#oh the Lamb is there too but they don't do anything here

[justarandomlambblog]

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I may have listened to Into the West at the wrong moment

You can see me getting more and more tired the further you read. I spent like 20 hours on this and all my spoons (and skills) were used on the landscape-

[puppykento]

SALVATION - SUGURU GETO

ft. cult leader!suguru geto x fem!reader

a/n: first full fic on this blog !! been thinking on this for a WHILE and it's finally here :3 feedback/rbs insanely appreciated, hope you all like the fic <3 thank you to @kaitkatme and @nexysworld for beta reading this for me ♡

cw: 18+ content, manipulation, dub-con due to heavy coercion, fingering, corruption kink, loss of virginity, use of 'master', power imbalance, p in v, creampie, breeding, talks of marriage, geto calls reader his wife and little lamb

word count: 2k words

Suguru knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he had to have you. You came to him all nervous and jittery, unable to even meet his eyes. He can see the curse hovering over you, infecting you with its presence. He can tell it's been haunting your dreams before you even open your mouth to say anything, without even looking at the dark circles under your eyes. He listens to you talk, nodding along with feigned sympathy to make you feel comfortable and let your guard down around him.

“I can cure you of your ailment, my dear. But it is best if you stay here for a few days. I can sense you're troubled, and I hope to make sure I can rid you of this disease properly.” He says after a moment, but he's already reaching out to absorb the curse, slipping the orb into his pocket to consume later. He tilts his head, offering you a grin that's all teeth with a hidden sense of malice. 

“I'll have someone set up a room for you.” Is all he says before he's leaving the room, waving in one of his disciples to deal with you for now. He had plans he had to form, so he couldn't waste his time on you just yet.

                              ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

He returns to you later that night, a lesser curse prepared to infect you with, using it to infect the herbal tea he's prepared for you. For a human of your health, it should simply induce a fever and fitful sleep. Enough for him to convince you that you needed to stay while he purged you of the ‘ailment’ he had diagnosed you with. Enough for him to get closer to you.

“Has everything been to your liking?” He asks as he settles on the edge of your bed, pressing the back of his hand to your head as he hands you the infected tea, making sure you don't take too bad of a turn in reaction towards it. He watches you closely as you start to sip from it, politely thanking him and nodding at his question. Non-sorcerers were such weak, fickle people. He could not harm you before he'd got what he wanted from you.

The effect is almost instant. He watches your eyelids droop as you gaze at him, almost looking like you're in a daze. Your skin grows hot under his touch, growing clammy as the fever sets in. He bites his cheek to suppress a smile as he sees how well the curse takes to you, forcing a look of concern to wash over his face.

“Oh, dear. I've been working on flushing the illness from your body, but it appears it's fighting back. I really do recommend you take my offer to stay for a few days. A week, maybe. Your recovery is important to me, dear.” He says softly, his practised tone low and caring, designed to lure you into a false sense of security. He smiles when he sees you nod in agreement, gently swiping his thumb against your forehead.

You really are far too pretty for a mere non-sorcerer, he thinks, his gaze trailing your face. It felt like a waste that someone like you was born as such a lesser creature. It was a good thing you had Suguru to guide you, to direct you along the right path. You'd be the only one of your kind worthy of walking amongst other sorcerers and his disciples. His perfect wife. You'd want him soon enough, he'd make sure of it.

Over the next few days, he works slowly to wean you off of the curse he'd put into your system, doting on you as much as his dwindling patience would allow while building up your trust in him. After a few days, he removes it, pocketing the orb and nursing you through the lingering effects it had left behind.

The fever remains, rendering you bed bound even without the curse in your system. It appeared to have weakened your immune system considerably more than Suguru had initially anticipated. Not that it particularly mattered - feverish was good and could easily work in his favour. It would make you more delirious, more pliable to his wishes.

He makes his way to your room with your nightly tea, offering you a small smile as he sits on the edge of your bed, instinctively pressing his hand to your head as he'd done every night prior to this one. He hands you your tea, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Your fever is fading. I don't think it'll be long before you've returned to your normal self.” He tells you, his eyes locked onto yours as you sip from the cup in your hand.

“Thank you for your help, Master Geto. I feel a lot better now. It's been a while since I managed to get a full-night's sleep.” You reply, offering him a gentle smile. Your eyes still look a little hazy, as if you're about to fall asleep any moment. Suguru decides to put his plan into action.

