone and his mother warned you about Satoru Gojo. About his womanizing ways, his commitment issues, his demanding job. Still, none of that mattered to you. You were convinced that you could fix him! That love would pull through. He’d realize that you meant more to him than being a playboy, and he’d settle down for you. You knew in your heart that you would have your fairytale ending with him.

Yea well turns out your hearts a dirty fucking liar. The weight of that realization was crashing down hard on you as you nursed a vodka sweet tea at what was supposed to be the reception for your wedding. You secretly vowed to never pick up another romance novel ever again. There’s not many things in this world more mortifying than being left at the altar. Maybe somebody pulling an “I told you so” right after you got left at the altar? That could be just as bad.

“I told you so,” Nanami said as he sat next to you, tie already undone. The groan that escaped your throat was a little more raw than you intended as you dropped your head into your arms. It was official; this was the most humiliating day of your life. 

“Thanks Kento, that's actually exactly what I needed right now,” You muttered as you picked up your head long enough to finish your drink.

“Always happy to help.” He said, patting your back in what you were fairly confident was meant to be comforting. You sighed as you rubbed your face, not even caring if your makeup smudged anymore. You were sure at least your mascara was wrecked. 

“I just don’t understand what I did wrong,” You admitted, turning to face the partying crowd, dancing the night away as if this wasn’t the worst night of your life. At least it was all on fuck faces dime. “I was the perfect fiance! I was loving without being suffocating, I supported him in everything he fucking did, I was faithful, shit man, we fucked constantly, it was like-”

“I don’t need to know the details, thanks.” Nanami said, quickly cutting you off before you put any images in his mind. He shook his head to expel any that had slipped in. “It’s nothing you did Y/n,” He assured you, “Gojo is just not the type to commit to a coffee order, let alone a marriage.” You shook your head, not wanting to accept it.

“I just wish I could find a way to hurt him like how he hurt me.” You muttered. You scanned the faces dancing in the crowd. You were shocked to see how many of his friends were still there. Nanami made sense, at some point he became more your friend than Satorus. But Suguru? That one didn’t make any sense. Unless it was to report back to Satoru what you were do-

Oh.

Oh, he was definitely here to make sure you were a fucking mess. He was here to report back to Gojo that you were indeed destroyed and were never going to get over him. No, No absolutely not, you were not going to let him have that. 

“Y/n, are you listening?” Nanami asked. You absolutely were not. 

“Uh huh, yea,” You nodded, scanning the crowd for a body to get under, “I’ll be sure to start investing tomorrow-”

“Nope, not even close to what I was saying.” Nanami groaned, rolling his eyes. He recognized that look on your face. “What are you scheming Y/n?” It was then your eyes landed on the perfect target- I mean hookup. Ryomen Sukuna, nursing a drink in the back of the venue, watching the party the way a lion watches a herd of gazelles. You never fully understood Satoru’s friendship with him, but you completely understood why he got the invite. The two were less close college friends, and more bitter rivals patiently waiting for the other's downfall. The two constantly had to one up and outdo each other, and you had no doubt in your mind his invitation was just another way to try and show off.

“So, Nanami, You still talk to Ryomen, right?” You asked, ignoring whatever he was saying before.

“I don’t like that you’re asking me that right now.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I just want to know if he’s sing-”

“No.” Nanami said firmly, looking at you with the same eyes a father gives a child that keeps drawing on the walls.

“No he’s taken or no you won’t tell me if he is or not?” you asked, taking out a compact from your bag to check your makeup. It actually wasn’t that bad! Shout out to waterproof makeup!

“No, I’m not going to watch you make mistake after mistake. Ryomen is bad news. You think Gojo was bad? Well he’s ten times worse.” Nanami warned, looking into the crowd to see if he could find Ryomen lurking in it. He didn’t even know he was here! And if anyone would be down to make a bad situation worse, it was him.

“How does my ass look in this dress?” You asked. Satoru had picked it out because it was “danceable” for you. It wasn’t something you would have chosen for yourself, but you still felt like you rocked it. 

“I’m not answering that question.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes in annoyance.

“You don’t have to, I know I look good.” You smiled and winked. The dress may not have been great on you, but it’s fine. Confidence is what's really attractive. You took a deep breath, then went to approach the unapproachable. Ryomen couldn’t have looked more disinterested if he tried, but the closer you got the more interesting he became. His black dress shirt hugged him just a little too tight, leaving very little to the imagination. He had his sleeves rolled up, tattoos on full display while he checked his watch. He looked up from it just in time to capture your eyes with his, intrigue and amusement igniting behind his scarlet irises. 

“Hi Ryomen,” You smiled. You had been working on a loose outline of a script as you made your way to him, but now that you were next to him that script was about as good as your marriage was. And well, considering your marriage never actually happened..

“Hi Y/n. I’m surprised to see you here, honestly.” Ryomen had never been one to beat around the bush. You noticed his eyes fall to your cleavage.Oh good, he was willing to play ball.

“Why are you surprised? It’s my party.” You smiled, resting next to him against the wall.

“I don’t know many people that would want to go to the reception after getting so publicly dumped.” He said. Ouch, ok that was uncalled for. You hoped the sting didn’t show on your face. If it did it didn’t phase him.

“Hey, the party was paid for,” You shrugged, “No use letting a perfectly good open bar go to waste, especially when I’m not paying for it.” You grinned. You had successfully earned yourself a smirk from Sukuna, and a point for the home team.

“I’ll drink to that,” He laughed, “Want me to grab you something?” The ball was in your court, quick, be clever! 

“A drink actually sounds great right now. How about a Sex on the Beach?” You smirked.

“Ooo, I don’t think they’re serving those. How about I give you a Screaming Orgasm instead?” He smirked back.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I may need a Leg Spreader before that.” You hummed, giggling for the first time all night. He nodded, 

“Got it, a Blowjob for me and a Leg Spreader for you. I’ll be right back.” he nodded, walking off. The thought of Ryomen trying to take a blowjob shot, hunched over the glass and trying to drink the liquid without using his hands, genuinely made you laugh a little. You found an empty table nearby to take up residence at, and contemplate if you really wanted to do this. Your relationship was in the gutter, there was no getting around that. Being left at the altar was the kind of blow you can’t just come back from. 

But you didn’t have to fuck his friends (enemy?). Doing this was most definitely an act of war. Whether you were actively together or not, Gojo was extremely territorial of you. You knew that was why Suguru was here; to make sure you didn’t jump into a rebound. If he found out you slept with Ryomen Sukuna of all people on your (almost) wedding night of all days, that would eat him alive from the inside out. There would be hell to pay for sure.

Good. You reminded yourself that you didn’t ask for this fight, but you would win it. You smiled as Ryomen returned with two drinks: a whiskey neat for him and a drink that looked more akin to chocolate milk with whip cream for you. 

“Gotta say; looking a bartender in the eye and asking for a ‘screaming orgasm’ will never not be funny.” He joked, handing you your drink and sitting across from you. 

“Yea, why are so many drinks named like that? It’s weird, right?” You asked, tilting your head in genuine confusion.

“All bartenders are secretly nymphomaniacs,” He said with enough confidence you were almost convinced that was a real requirement to make drinks. “You’d know that if you slept with more.” and he said that as if it was some moral failing on your part that you had not slept with an adequate number of bartenders. It made you laugh.

“Oh, my mistake you’re right. I’ll fix that right now,” You bluffed. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the bar.

“Be my guest.” He offered, calling out the aforementioned bluff. 

“Oh, but that means I’d have to leave my guest alone, and that’s just bad hosting.” You faux pouted. He shrugged.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be alone for very long.” He smirked at you from behind his glass before taking a drink. You wanted to call him out on his bluff, but, you knew he wasn’t bluffing. Satoru had dragged you to enough social events with Sukuna to know that he rarely went home alone. You decided to go with a different strategy. 

“Well, what if I told you I had my sights set on a better prize for tonight?” You asked, batting your eyes and bringing your arms together to emphasize your chest. Sukuna gave a dark grin, seeing right through you.

“I’d say good choice,” he winked, “especially for what you’re trying to do.” Welp, you didn't have anything planned for that comment. You blinked at him

“What do you mean?” You asked, playing dumb. 

“Come on Y/n, I’d hope you’d give me more credit than this. You got stood up at the altar by your asshole, hopefully ex, fiance, and now you want to fuck the guy he hates more than just about anything else to get back at him. It’s a solid plan honestly, and luckily for you, I’ve had my eyes on you since the first time Satoru brought you around.” He was making eye contact with you. The fire in his crimson eyes danced with mirth and hedonistic intent. You realized this was probably why Sukuna had even bothered to show up to the reception. He had your plan before you even did.

Before you could respond, you were startled by a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Hey Y/n, how you holding up?” You looked up to see Sugurus' gentle smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes held nothing but steel and mild resentment. He always looked at you like that. You moved your shoulder from under his hand.

“I’m fine Sug, thanks for asking.” You muttered, taking a long sip of your drink. ‘Don’t sit down, don’t sit down, don’t sit down,’ played in your mind on repeat.

“Of course, Y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He said, sitting down. ‘Fuck!’ “I know this must be hard for you.”

“Actually, You’d be surprised.” You said, getting your nerves back together. This was Gojos' spy. You couldn't let him see you falter. “I’m just ready to be over it.”

“You know what they say; the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody.” Ryomen chuckled as he finished his drink. Suguru glared at him.

“Yea, I never liked that advice.” He said, venom lacing its way into his words as he shot daggers at Sukuna with his eyes. He turned back to you, “It’s always sounded like a good way to make your situation worse.” Was that a threat? 

“I mean, You never know until you try.” You challenged.

“I disagree.” Suguru warned. You brushed him off. 

“Well, If that’s how you feel, so be it. Do me a favor?” You asked, looking at him with your best doe eyes.

“Of course, anything.” He said, plastering back on that fake sympathetic smile.

“Watch my drink for me,” you said, standing up and taking Sukunas’ hand, “Ryomen and I were just about to dance.” You grinned. Ryomen returned your grin ten fold, laughing as he followed you to the dance floor, leaving an almost visibly confused and quite frankly offended Suguru to seeth at the table. Last time you looked back, he had taken out his phone and was furiously typing on it. Good.

“I knew I liked you.” Ryomen whispered into your ear as the two of you made it to the dance floor. 

“Try to keep up with me.” You whispered back. You let the music flow through you, taking a few seconds to find your rhythm before moving your body in time with the music. Ryomen to his credit didn’t miss a beat, dancing not only to the beat, but in harmony with your own body as well. 

As the music played the two of you became more acquainted with each other's moves and dance styles. You thought you would switch it up on him, going in to grind. He didn’t falter for a second, placing a hand on your hip and matching your pace. You expected a lot of things from this exchange, but the electric pulse his touch sent through your body was not one of them.

“Am I keeping up with you?” Ryomen mumbled into your ear, the sound of his rough voice sent waves of heat through you and directly to your core. You spun around to face him, realizing that now he was within kissing distance.

“You’re doin’ well enough,”' you purred to him, running a hand over his chest and god damn. It should be illegal to be that well built. Between the tight shirt and your own sense of touch, you felt like you had a pretty good idea of what he looked like without that shirt on. Still, you desperately wanted to confirm your theory.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Ryomen asked, almost as if he could read your mind.

“I say that's a pretty good idea,” You nodded as the two of you left the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around your waist as he led you to the exit, and you slipped your hand into his back pocket. You really hoped Suguru had a clear view of this. ‘Eat your goddamn heart out Gojo’ You thought maybe just a bit too smugly as you found your way outside, and he gave his ticket to the valet boy.

You took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to ground yourself back into reality. It didn’t feel quite real yet. Your almost four year relationship had just barely ended, and already you were hopping into bed with someone you knew was bad news. Nanami wasn’t joking when he said Sukuna was just Gojo ten fold. In the four years you’d known him, you had watched him lay waste to more hearts than you cared to keep track of. You just hoped you weren’t next. 

All doubts evaporated like water in Texas when Sukuna approached you again. He had unbuttoned three of his shirt buttons, showing off hints that his tattoos didn’t stop at his face and arms. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips. He removed it long enough to exhale smoke as he approached.

“Valets on the way.” He informed you. You willed your brain to think of anything other than Ryomen naked long enough to nod. 

“Good to hear.” You nodded. You had a whole new set of anxieties now. You knew Ryomen had a lot of experience. What if you didn’t measure up? Apparently, your nerves were evident in your features. You caught a smug smile from the pink haired man next to you.

“You nervous?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Me?” You chuckled to hide the fact that yes, you indeed were. “I’ve got nothing to be nervous about Ryomen.” 

“Hmm, Well see about that.” He smirked. Before you had time to ask what the fuck that ment, a far prettier car than you were expecting pulled up. A gorgeous, 1957 Ford Thunderbird, with a beautiful cherry red paint job and, from what you could tell, a black leather interior. You knew that all of Gojos' friends were just as loaded as he was, the fact he had a nice car wasn't a surprise. But you had expected a Bently or a Lambo. Not a classic bombshell.

“You have a T-bird?!” you scoffed in disbelief. He laughed and nodded. 

“You like her?” He asked, beaming with pride as he tipped the valet. “I fixed her up myself.” He added, opening the door for you. You slipped into the soft leather seat, and a few seconds later he joined you.

“I never pegged you as a car guy.”

“You’ve never pegged me at all.” He grinned, laughing at his own joke. 

“Wow, you’re so funny you know that?” You scoffed, dripping in sarcasm. Despite that, you were giggling softly to yourself.

“Oh, I’m the funniest. You’d know that if you didn’t have your head up Satorus ass for four years.” He scoffed, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe that relationship lasted as long as it did. You shrugged softly, not really having a come back for that one. 

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “The dick was just that good.” If you had thought you had heard a full hearty laugh from Sukuna before, you hadn’t. You realized that as he fell into near hysterics over that comment. And, despite yourself, the sound was warm and infectious, making you laugh along with him.

“God, was he your first? That’s the only way I could see anyone thinking Gojo was good at sex, god.” He laughed, taking a drag off his cigarette before dangling it out of the window again.. You raised an eyebrow at that.

“And just how would you know? You get a little close and personal with our boy?” You said, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He was laughing, warm and hearty, again.

“Good God no!”He shook his head, “Some of us have standards! No, I don’t have any personal experience with him. But he brags all the time. Or, really, he thinks he brags. In reality, He talks about how bad he is at sex and we all just kinda nod and laugh at him behind his back.”

“Wait, He hasn’t talked to you guys about what happens in our bedroom, has he?!” You asked, a new wave of betrayal overtaking you. Ryomen just gave you a look and you knew the answer.

“Right, forget I asked.” You muttered. 

“Don’t worry Doll,” He assured you, placing a hand on your thigh. You thought your heart might explode at his warm touch. “After tonight, all of his bullshit will just seem like a fucked up nightmare.” You hoped he was right. 

💒💒💒

You were beginning to doubt your decision to bring him to your apartment instead of going to his. It’s not that you were ashamed of where you lived, on the contrary, you knew you had a beautiful residence. The shame came from the fact that this was technically still your shared dwelling with Satoru, and evidence of him still lingered in every corner of this apartment. His things were still here, which shouldn’t have been surprising really, but you were less ready to face it than you thought. 

The good news was Ryomen gave you exactly no time to start to miss your ex. His mouth was on yours almost the moment the two of you were in the door, pulling you close and taking your breath away in a needy kiss. You moaned softly into him, tangling your fingers into his soft pink hair, getting drunk on the scent of pine needles and Marlboro cigarettes. 

He kissed his way from your lips, to your jaw, all the way down to the base of your neck, leaving a trail of purple bruises in his wake. “Bedroom is-”

“I know.” He cut you off. You realized two things at that moment. 1.Sukuna had been to your house before, no doubt with Gojo. and 2. That he had been leading you to the bedroom the whole time. He fumbled for all of two seconds with the door before getting it open, ushering you in and all but pushing you onto the bed. It was in that moment that it hit you just how much bigger than you Sukuna was. 6’4 and made out of pure muscle, he could have truly hurt you if he wanted. 

You would think this would kill the mood a bit but quite the opposite actually. You pressed your thighs together to try and distract yourself from the almost uncomfortable amount of arousal pooling between them. Ryomen notably did not like this, moving to cage you onto the bed. “Come on Y/n, Don’t get shy on me now,” He purred as his hand moved down your body, “We just started having fun.”

You bit your lip as you began to melt under his electric touch. You watched as his hand disappeared under your dress. You bit your lip as you felt his fingers brush against the translucent spot on your panties. Your breath hitched and his smirk only grew.

“Is all of this for me, Doll?” He asked, teasing you through the fabric. You felt your hips unintentionally buck, trying desperately to make more friction. You nodded, maybe a little bit too aggressively for your taste, but it just seemed to encourage him. He chuckled, low and deep in his chest. “Thought so.” He muttered, moving your panties to the side and running one of his thick fingers up your folds, gathering the natural slick forming.

His eyes seemed to glow in the dim moonlight filling the room, taking in even your smallest reaction as he teased you. You whimpered softly at his touch. His gaze held yours firm as his fingers finally made contact with your clit. It was slow at first, sending soft pulses of pleasure through you. He built up a steady pace, applying more pressure and speed as your reactions demanded it. You whined needily, digging your freshly manicured claws into his shoulder blades.

“Ryomen..” You moaned. His name sounded so much prettier falling from your lips than he ever imagined. And he had imagined it.

“Say it again.” He encouraged, applying more pressure to your clit to make you squirm. His free hand found your hips, firmly pressing you into the mattress to keep you still.

“Ryomen, please..” You whimpered, “I need more, please..”

“What’s your rush?” He asked, a finger slipping down to tease at your weeping cunt. “We’ve got all night princess, and I’ve waited for this for too long to rush it.” He chuckled darkly, though he did grant your wish, slipping one of his fingers into you. He curled the long thick digit up, gracing your ever elusive (to Satoru) g-spot. You saw white hot, waves of fiery pleasure coursing through your core. You dug your claws even deeper into his back. He hoped the crescent moons of your nails would still be there in the morning. 

“Fuck, fuck! Ryo..” You moaned, losing yourself in the endorphins. He was persistent in the massaging of the soft part inside of you, and tension was quickly mounting. 

“Ryo?” He all but laughed, “That's new. I think I like it from you though.” He muttered, adding another finger into the mix. Your body tensed, both not ready for and more than excited to accept the intrusion. Your cunt clenched around his fingers as the tensions built inside of you. The string that had been tangling itself in your stomach was ready to snap, as were you. 

Your eyes screwed shut as you braced for your release, only to feel his hand move from your hip to your jaw, his nails digging into your skin just enough to get your attention. “Don’t close your eyes.” Ryomen growled, and you obeyed. “You fucking look at me. I want you to know who made you feel this good.” you whined at his words, but maintained eye contact with him. His blood red gaze was intense, molting hot even. If the inferno in your veins didn’t burn you alive, the incinerator behind his eyes surely would.

“Ryo, I’m so close.” You whined out. You were hit with wave after wave of bliss. Your body reacted to every stroke of his fingers inside of you, and the whirlwind was picking up. 