You're not quite delirious enough to miss the way his hand wanders along your side, caressing the curve of your hip and giving it a squeeze before he slips his hand under your shirt, feeling the fever hot skin of your stomach. His eyes flick up as he hears the cup being set on the table, your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Master Geto-”

“Shh, shh. Quiet, little lamb. I'm doing this to help you. You trust me, don't you.” He coos, his voice almost disarmingly sweet. You're not used to him using that tone, and it sends your mind spinning for a moment. You gasp as his hand slips higher, cupping your bare breast as he runs a thumb over your nipple. His hands feel cold on your heated skin, causing the bud to stiffen under his touch.

“Non-sorcerers are so predictable. One touch and you're already willing to submit to me.” He says with a soft huff of laughter, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, drawing a whine from you. He sees your expression when he refers to you as such, which only serves to make him laugh harder. “Oh, please don't tell me you mistook me for one of your pathetic kind?”

His hands shift to pull on your trousers, yanking them down with your underwear. You kick out, but the fever makes you weak. Your fight amuses Suguru, drawing another laugh from him. “My little lamb is such a fighter. Darling, there's no use in fighting. You will be my wife, and you will give me an heir.”

He watches you closely, waiting for a protest that doesn't come. Only then does he truly smile, a grin spreading across his face. His thumb parts your pussy, and he clicks his tongue softly when he comes into contact with your wetness. “Ah, what's this? Does being my wife please you so much? Has another man touched you like this before, little one?”

You shake your head instantly, your cheeks growing hot under his intense gaze. He hums softly in thought, dipping his thumb past your entrance, gently teasing it. “A virgin? Mhm, I almost can't believe I'd be so lucky. You don't mind if I check, do you?”

The way you squirm as he slips his thumb away to push his index finger into your cunt is enough to tell him you're untouched, but he doesn't plan on stopping any time soon. The sooner you're swollen with his children, the better. He wants to make sure that you'd be his obedient little wife, and he has no plans on letting you so much as leave this room until he's stuffed you full.

He takes his time stretching you out, slowly adding extra digits until you're keening after being stuffed full of three of his fingers. He presses his palm against his clit as he opens you up, smirking as he watches you attempt to hump his hand to get some friction against your swollen bud. He pulls his hand away when he feels you clenching around his fingers, tutting softly.

“Now, now, little lamb. No cumming unless it's on my cock.” His words are followed by him removing his kāṣāya and loosening his yukata so he can free his cock, pumping it lazily a few times before aligning himself with your entrance. You choke out a gasp as he presses forward, slowly sinking into you inch by inch. You feel like the air is being pushed out of your lungs, your hands clutching losely at the robe still dangling from his body.

“M-Master…” You breathe out, your expression tense as he buries himself to the hilt in your cunt. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to remain still despite the tight heat surrounding him. A hiss is forced out through gritted teeth as he slowly starts to move, his hand gripping your waist tightly to prevent you from moving too much.

“Quiet, little lamb. You will adjust. Your body was made to take my seed. I knew that as soon as I laid eyes on you.” He grits out, placing your calves over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper, his hips slapping the flesh of your ass with every thrust.

His cock glistens with your arousal, spotted slightly with blood that serves as evidence of your purity. The sight has him smiling, rutting his cock into you with more urgency. His pretty wife was perfect for him in every way. He'd be the first and last man to ever touch you. He'd make sure of it. The tip of his cock presses against your cervix as he adjusts his hips, making sure every inch of him fills you.

“My little wife… I'll keep you nice and filled for days. Gonna make sure it takes, gonna give you my baby.” His cock brushes your sweet spot every time he drags it along your fluttering walls, your slick coating his length, dripping down to his balls. The sight alone is almost enough to make him cum, but he's determined to see you cum first. He can be a kind leader, after all - and there is a large part of him that would love to feel you tighten around him, drawing his out his orgasm.

“Bet you'd like that, hmm?” He questions, biting back a moan as he thrusts balls deep into your drippy cunt, grinding the hair at the base of his cock against your clit. His hands slide down to spread your lips so he can rut his pelvis against you. You moan out his title as you finally come undone, flooding him with your release. He fucks into you sloppily, strands of silky, black hair framing his face as he lets his head hang down. “It's an.., ah… honour to carry my child. Thank me for… for choosing you. Fuck… thank your master, little lamb.”