“Oh yea?” He muttered, with an intense focus that could almost be mistaken for disinterest. “Then cum for me Princess.” It didn’t take long after that. Three more passes from his expert fingers at most before you were overcome with euphoria. Fireworks pulsed through your core, making you far too hot and very sensitive all at once. All the while, Sukuna was finger fucking you through your high, watching as your face contorted with bliss. 

As you came down, you watched him slowly slip his fingers out of your sobbing cunt and into his mouth. He made the most obscene show of sucking his fingers clean, removing them after with a loud pop. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” He praised, taking your hand and helping you stand up, “Come on, you’re too pretty to be in this ugly dress.”

“Hey!” You protested, “The dress isn’t that bad!” 

“Yes it is.” He said, annoyance quickly mounting as he saw it was a button up back. “It hides you more than it compliments you.”

“Well that doesn’t-Ryomen!” You snapped at him as he ripped the back open, deciding that the buttons weren’t worth the time. “This dress is Fucking Expensive!” 

“Invoice me for it then,” he scoffed, turning you around to face him. He dropped the dress from your shoulders. “There you are,” He hummed, smiling as he pulled you into a fierce kiss. The anger that you held for him ruining the dress quickly dissipated as you melted into his warmth. Fuck it, he was right. It was an ugly fucking dress. 

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling you impossibly close. Your hands started to wander. You thought back to his tattoos, wondering about just where exactly they stopped. You found your way to the noticeable tent in his dress pants, grinding your palm against it and earning a deep groan from him. The sound went straight to your core, and suddenly it was the only thing you wanted to hear.

You fumbled with his belt, trying to get it undone while also focusing on your kiss. You didn’t get very far though before Ryomen brushed your hands away. He mumbled a soft ‘Fucks sake,’ before just undoing it himself, taking care of his button and zipper while he was at it. You were on your knees before he was finished, earning a smile and nod of approval.

“Well look at you Doll, pretty and smart.” He praised. You swallowed the air in your throat before reaching up to take him out. He sighed in relief once his cock wasn’t constrained anymore, and you bit your lip hard. If you were being honest, You had imagined Sukuna before. Late at night when your fiance was surly out with another woman, you found solace in daydreaming about what his rival's dick would be like. You had not imagined this. 

He was long and thick, almost intimidatingly so. Even at your most generous, you hadn’t imagined this. The tattoos also admittedly caught you off guard, the two black bands around his base standing out against his pale skin. But it worked for you. 

“Like what you see?” Ryomen smirked, never one to be shy. You felt embarrassment set a fire in your chest, despite the face you just looked him in the eyes while he finger fucked you into oblivion. Still, you nodded.

“Pretty cock.” Why was that what you thought to say!?

“Thanks, grew it myself.” He chuckled, his fingers falling to the back of your head, “I think it would look even prettier in your mouth though.” You didn’t need to be told twice. You licked your lips, wrapping your fingers around his base. You gave him a few experiential strokes, before taking the head into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him, eliciting a growl.

“Don’t fucking tease me Y/n.” He warned darkly. You decided to ignore his very clear warning, licking along one of his more prominent veins. You kissed the tip again, opening your mouth to try and suck on just the head again. That didn’t slide this time though, as Sukuna sunk his nails into your scalp and pushed you the rest of the way down his length. You gagged around him, drawing a satisfied moan from him as he fucked your throat.

You scrambled for a few seconds before finding your rhythm. Breathe through your nose, relax your throat, and in no time you were taking him like a champ. You looked up and felt your cunt clench at the sight before you. Ryomens head was thrown back, strands of hair sweat stuck to his forehead, and his eyes twisted shut in bliss. The dim lunar light casted an angelic halo on the sinful scene, and you wondered why you had’t fucked him sooner. 

“God, you feel so good.” He breathed out, “Satorus’ a goddamn moron for giving this up.” You weren’t sure if that was directed at you or not, but he was right, and you hummed your approval of the statement. You watched his jaw tighten as the vibrations ripped through him, followed by him pulling you off of his dick. He pulled you up and pushed you onto the bed, quickly crawling on top of you. He didn’t go to even part of that reception just to cum down your throat. He wanted everything you had to offer. You spread your legs for him as his fingers made their way back to your still dripping pussy. He started to work you open again, catching you in yet another passionate kiss. Satoru never kissed you like this.

“You’re fucking soaked still.” Ryomen noted, easily working you open for him. “Think you’re ready for me Doll?” You hummed your response, mentally preparing for this. He tsked at you. “With your words.” He said, the edge in his voice cutting through your brain fog.

“Yes.” You nodded, licking your dry lips. 

“Yes what?” His annoyance was getting more evident.

“Yes, I’m ready for you.” You whimpered. He finally nodded his approval.

“Good girl.” He said, before slowly pushing in. No matter how wet you were, you couldn’t have prepared yourself for this. You felt yourself being ripped apart at the seams, your cunt molding itself to him to accommodate. You took in a sharp breath as he let out a jagged one, hips faltering for just a second as he paused to let you adjust. 

“Jesus fucking christ you’re tight.” He groaned, getting lost in the way your velvety walls clenched around him and tried to pull him in further. You whined out in response.

“Ryo, I don’t think I can fit it all..” You admitted almost shamefully. 

“You can.” He assured you, pushing even further in, “You’re doing so good Princess.” You bit back a squeal, suddenly wanting nothing more than to make him proud. You let out an embarrassing moan as he finally pushed all the way in, but that's ok because he did too. For all the nights that he spent fucking his hand to the thought of you, nothing could have prepared him for how good you actually felt. 

He stilled for a minute, giving you time to fully adjust to his size. You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Ok, I’m ready..” You muttered. He chuckled darkly.

“Ready for what Doll?” He asked. You groaned, tired of his bullshit.

“Come on Ryo, please. You know what I want!” you whined.

“I do.” He confirmed, “And I want you to beg for it.” 

“Ryomen please!” you begged him, “Please, I need you to move. I need you to fuck me until I can’t think anymore, I want to feel you ruin me. Make me your whore, please, I want to be destroyed.” GOD Ryomen was lucky he didn’t cum right then and there. That was so much hotter than he thought it would be, and you could feel his dick twitch inside you. 

“If you insist.” He said, setting a brutal pace right off the bat and making you scream. “I’m going to mold this cunt to me, and me alone.” He growled into your ear, “When I’m done with you, I’m going to be the only man you’ll ever want again. No one will make you feel this good again.” He was probably right. The curve of his dick put it at the perfect angle to continuously massage your g-spot, overriding the slight discomfort of him fucking your cervix. He stretched you out so beautifully, you couldn’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this full ever again.

“Tell me, Does he fuck you like this?” he asked, tangling his fingers into your hair to force you to look at him again. “Like the dirty whore you are?” you tried to shake your head no, but his grip was too tight.

“No, not nearly as good.” You whimpered, getting lost in the inferno of desire and pleasure that was overtaking you. Every thrust sent another shock wave of euphoria through you, the waves of bliss threatening to over take you with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck, do you know how long I’ve wanted to wreck this pussy?” You growled into your ear, “Ever since that motherfucker first brought you round us. Showing you off in that tight little skirt, flaunting you around like a brand new toy. I’ve thought of you every night since.” He said, folding you in half and wrapping your legs around his shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper into you, sending a new intense wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins and making you see stars.

“Four years is a long time to wait for something,” He mumbled, “But fuck me you’re so worth it. So much fucking better than my hand, or those bitches I’d pretend were you. Never been more thankful for that idiots' mistakes.” He laughed. You weren’t listening. You were driving at 140 miles per hour straight off a cliff and into a grave of dopamine and bliss. Your cunt clenched and wept around him, your orgasm coming faster than you wanted it to. 

“Ryomen, I’m so fucking close.” You whined, nearing the edge of the cliff.

“I know,” He huffed. He could feel it in the way you trembled around him, “Want you to come all over my cock. Come on, make a mess, pretty girl.” He purred, fingers finding your clit and massaging expert circles into it. That was it, the extra pleasure sending you over the edge. You felt like your soul left your body as stars exploded over your eyes. Your blood filled with euphoria, dopamine, and oxytocin. You felt your body stiffen and convulse around him as you were hit with wave after wave of pleasure. 

The way your cunt grabbed him like a vice, pulling him impossibly deeper, coupled with the intoxicating look on your face as you came brought him to his climax. He couldn't have pulled out if he wanted to (Is what he told himself) as he came deep inside you, overflowing your cunt and dripping onto the sheets. Everything stilled for the seconds that followed, both of you desperately trying to catch your breath.

He pulled out finally. He managed to roll to the side before he crumbled, collapsing next to you instead of on top of you. “Holy fuck,” He breathed out, basking in the afterglow with you.

“Holy fuck indeed.” You nodded, not knowing what else to really say. Gojos' sheets were definitely ruined. 

“And you mean to tell me he left you at the fucking altar?” Ryomen laughed in disbelief. “Talk about a fumble.”

“Well, to be fair, it’s never that good with him.” You admitted. You looked over to see Ryomens victorious grin.

“I believe that.” He muttered. Habit overtook you as you moved into the arms of your lover, resting your head on his chest to listen to his racing heart slowly return to normal. He didn’t move away, wrapping his arm around you instead. He kissed the top of your head. It was by far the most gentle act of the night. 

💒💒💒

Ryomen was gone when you woke up. You weren’t surprised, but you did find yourself disappointed, much to your further dismay. You weren’t expecting breakfast in bed or anything, but you were hoping he’d at least stick around long enough for a goodbye. Oh well, you knew what you were getting into when you decided to fuck him. And honestly, the last thing you needed right now was another playboy to fuck around with your heart.

You checked your phone and actually laughed. 12 missed calls and far too many texts, all from Gojo. It must have gotten back to him that you went home with Ryomen last night, and he was running himself ragged trying to “fix” his mistake. As if he could fix it. You deleted the voicemails along with the messages without reading them. You were about to put down your phone when a specific notification caught your eye. New Message, Sukuna. Never one to learn, you opened it immediately. 

Good morning beautiful. Sorry I left so early, work called. I’ll see you soon though ;) 

The sound that left you was truly embarrassing, but you didn’t care. You were ready to make a New Mistake.

[cluescorner]

I love how The Boy Wonder is characterizing Talia. Like, I have some disagreements (mainly in that I still don't like the idea that her relationship with Bruce was somewhat encouraged by Ra's because like...idk it just feels weird to me. I also don't like that Talia seems pretty chill with murder, since I still think she's most interesting as somebody who kills only when there is no other option) but overall I think it's a pretty good way of showing her as a complicated woman.

She knows her father is cruel and will do things that go too far, but she genuinely believes in his mission and will do whatever she thinks will serve it (another benefit of actually touching on the ecologist angle of the LoA). It's also notable that she only fully betrays Ra's when she knows that HE has compromised his own cause at the altar of ego. Her loyalty to the cause doesn't mean she'll let Ra's do whatever he wants, ESPECIALLY as it pertains to her son.

Her relationship with Damian is also complicated in a way that feels a lot more in-character and reasonable than usual. No matter what her intentions were with the action, she abandoned Damian to Bruce and that HURT HIM. It's given him issues where he constantly strives to not just be good but to be BETTER than the others so that he won't be left again. It can be the right decision for both Damian and herself AND ALSO cause them a lot of pain. She loves him dearly, he is her heart. But just like she puts herself through suffering for a goal she believes is righteous and just, she puts her son (her heart) through that same pain because she believes it is the right thing to do. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

It gets a bit too self-deprecating at the end for me (I honestly don't think Talia would consider herself unworthy to be proud of Damian), but it shows her with a level of self-awareness and an understanding of her errors. Issue 4 also shows a lot of my favorite traits of Talia's in full force: her perseverance and her confidence in her own moral judgements (if not in her interpersonal relationships).

[duckitity]

Día de los muertos!

(Quackity x Reader)

You're dating Quackity and he takes you to your first Dia de los Muertos!

You and Quackity have been dating for a while now.

You were also a streamer, so most of your friends knew already, even though the relationship wasn't completely public.

One day while you were both streaming together, you jokingly told him about how you were waiting for him to invite you to Mexico.

The told you he would love to take you for El Dia de los Muertos, and that he would even buy you the plane ticket for you to go.

Both of your chats took it as a joke, obviously.

I mean, it was kind of a joke at the beggining, but not really.

Since he actually did it.

You didn't really mind, you were genuinely excited for it.

When you finally arrive to Mexico, he picked you up at the airport.

He greeted you with a hug and a kiss, and you could tell how excited he was.

He explained you everything he knew about the holiday.

He told you about the meaning, some traditions, some foods.

Almost as if he had waited years to talk about those things with somebody.

He also wanted to make sure you wouldn't feel lost, or left out. Since his whole family was going to be there, and he knew it could be a little overwhelming.

You thought it was really sweet of him.

His whole family was really nice to you.

You cooked typical mexican food with him and his mother

You helped him decorate the altars.

You have never seen so many colors in your life.

And then the day finally arrived.

His sister did your Catrina makeup,and help you dressed up.

It was beautiful.

When Quackity saw you, he couldn't stop smiling.

He thought you looked absolutely gorgeous.

And you couldn't stop smiling at how happy he looked.

"Thanks for letting me share this with you."

You had the best first Dia de los Muertos with him and his family.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Hi! Just wanna clarify something, im not mexican, so if there is anything wrong with anything i wrote about el Dia de los Muertos, i would apreciate it if you let me know <3

Also, english is not my first language, so, the same thing goes for anything about grammar or something similar. :)

And thanks for reading, hope you liked it. <3

Feel free to request for any ideas you would like me to write about, or ask me any question.

[broomsick]

Will the gods be upset with me if I do nothing for an entire year or more? Ive not tried to communicate, or left offerings or anything as im really not able to all the time.. and my mental health has not been all too kind. My nan also has dementia now so just been stressed and drained. Now and again each morning I will look toward my altar and say good morning to them. They are in my thoughts.

Why hello there, friend.

I’m so, so sorry to hear that you’re going through such a difficult time. There’s always mystery surrounding the thoughts of the Gods, the way they feel about our human lives and emotions. While it’s true that we can only grasp at what they think, there is also a great aspect of spiritual practice which we can all rely on to some extent: that is our faith, our instinct— in general, what our gut tells us.

And I personally believe that the Gods care for us, no matter how often we can afford to make offerings, or how often we pray. I believe they care about us in spite of our flaws. I have actually shared more on my thoughts on the topic in this previous post, if you’re interested in hearing the reasons behind this belief. I’ve always thought faith was at the very core of polytheism, after all, none of us practice in exactly the same way, but all of us share one thing in common: belief in the Gods. And what you have been doing, just keeping them in your thoughts, even making the effort of saying hello every morning, is plenty enough already. I feel like the Gods sometimes act towards us like they act towards a friend: a friend wouldn’t blame you, knowing all that you’re going through, right?

Now, I must also specify two things about this particular topic. The first is that I’ve never given credit to the idea that the Gods will get angry at every little “mistake”. Experience taught me that when somebody is trying to convince you that this or that deity is somehow “mad” at you, they’re very probably using a guilt tactic to manipulate you to some extent. And even if they’re not, then they’re still trying to make you adhere to their beliefs, thus placing them in a position of spiritual authority.

As I’ve mentioned, I’m no better than anybody when it comes to guessing at the Gods’ feelings. However, I’ve never heard of, or experienced a deity being somehow angry at one of their worshippers. Sure, this sort of occurrence appears in myth! But I’m always the first to point out that mythology and reality are fully distinct, and it’s important to draw that line when it comes to neo-pagan practice.

I hope you find in your heart that your deities do care for you very much. Sometimes it’s this faith that gets us through such difficult times of disconnect from spirituality. Every one us experiences these moments when we’re so busy we can barely spare a thought for our practice. But it’s nothing at all to feel guilty for. The amount of time we can dedicate to all aspects of our lives is variable. The Gods know this, and I believe they also know of our struggles as humans.

I hope you know that you’re so very resilient and strong, and that I admire you greatly for dealing with all of this, all the while keeping a thought for your spirituality. I hope you’re given all the care and support you deserve, and I believe your deities are right at your side, providing you with guidance and encouragement.

[little-diable]

Little Lamb - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

There's just something about priest!Riddle, I love writing for him. This is a very tame Tom imagine, not nearly as dark as my others. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader helps Priest Riddle with his summer camp, guiding young children through prayers, through talks about God, and religion. She had been tied to him for years, he held her heart and soul hostage, taking her whenever he desires her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, sex in a church, oral (m), wrong use of rosary prayers, power play, dom!Tom, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (about 3k words)

Incense, a smell so biting, (y/n) had a hard time breathing, hand darting out to grab onto the nearest wooden bench. The smell wandered up her nostrils, clinging to her like the smell of petrichor, so distinct she’d always recognise it. Water filled her eyes, begging her to turn around, to leave this church and the camp she had been forced to join. 

Slowly she took another step, and another, till she finally came to halt in front of the altar. (Y/n) couldn’t remember the last time she had visited this church, nothing more than a hazy memory, a fever dream she had woken from all too suddenly, breaking through the blanket of sweat clinging to her like a veil. 

Her heart was pounding, racing in her chest trying to fight against what she had been forced into. God, how she wanted to take off, running away before her parents could catch up with her plans, and yet she couldn’t, very well knowing that there was no way out. 

“There you are, I was wondering where you were hiding.” His voice echoed through the church as if the Lord himself was speaking to her, booming like thunder rippling through the night, heavy like bricks weighing her drowning frame down. The sound of his shoes meeting the stone ground rang in her ears, one by one, reminiscent of the lives he was praying for. 

(Y/n) didn’t dare look at him, eyes directed forwards, staring at the cross that must weigh a few hundred pounds, heavier than any weight she’d be able to lift. She felt him come to a halt next to her, hands clasped together in front of him, shoulders pulled back to appear even taller.

“Look at me.” It was a soft command, and yet he didn’t offer her any room to pull back. But (y/n) couldn’t move, glassy eyes not daring to blink not even once, scared that she’d mess up on her first day, not ready to face her parents' wrath. “(Y/n).”

Priest Riddle singsang her name, cold fingers finding her chin. Slowly he turned her face towards him, moving as slow as somebody exploring a new piece of art, unsure what to expect, taking their time to admire every inch of the masterpiece. Their eyes met, bound together by the strength he emanated, forcing (y/n) closer and closer. 

“There’s nothing to fear, you’re safe here, with me.” Before she could reply, choking on the quiet gasp leaving her, the door to the church was pushed open, exposing a crowd of excited children. (Y/n)’s insides churned at the sound of laughter, of excitement echoing through the morning, a sound she had once been all too familiar with. 

Years ago she had been one of them, an excited child allowed to spend a weekend at church, learning more about God, about his son, and the fallen angels. She had grown within time, and even as a teenager she had joined the yearly get together, even though her weekends had taken a few unforeseen turns, making her end up with her back pressed against the priest’s mattress, choking on Tom’s name. 

He was a few years older than her, had left the town to study theology, till he finally returned years later. The second he had rejoined the church, taking over from the priest he and (y/n) had been all too familiar with, he had pulled her closer, toying with her body and soul. He was a mysterious man, a man with a soul so dark even Lucifer wouldn’t dare cross paths with him, but he was good at playing this charade, faking the smiles he shot those that were too oblivious for their own good, a facade only (y/n) could see through. 

“C’mon, it’s time for our morning prayer.” 

…… 

“You’ve been here for only a few hours and you already have something to confess?” He clicked his tongue, towering over her sitting frame with a sinister smirk tugging on his lips. The cold floor pressed against her feet, biting through the fabric of her shoes all too easily like poison burning its way through her flesh. She was trembling, not daring to speak up as she got lost in his darkening eyes, wondering if this is how sinners standing in front of Lucifer must feel, forced to spend eternity trapped in the blackest kind of darkness. “Little lamb, what shall I do with you?”

Both knew the answer to that, both knew that he’d do as he pleases, making her body tremble like Noah’s arch had, trapped in a thunderstorm that could rip her body apart. She heavily swallowed as she watched the priest take a step back, eyes ranking over her frame. 

“Kneel, (y/n).” She dropped to her knees without speaking a single word, staring up at the man that held as much power over her as God once had. Oh, how disappointed her parents were, feeling her slip from their and from God’s grasp, forcing her to rejoin this camp as the priest’s helping hand. (Y/n) couldn’t help but wonder how they’d react to seeing this very scene playing out, watching the man undo his black trousers, freeing his hardening cock with skilled movements. “You know what to do, or have you already forgotten your place in this game?”

“Of course not.” (Y/n) felt anger simmering inside of her, how dare he play with her like that, how dare he think that she’d ever forget how to please him. Her desire for him urged her on, wanting to prove to the smirking man that only she could make him feel good, that only she knew how to please him. 

With trembling hands she grasped his cock, spitting into her palm to soften the touch, coaxing a satisfied groan out of him. She swallowed him down all too easily, eyes not daring to break contact, not even as he jerked his hips, making her choke on him. Her tears fell like the ones Mary had cried for her son, for Christ Crucified, one with the sadness his death forced through those that had dared to believe in him and his mission. 

“See, only a sinning woman like you could touch me like this. I should punish you, should fuck you till you pass out, over and over again, till Lucifer loosens his grip on your soul. But, where would be the fun in that, right?” His ringed hand tugged on her hair, forcing her even closer with his tight grip, making another wave of tears well up in her glistening eyes. 

(Y/n) could only hum around his cock, letting the sound vibrate on his skin, making goosebumps rise on his forearms. It was a beautiful sight, the pleasure drunken expression she’d think of whenever her nights felt lonely, needing to take care of the heat flaring up inside of her. 

She’d forever remember the feel of his soft skin pressed against her quick moving tongue, every inch had burned itself into her mind, allowing her to find him even in the darkest nights. He was hers, as much as she was his, a silent promise that kept the two blemished souls tied together, forever, even for the time following the last judgement. 

He kept jerking his hips, fucking her mouth with more pressure, making the corners of her mouth burn. She didn’t dare protest, didn’t even whine as she walked along the line of pleasure and pain, and yet her cunt kept fluttering around nothing, begging to be filled by him. Curses rolled off the priest’s tongue, the cross chain around his neck rested peacefully on his chest, rising and falling with every deep exhale. 

Once again their eyes met as he came down her throat, forcing her to swallow every drop as if he was pouring consecrated wine into her mouth. Her moans left the man smirking, stepping away from her to tug his cock back into his trousers. For a few more seconds he studied her before his eyes flickered to his watch, “Be a good girl for me today, and you’ll be rewarded.” 

……

The fabric of her dress kept stroking her knees with every hurried step (y/n) took, trying to find the still missing kids, calling them to Priest Riddle’s evening prayer. They had just finished their dinner, able to relax after a day filled with summer activities, with a swim (y/n) had gladly joined – simply to tease the man with wandering eyes, taking in her wet appearance, drenched from the cold water. 

“Guys, come on, we don’t want to miss our prayer, do we?” (Y/n) could still remember all these weekends she had spent here, how she had made new friends, how she had shared her first kiss with the man that now fucked her ruthlessly whenever he was dreaming of her, the sweetest kind of relief. 

Priest Riddle towered over the altar, eyes taking in the crowd of excited children, before his eyes finally found hers. He watched her close the door, giving him a small nod to give him the signal, starting the prayer with a satisfied hum. The words he spoke rolled off his tongue all too effortlessly, filling the church with the kind of magic the children found themselves amazed by. 

But (y/n) couldn’t pay any attention to his words, to his prayers, mind set on the things he’d hopefully do to her. She had decided against wearing any panties, begging whoever dared to pick up on her sinful thoughts that Tom would fuck her till she forgets her own name. 

His voice was softer than silk, wrapping itself around her, cradling her closer like a drug blurring out her surroundings. She couldn’t stop watching him, couldn’t stop admiring him as if she was staring at something her human eyes haven’t been fortunate enough to take in before. It was easy, almost too easy, to love him, a sick, toxic relationship she couldn’t flee from, no matter how hard she’d try, he’d always lure her back into his trap. 

“You see, I wonder what goes on inside your pretty little head while you stare at me like that, little lamb.” His voice rang in her ears, breath hitching in her chest as she felt his hands on her waist, toying with the fabric. She couldn’t reply, forced away by the call of her name, eyes flickering back to him before she crouched down to the child begging for her attention. The seconds faded by, and yet (y/n)’s mind was still stuck on his words, on the roughness of his voice, wondering how much longer he’d drag out their back and forth. 

(Y/n) found her way back to the church the second the kids were in bed, finding rest in their rooms, sharing stories of this very day, full of excitement for the days to come. She had stumbled out of the building as fast as she could, called back to him like a lost lamb searching for its flock. He guided her closer, back pressed against the altar he was leaning against with his arms crossed, with his fingers holding onto his wooden rosary and his bible. 

No words were spoken as she came to a halt in front of the man, allowing her eyes to take in his features, wondering how much time God had invested into the man’s creation, sparing extra time on the details she easily picked up on. He reached one hand out for her to take, feeling the wooden pearls pressing into her palm before he pushed the rosary over her head, letting it dangle from her neck. 

Their lips met for a kiss, a kiss so heated (y/n) had to grasp his collar, scared that she’d tumble from his grasp. Their moans filled the church like soft music made to lure those that needed some extra guidance closer, but tonight nobody would dare to interrupt them, unable to open the locked doors. She was turned around, small of her back pressed against the altar as his fingers began moving, disappearing underneath her dress, momentarily freezing as he felt her naked cunt. 

No warning was spoken as he plunged two fingers into her tightness, expectedly curling them against her swollen spot. (Y/n) couldn’t swallow her moans, giving room to the sounds that rumbled through her as her head rolled back, allowing Tom to kiss her throat, teeth grazing her skin. He fucked her with his fingers for a few moments, thumb circling her pulsing clit to push the sweetest feeling of anticipation through her veins. 

“I should punish you for walking around like this, I should punish you for whoring yourself out to me. But you’ve got me bound to you, addicted to the feeling of your cunt clenching my cock.” His words forced another moan to leave her, eyes rolling back as he added more pressure to his touch. Tom pulled away all too quickly, flipping her around to press her front against the top of the altar. She could barely breathe through the excitement filling her, listening to the sounds of Tom undoing his trousers, freeing the cock she had choked on hours ago. 

“Start praying, may He grant you his forgiveness.” His rough voice shot shudders down her spine, momentarily distracting her from the feeling of his cock brushing through her slit, lubing himself up with her arousal. 

“I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.” Her voice trembled, eyes squeezed shut as he pushed into her, taking his time to sink deeper into her tightness. A rough “Keep on” left the priest, forcing a shaky inhale of thin air into (y/n)’s lungs as she kept speaking the Apostles’ Creed, speaking the words she knew by heart. 

(Y/n)’s trembling fingers toyed with the wooden pearls, mind unable to focus on anything but the feeling of Priest Riddle fucking her from behind, sure to leave marks with the way he pushed her hips against the edge of the altar. She struggled to keep on breathing, nails digging into the thin flesh of her sweaty palms, marks so clear as if she had been to one nailed to the cross, letting the rusty metal pierce her flesh. A pain so distinct she’d forever carry it around with her, sticking to her body the way the priest was clinging to her, not daring to let her go. 

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” The prayer left her in pieces, interrupted by her moans and sighs, supported by his own sounds. It was so sinful, and yet it felt so right, bodies made for one another, made to fit their touch like wax copying their frames.  

One pearl after another was touched by her, followed by the fitting prayers, urged on to keep on speaking as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Soon they’d let go, leaving their stains on one another, hoping that the walls surrounding them would never learn to share their secrets. 

“Tell me, little lamb, how close are you?” Both knew the answer to his question, very well aware of the way she clenched around his cock, how her aching clit pulsed against his thumb. (Y/n) stumbled over her words, eyes squeezed shut in a desperate try to work through the fog of pleasure filling her mind. 

“So close, ‘m so close.” She kept repeating the words, begging that he’d give in, allowing her to cum with his name burning on the tip of her tongue. Priest Riddle gave it a few more thrusts, before he let go of a simple “Cum”, easily pushing (y/n) over the edge. The rosary fell to the ground as she grasped onto the edge of the altar, eyes squeezed shut, teeth buried in her lip, allowing her orgasm to rock through her. 

Was God watching them? Staring down on her with an unfamiliar kind of apathy? Did he remind the sins she has committed numerous times in His holy walls? 

She felt him fill her up, painting her walls white with his relief. Both were heavily panting, needing to give one another a few moments before they parted, taking a few steps away from the altar. No words were spoken as he tucked himself back into his trousers, staring at her with a smirk on his lips and a satisfied gaze filling his dark pupils. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning to take your confessions. Be aware, I won’t hold back on the punishment.” 

And with his release dripping down her thighs, (y/n) was forced to leave the holy halls, stumbling back to her room with her heart racing on.

[strangeandoff-putting]

In a special place in my home I keep only memories, keepsakes from the cordillera: photos of many of those who died, objects from the plane, things I collected from everyone who died and who we did not expect to stay alive. So I save them in this altar, which is my most sacred and beloved piece of furniture. I carried back a lot of objects in a bag, but there were some things that we didn’t know which dead boy they belonged to, nor did any survivor recognise it as his own. [...] I have dozens of things from ’72. But the thing I value most, because I feel that it symbolises everything we lived through, is a silver cross that is missing its left arm. It is a cross that somebody had hanging over his heart, although I found it lying in the snow. It is about 4cm long, and the whole arm that’s left measures less than 2cm. It suffered some sort of violent impact in the centre – whoever had it received a severe blow to the middle of his chest. But what moves me most about it is that despite being dented, despite the fact that it’s missing an arm, with the metal all jagged and torn, all the same it keeps being, unmistakably, a cross. That was what happened to us. We were dented and bruised, beaten down and terribly abused, but we kept on being whole men.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Girl if this is a 'Percy Jackson playlist',why's it full of Taylor Swift,Fob,P!atd and Avril and not Mcr,Teezo Touchdown,The Cure,Dead Kennedys,Direct Hit!,Meet Me @ The Altar,Megan Thee Stallion,Against Me!,video games and cartoons soundtracks,Lo-Fi Beats to symbolize Hazel and most importantly his confirmed The Ramones taste since he gifted Nico a shirt of them?Y'all be like Percy is a black punk king😌🔱 and then don't even let him have black/punk interests even he's canonically punk and from fuckin' New York(1/2 the places where punk started,the other England,both by black people)and also totally leaving out his no masking game audhd swag.Anyway somebody turn on Fairy Type Girl by Yunglex and Blue Dream by Jhené Aiko and Nothing left to lose by Wipers and Ashe's cover of I'm Just Your Problem for this son of a queen🦭

[kairiscorner]

Watching miguel marry somebody else? Then gabri courts us /j

(sighs)

walking down the aisle with someone who isn't me — miguel o'hara x reader

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

summary: you felt your whole world crumble when you were there with him, by the altar—just not you as the one he'll be marrying. you feel like crying, screaming, running away—you just can't stand the sight of miguel being with anybody but you. but could you blame him? you waited too late to tell him the truth, what you really felt. word count: 868

you were never one to cry at weddings, you honestly couldn't care about someone starting their life again with the addition of another person in it. if anything, weddings always brought smiles to your face. you always dreamed as a young child what your wedding would be like, how beautiful your spouse would be, how tall your cake would be, how much tears your parents and friends would shed, and just... how happy you were going to be for the rest of your life. and just when you thought you found that person... everything comes crashing down on you when he tells you himself, with a wide grin and his right hand over his left, obscuring his surprise, that he's found someone special to him.

why, oh why, universe, do you find your sorrow entertaining?

and the worst part of it all was... you were the person of honor at his wedding. you stood there, close to him, but not close enough to be that special person who he gazed at with such affection, held overflowing love and devotion for in his heart, the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with. you were none of those things to him, and for the first time, you saw yourself outside of your body, you wanted to grab yourself by the shoulders and shake you awake. you wanted to slap that fraudulent smile off your face, it hurt to force yourself to stretch a smile this wide when all you wanted to do was sob yourself into next month.

but you couldn't do that, no. you'd be selfish for not being there when he specifically asked you to. besides, it was your fault for not admitting to him sooner. you had loved him for more than a decade, you had adored him for what was about to be 15 years in the making. he held your heart in the palm of his hands without even knowing it; with his silly smiles when he would be caught off guard snickering at something, when he'd look all aloof and stoic when completely in focus, and when that shine and widening of his eyebrows when his interest has been piqued—when he's completely enamored with something—or someone, it seemed—you felt your heart beat a little faster, sometimes skipping to beat once or twice altogether.

you realized it at the end of your junior year, you were in love with miguel o'hara, the only guy who ever looked at you like you were worth something, despite his unbearable attitude and snarkiness—he cared about you a lot more than he's ever cared anyone else. but caring for and loving are not one in the same. you were the one he cared for, but you never were the one he loved.

you supported him and were there for him even after you realized your feelings for him. you were there when his previous partners left him, when he was struggling with his powers at first—you were actually the first person he admitted about them to, he trusted you that much. you were there for him when he needed immediate medical attention, and you were there to listen to him go on and on about his inner turmoils.

you were there. you were always there. you hoped that maybe he'd open his eyes one day to the truth of it all, that no one would ever love him the way you loved him. you felt like you were owed to be with him at the end of all this, that one day, he'd ask you if you loved him, and you'd say yes, and he'd take you up in his arms and thank the stars above that you loved him back. but that kind of stuff only happens in fairy tales, and you were living in a bleak, gray reality where nice people can only go so far.

and here you were, the only one who ever really loved him, never once being seen that way by the man you loved. he was getting married to someone else, someone whose name you didn't care to remember, whose face you didn't wish to keep stowed away in the depths of your mind. you knew he was a catch, you knew a lot of people have the same dreams as you do, to have a piece of him—to bed him, to wake up with him, to hold his hand and kiss him and forget your worries as he holds you close and reassures you he's here for you—but that's all it'll ever be: dreams.

as they exchanged vows and their 'i do's', miguel sneaks a look at you and smiles widely, and it wasn't out of sympathy or friendship—it was a smile that thanked you, a smile that reassured you that even if he's married... he appreciates you. and it was only here, at this very altar, that you found yourself crying for the first time at a wedding; a wedding you would've felt joyous at, proud of for your friend that he found his somebody—if you could only stop yourself from wishing that somebody was you.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0

[ttulipwritezz]

Watch You Walk Away.~ R. Lupin

Synopsis: Remus had a hard time accepting that he deserved love, and rejected it when you gave it to him. So he watched as you gave that love to his best friend.

Warnings: ex remus, reader is dating sirius, marriage, mention of love, self depreciation, self loathing, angst, far too much italic font sorry.

Remus and sirius shared a bond like no other. At this point it wasn't even questionable. They were best friends, Brothers from different mothers, if you will.

So it came as a surprise when Remus pulled you back by your hand to hold you back as you were about to make your way towards your boyfriend.

Of course no one would be super pleased to have their ex holding them back from their boyfriend.

So he spoke, as to not startle you further.

"Why him?"

The question was baffling at the least.

"What do you mean, Rem?"

No matter your relationship the name stuck around quite a while.

"Why sirius?"

He repeated with more clarity this time.

"Because..." You began thinking for a moment.

He waited, and he waited patiently. That's all he ever wanted to be. When you left him for the better, he realised just how awful he had been.

It was no question that Remus struggled with self worth and acceptance.

After his father drifted away from him due to his lycanthropy he found it so hard to believe he deserved love.

So he said he didn't. He said he didn't deserve you.

He believed it.

But having the love of your life constantly question their worth can only be tolerated so much.

"Because He loves me."

You answered, glancing anywhere at the room but him.

His heart shattered. He blinked a few times, as if trying to make sure this is real.

He didn't miss the way you said 'he loves me' not 'i love him'.

It made him feel so guilty. He felt as though he never made you feel loved. As if He was never good enough.

To an extent that was true. Sirius made you feel wanted. Loved. He made you feel...happy.

But the words 'i love him' not leaving your mouth stuck with Remus.

It brought about the smallest bit of hope to his shattered heart.

"He's not good for you."

The nerve he has, huh?

"And you are?" You spit back. Venom lacing your voice but never quite meaning it.

"I needed you Remus. I needed my boyfriend then"

His mind lingered on the 'then'

It lingered because it will never be 'now' anymore.

You continued,

"i needed someone who understood what a relationship was, i needed someone who wasn't a self depreciating, self loathing, self hating person. I needed you to love yourself to let me love you!" You took a deep breath after your words, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

It was true, the number of times you'd heard remus say that he was a monster and he didn't deserve you was infuriating.

You can't help a person who doesn't want to be helped.

"Love please, I-"

"No. You don't get to call me that. You know Remus, Sirius treats me right...he treats me like I'm somebody. He doesn't make me feel invalidated, he trusts me! He makes me so, so happy and I couldn't possibly wish for more."

Without giving him a chance to speak you continued-

"so out of all people- you don't get to decide if he's good for me. Anyone but you does."

Your tears escaped.

And he stood there, out of words, the little bit of hope now crushed, laying beside his shattered heart.

So you walked away, you walked away and he watched you walk away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I suppose that's how he found himself standing at the altar, watching you walk down the isle as you clutch the bouquet of flowers close to your chest.

He watched with a tear, never letting it slip from his green eyes.

He was the best man, oh how he wished it was him who was marrying you instead.

His desire to hold you again, kiss you again, make you smile again seemed to remain as just that. A desire.

He watched as you beamed up at his best friend.

Beamed with a smile that he didn't put there, he only wished he had.

He watched as vows were exchanged.

This time you did say 'I love him' and it hurt so much worse.

Watched as you cried happy tears, something you never did in front of him before.

He watched as you were happy, you were loved and it wasn't by him.

He watched as you left, this time for good, left and changed your last name to Black.

He watched as you left with his best friend, his brother, and went on to continue whatever you planned for yourself in the future, just without him this time.

So you walked away, you walked away and he watched you walk away.

Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: so...sad rem. I liked this one tbh

Like, reblog or comment :D

I wanna do a fluff Remus soon probably so feel free to request:D

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot Extra #3

Masterpost

Warnings: none

This is not currently canon, but would take place much later into Elliot’s recovery, when he finally knows about Ambrose’s immortality and abandonment, but not the details. This may become canon later, I haven't decided

It was a Friday night, the last one before planting season, and the dining room was packed. It was more of a meeting than anything else, but Master Ambrose prided himself on being a good host, and Elliot would follow his wishes.

Elliot helped him send out a steady supply of platters laden with food, and drinks flowed over the chatter.

“So we’re going to rotate the fields this year-” 

“Well what about the sheep-”

“I’m just saying the orchards-”

“Ambrose, sir, I need more bread for the table,” he called as he put down more pints of ale.

“Got it.” Ambrose went to the kitchen to slice a new loaf.

The dull roar of the dining room suddenly turned to silence.

He looked up. 

Elliot had never seen a god before, but there was no mistaking him. He was tall, even taller than Ambrose, with dark black hair and one golden eye. 

He was looking around the room, and he was holding a bouquet of purple and white flowers.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice low and smooth, is Ambrose here?”

No one answered him.

It couldn’t be… could it?

There was movement in the corner of his eye, and then a clatter. Ambrose stood in the doorway, platter and bread at his feet.

The god beamed. “Darling,” he said, stepping towards Ambrose. Ambrose stalked forwards, his face stormy, and the god paused.

Ambrose raised a hand, and slapped the god across the face with full force. The crowd gasped, and Elliot winced.

The god didn’t move away, still holding the flowers. “I am so sorry, my love.”

“Sixty-five years,” said Ambrose, his eyes closed, face unreadable. “Without a fucking word.”

Elliot had never seen him so angry before.

“I know.”

“You left me!” he shouted, voice breaking, tears beginning to flow down his face. “You bastard!”

“I’m sorry, Rosey.”

“Don’t ‘Rosey’ me! Where have you been?!”

“I- I’d rather not say in front of-” Ambrose grabbed the god by the wrist, and they marched upstairs, the flowers dropped and forgotten on the floor.

Somebody cleared their throat, and the crowd launched back into discussion about the upcoming growing season.

Michael sat on the chair nearest him. “Did you know?”

“I knew he was married, but-” Elliot shrugged.

Michael looked up from his tankard. “None of us knew either, but I thought he’d at least tell you he was married to a damn god, especially the god of lies.”

Elliot bristled. 

“Michael!” snapped Judy from across the room.

“We don’t talk much about the past,” bit out Elliot. Michael, for his part, looked chagrined.

Elliot didn’t know who exactly knew the details about his old life, but the regret on Micheal’s face told him that the man knew some.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have guessed.”

Elliot picked up the bouquet of flowers. Some of its petals had dropped to the floor, but miraculously they were growing back.

Of course they were magic flowers.

“I’m going upstairs,” he announced to the room. No one stopped him.

He found an old water pitcher in his room, and plopped the flowers in.

He didn’t hear any screaming from Master’s room, which seemed like a good sign.

Elliot cautiously made his way upstairs, holding the flowers.

He knocked and pushed open the door. Ambrose and the god were sitting on the couch, hands locked together and tear tracks on Ambrose’s face.

Ambrose looked up, wiping his face. “Oh, uh, come in, Ellie.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Master,” he said. He put the flowers on the altar in the corner, and he realized the statue of Ambrose’s god was actually his husband.

“It’s fine. Janus, this is my friend, Elliot. Elliot, this is my husband, Janus.” Elliot did not look at the god’s face. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” said Janus. His gut twisted. Michael had said he was the god of lies.

But then again… If Ambrose married him, maybe he was okay.

He hesitated. “Likewise,” he managed, and Janus smiled at him. Soft and gentle, just like his statue.

___________________

Ambrose slammed open the door and kicked it closed behind them. 

He whirled on Janus. “So,” he crossed his arms, anger draining out of him. “Where have you been?”

“Well, you know how Mael and I never got along for long?”

“I recall.”

“I may or may not have been turned to stone for a while.”

Ambrose pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Stone.”

“I came as soon as I could, I promise.”

The story checked out as far as he knew. Mael and Janus had a famous rivalry, and it was sometimes less than friendly. Mael was not above turning a fellow god into a statue. Janus was not quite as proficient at physical magic as Mael, better suited to mental tricks.

On top of which, the other gods wouldn’t have been interested in getting involved in their petty arguments. Ambrose knew some of them; they often rolled their eyes at Janus and Mael. They might have thought Janus deserved it.

It made sense it took over fifty years for him to break the spell.

“Are we divorced?” asked Janus gently. “I understand if you want me to g-”

“You’re an idiot.” Ambrose took Janus’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

They sat down on the couch. Ambrose couldn’t bear to stay mad at Janus.

“You know, it’s awfully rude Mael didn’t tell me about your predicament. Wasn’t he at the wedding?”

Janus laughed, running his fingers over Ambrose’s knuckles. “I’ll let him know you’re offended.”

There was a knock on the door.

___________________

“There’s something strange about that boy,” said Janus, long after they had indulged themselves with each other. “What’s wrong with him?”

Ambrose sighed. “It’s not really any of your business.” Janus rolled onto his side, facing him.

“I’m just concerned,” he said, “Is he okay?” His hand drifted to the curve of Ambrose’s side, his thumb rubbing over the bare skin like he was fragile but irresistible. Ambrose shifted closer to him.

“No, but… he’s better than before.”

“How did you meet?”

“He came in one night begging for food. He was starving to death, and I wasn’t going to refuse.”

Janus nodded. His hand moved up past Ambrose’s ribs to his cheek. Ambrose leaned into his hand. He had missed Janus so much.

“How long ago was that?”

“Uh, three years give or take. He’s been staying here since. And I won’t make him leave, so deal with it,” he warned Janus.

“I wasn’t objecting. Just curious. He called you ‘master’ earlier. You didn’t-?”

“No, that wasn’t my doing. We tried working on it, but it’s something he can’t shake. Usually it’s ‘sir’, but sometimes he slips.”

“Mm.” Janus’s hand dropped from Ambrose’s cheek, and landed back on his side.

“He means a lot to you,” he guessed.

“Yes. Just… leave him be, okay? I don’t want him spooked. We’ve worked so hard.”

“I’ll keep my distance, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

Janus kissed him on the forehead, a familiar gesture that he’d been craving for so long.

“I love you,” said Janus. “I missed you.”

“Me too.”

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle

[sparemintss]

what WIP caphavers fics would you recommend reading?

I GOTCHU.

‘A’ is for… by virginianbloom is a GREAT modern au where they’re all teachers. ITS STILL GOING ON, IT HAS ONE CHAPTER LEFT. HAVERS IS A SUBSTITUTE TEACHER !! https://archiveofourown.org/works/51350230/chapters/129755194

Wartime Blues by ghost_daddy is a 1940s AU. So all the residents of Button house all live in the same street in 1940s https://archiveofourown.org/works/46124884/chapters/116114599

Fix Your Heart and Build an Altar Where it Swells by Plathes is an AU where the Captain survives the heart attack and is placed back at Button House with Havers to rehabilitate https://archiveofourown.org/works/51640432/chapters/130537219

Havers in Time by imashoutyghost it’s a time loop AU!! Basically Havers reliving the Captain’s death over and over and trying to stop it :’) https://archiveofourown.org/works/52266853/chapters/132214861

Carpet Burns and Carousels by Mithica so much back fucking pining and MISCOMMUNICATION. I GOT UPSET BUT THATS GOOD- https://archiveofourown.org/works/52503304/chapters/132818755

Everybody Loves Somebody (Sometimes) by capversen1 I am pretty sure they have seen my posts so if they see this, hi hello I love ur fic :’). Basically Havers becomes a ghost at button house and there’s a reunion! https://archiveofourown.org/works/51239641/chapters/129471865

I WOULD REC Saudade by King booooo but they just uploaded their final chapter 😭 (I’m still recommending it tho!) https://archiveofourown.org/works/52185175/chapters/131996239

Object of Desire by Daniel_eating_beans IF YOU WANT A VAMPIRE!HAVERS STORY . ITS REALLY FUCKING GOOD BUT THE CAPTAIN IS SO OBLIVIOUS IT’S CRAZY BUT OH MY GOD- https://archiveofourown.org/works/47955187/chapters/120909886

Sooo these are my recs for WIP capvers fics! Mainly because these are the ones I’m actually waiting for to update and I can’t wait ! :D

[iamthepulta]

♠️ How strange is it for Ea-Nasir to have kept so many of his complaints? A large part of the hearstory about Ea-Nasir here on tumblr is that the room of tablets of complaints he kept was abnormal, with the usual inference being that he was an egotistic scoundrel reveling in the displeasure of his clientele.

I'm sorry for taking so long to answer this question! I thought it would be much easier to answer than it was, haha.

This is the original archaeologist, Woolley's, original map (left), from Woolley, 1931. I've overlain the map with different colors (right), (mine) to hopefully alleviate confusion. [1]

What is known as Ea-Nasir's house, is called No. I Old Street (Grey). The main entrance is Grey-Room 1, which opens to an open courtyard. Grey-Room 5 and Grey-Room 6 both contain altars. Grey-Room 4 is small, beneath a staircase, and contains a drain. The courtyard also contains a drain and a earthen "box" near a kitchen area in Grey-Room 7. The only definitive context we have for a tablet addressed to Ea-Nasir is the one found near this box, in the doorway between Room 2 and 7. [2]

Tablet 16089a (or UET V 29) reads: "Speak to Ea-Nasir: Thus says Muhaddum with regard to the ingots: the sealed tablet of your companions has just 'departed' to you. Now Saniqum and Ubaiatum have gone to come before you. If you are truly my brother, send somebody with them, and the ingots which are at your disposition may be given to them." [translation: Leemans, 1960] [3]

The lack of definitive context is due to lack of cards and Woolley's need to fire the tablets before their reading/publishing [4]. Either the cards were actually lost, or, potentially, misattributed due to the amount of damage to Straight Street No. III (yellow) [5]. If you look up the descriptions of tablets mentioning Ea-Nasir [6], by name on UrOnline, most of them say, "House IV/Old Street No. I".

So that said, there are several notable features of No. I Old Street (grey) and No. III Straight Street (yellow)'s formal house descriptions [7].

Grey-Room 5, Grey-Room 6, and G-Y-Room 10 are all altar rooms. Typically, each house has one altar room. Two is unusual. Three is extremely strange.

No. I Old Street (grey) is extremely old, and the walls stayed relatively consistent.

The long Grey-Room 3 hallway originally connected to the purple and red rooms houses, but these were sold and bricked off.

No. III Straight Street (yellow) was "much ruined" and consistently remodeled, also younger than the boundary walls of Church St. No. III (orange) and Straight St. No. V (teal) [5, 2].

The half-walls of Yellow-Room 13 acted as three open sheds. Yellow-Room 9 was a kitchen, Yellow-Room 3 was a stairwell and drain, and Yellow-Room 4 was a bedroom. The door between the courtyard (Y-2) and "guest room" (Y-G-6) was larger than usual too, and the wall was built with brick mud and matting between the bricks to give a thick structure, unusual in private buildings.

Yellow-Grey-Room 10 was another altar with an incense room and chimney behind it (Y-G-11).

The position of the rooms with drains, G-2, G-4, Y-G-5, and Y-3 are all near altars or kitchens, including G-2 which is near the kitchen of G/Red-7.

Overall, even though Ea-Nasir's tablets might have been found here (which we can't be sure of, because the cards have been lost or misattributed), I think the shape, age, and abnormality of "Ea-Nasir's House" is important. None of the rooms in grey were described as or seem to be a bedroom, excepting the rooms that were sold and bricked off (red and purple).

Straight St. No. III that does seem to function as a house (kitchen, drain, second story, bedroom), clearly has access to the altars but with separation between them.

Because of the lack of tablet context and general abnormality, I don't think this means Straight St. No III was Ea-Nasir's house or he was an altar-keeper. Y-G-6, G-3, Y-8, or the upper floors could be used for tablet storage, but Woolley doesn't mention caches of tablets (or fallen tablets) in either location, while he does for No. VII Church Street (red) [8]. If the cards are misattributed and "House IV" means "House III" or another location, then we also have to reconcile the artifacts at that location which might have nothing to do with Ea-Nasir, or are also missing their artifact cards. And other than finding the cards, we might never know.

So at the very least, from the previous write-up, where Ea-Nasir is a man working closely to the temple, prioritizing the state's copper over private business orders, I think the little context we do have reflects that. That one tablet is not in an unusual location- It was delivered to the step of a religious area where the message would either be kept or eventually given to its intended recipient.

References below the cut:

1. Woolley, C. Leonard. “Excavations at Ur: The Antiquaries Journal.” The Antiquaries Journal XI, no. 4 (October 1931): p 32.

2. Woolley, Leonard, and Max Mallowan. Ur Excavations VII: The Old Babylonian Period. Ur Excavations 7. London: British Museum Pub. Ltd, 1976. https://archive.org/details/ur-excavations-vii.-the-old-babylonian-period. p 141-179.

3. Leemans, W.F. Foreign Trade in the Old Babylonian Period. Leiden, E.J. Brill, 1960. https://archive.org/details/foreigntradeinol0000leem/page/35/mode/1up. p 46.

4. Woolley and Mallowan. Ur Excavations VII: The Old Babylonian... p 17.

5. Woolley. “Excavations at Ur: The Antiquaries...” p 30.

6. Legrain, Leon. Ur Excavations Texts III: Business Documents of the Third Dynasty of Ur. Vol. 3. Publications of the Joint Expedition of the British Museum and of the Museum of the University of Pennsylvania to Mesopotamia, 1947.

7. Woolley and Mallowan. Ur Excavations VII: The Old Babylonian... p 141-179.

8. Woolley. “Excavations at Ur: The Antiquaries...” p 31.

[aphroditeslover11]

Somebody Else's Wedding

A little something that I wrote for @forgottenpeakywriter based on some prompts she sent me, I hope this makes you happy lovely. x

As for the smut I was trying to write, its coming slowly, sorry to the requester, but I am shit!!!

You had first encountered Robert in a meeting held by a mutual friend, focused on supporting local workers through the economic depression that the whole world was facing at the minute. Someone had introduced you and before you knew it you and you had immediately hit it off. You met up for subsequent meetings and then he started to take you out for dinner. It was fair that after the third of these occasions you had totally and irretrievably fallen for him. He led you along for a while, like a dog chasing a scent, until one day he kissed you as he walked you to the door of the house you were staying in. You were pretty sure that this was his way of cementing the deal, thought apparently not, or you wouldn’t be stood here. Your happy fantasy world had been broken apart weeks later when your parents, worried about the family reputation, had threatened to cut you off if you didn’t end all of your ties to left wing politics. This included Robert.

Today was your wedding day, and to your disappointment it wasn’t Robert who was stood at your side. Instead you were going to be married to a chemistry graduate who had just got a stable job working for Shell. He was a good match and a good friend, but he wasn’t Oppie. You felt like you were at somebody else’s wedding, not your own. Things were even worse in the fact that your fiancé had insisted that Oppie be invited along to the proceedings, having been his lecturer at Berkeley for a while. He had been sat at the back of the room, but you could still sense his presence in the air. As the service began it clearly became all too much for him, the small scuffle in the back pews alerting you to him leaving to avoid the painful situation, not that you could go anywhere.

The vows were progressing and you were getting towards the point of having to say your “I dos”, you had an impending sense of doom but there was hardly anything that you could do about it now, stood up at the altar. The reverend said the inaugural “If anyone here knows of any just cause or impediment as for why this couple should not be bound in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The room was quiet, but of course nobody was expecting anyone to actually speak. That was until one member of the congregation raised their hand - your friend and bridesmaid Sarah. The vicar seemed genuinely taken aback, before addressing her.

“Miss, you have a reason that this marriage should not go ahead? Please consider the gravity of what you are about to do before you share it.” Sarah was hesitant, but continued anyway.

“I suspect that… the bride may love somebody else.”

~

Robert was sitting in a pub not far from the church, drowning his sorrows with a glass of whiskey. His tie was loose, the top button of his shirt undone and moving between leaning back into the wall of the booth, trying to make himself invisible, and resting his head in his hands. He didn’t even look up at the flurry of activity when one of his students, Lomanitz who had also been invited to the wedding, came hurtling through the door looking for him. 

“Oppie, I have news.”

“What, have the happy couple tied the knot yet? How wonderful.” He didn’t even look up from the table, playing with an unlit cigarette, balancing it on his finger to find the centre of gravity.

“Actually, they haven’t tied anything.” He looked up then.

“What do you mean?”

“Sarah stood up and told the congregation that y/n was in love with you and the groom was so angry that he called the entire thing off.”

“You have to be joking me… where is she now?”

“Y/n?” Oppie nodded. “She’s gone home with the Chevaliers, nobody else would speak to her.” Robert stood, downing the rest of his drink, before making his way to the door.

“Thankyou Lomanitz, and remember to get your thesis to me by Monday.” 

~

In the meantime you were sat in the front room of the Chevalier residence. They were friends of Robert’s who knew you well and were the only people who were willing to help you after the revelation of the earlier ceremony. It was pouring with rain outside, the raindrops bouncing off the ground and the sky even blacker than your mood. You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock on the door, well three rather desperate sounding knocks to be honest. A male voice shouted through, telling you that he would sort it, so you went back to staring at the wall and nursing a glass of something rather potent you had found at the back of the kitchen cupboard.

‘Y/n, there’s someone here to see you.” You huffed as you got up, expecting it to be your parents or someone similar, making no hurry to get there. What met your eyes was somebody very different.

Robert was standing in the rain, soaked to the maximum with water dripping from the brim of his hat, now slightly bent from the moisture. 

“Should I come out or should you come in?”

“As much as I hate to say it we need some privacy, I hope you don’t mind the rain?” There was a strange look on his face that you just couldn’t read. You stepped out into the downpour, anticipation building in the pit of your stomach.

“Look, I’m sorry for walking out of the wedding today,” he started. “Lomanitz told me what happened though, is it true that you love me, because you see, I am so very in love with you.” The whole world stopped when he said that.

“Robert I… yes, I do love you.” The look of apprehension that had previously been rooted on his features quickly left, being replaced by a wide smile.

“I must be in heaven, there is no chance that somebody as beautiful as you could exist in this world. You’re the form of beauty, you know that.” You smirked at that, he always was smooth with his words.

“Oppie, I’m a bedraggled mess in the middle of a rainstorm., wearing a wedding dress from another man’s wedding.”

“It doesn’t matter, you are breathtaking.” He pauses. “In fact, I’m hoping that I might be buying you one of those soon.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, will you marry me?” I reach up for his face, reaching my arms around the back of his neck and pulling him into a deep and romantic kiss. Its a few moments until we break apart.

“I’ll take it that’s a yes!”