“Thank you.” You whine, back arching as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the sensitivity causing tears to form in your eyes. You clench tighter around him, doing your best to milk his cock dry. “Thank you, Master.”

The words are enough to send him over the edge, his teeth clenching as he lets out a guttural moan, forcing himself right up against your cervix to ensure his cum stays deep inside of you. He lets out a shaky breath, doing his best to manoeuvre both of you into a lying position without pulling out.

He gently wipes a few tears that spill past your eyes with the pad of his thumb, pressing a kiss to your head. “Shh, little lamb. You'll be alright. I'll take care of you and my child. I promise.”

He had every intention of following through on his promise. He would not let harm come to his heir or wife, and he'd gladly kill anyone who attempted to disrespect you. You were his now, and he always protected what was his.

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Recently got busy and haven't had time to be around at all .. I just skimmed through whatever I have missed while I was away and I realized how badly I missed your writing style... It's just so ue2ge8eh27db❤️❤️⁉️⁉️ I can't really explain it.. its scrumptious, very very yummy... So I come with a little request... We know the obey men are quite and as a short girlie that's just like so fucking attractive like?????????? Sirrrr???? 😖😖

Imaginee... getting picked up by them and quite literally hanging off their cock as they just dangle you in the air, your feet not touching the ground as they just fuck yiu silly, watching your writhe and sob as their cock leaves a bulge on your stomach as you claw at their arms. They don't even gotta be trying, your just go dumb on their cock, crying how it's too big and having them bully themselves in you...

Basically that prompt with barbatos, Simeon and beel

I'm a very horny Tumblr user as you can tell LMAO

Love you though, take rests, eat, drink, stay healthy, darling. Mwah 💋

-M. 🪭🪷

Oh my god look who's back?!!! Hey M!!! Missed you loads, hopefully life eases up on you, busy little thing! Thank you for checking in, it means the world ❤️

And your ideas...just *chef's kiss*. Here's another treat for the short AFAB folks with size kink out there!!!

Little Body Big Heat

Afab! MC x Barbatos, Simeon, Beelzebub

Barbatos mock apologizes as you pant and plead him to stop. But he's barely even doing anything really. All he's doing is just standing there, carrying you in his arms, holding you so close.

You're the one struggling and twitching to take him in more or push him out. The way you are writhing - he genuinely cannot tell but he sure is enjoying the show.

"MC, use your words, won't you? I'm sorry I can't understand you when you're like this, my love." He coos, brushing hair away from your face.

"Mhhmm- B-Barb please.... please it's too much. Please ....just... help me move..." You struggled to string a sentence together.

And he finally the gracious butler takes pity on you. You're asking so nicely after all.

"Is this better?" He moves so painfully slow, you whine into his ears. "Oh? Would you like me to be... faster?" He kisses your neck, feeling the vibrations of your delightful complains, which soon would turn into delightful screams. And he wants everyone to hear them too.

Simeon's angelic side simply ceases to exist when it comes to his desire for you. Honestly what were you thinking falling asleep, sitting on his lap. Don't you know he already has a hard time behaving himself around you?

"Did you have a good sleep, MC?" He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you closer for a kiss. "As you can see...I've run into quite the problem. I can't go home to Luke while I'm like this now, can I?"

You take some time to come to your senses. After all, it's not every day you wake up with Simeon's erection between your legs.

"Would you like to use me...to calm it down?" You gingerly try to hold him down there, it took both of your hands yet he was still much too big for you. He made a low groan at the contact.

"Really, you wouldn't mind?" He asks even as his fingers are already touching your waist, slowly pulling off your top.

"Your sense of duty is really admirable, MC." He chuckles as he pulls off your shorts, now undoing his own pants. "Now then, where would you like me?"

"You...can choose." You let him feast on you with his eyes and hands, enciting soft whimpers and moans. His fingers delight at the wetness pooled between your legs, toying with you before pressing his erection against your puffy clit.

He pushes into your hole, stretching you out but before you can't even let out a sound. His tongue is inside your mouth devouring your screams. You've taken him in so well. He can feel himself bulge out your stomach. "Does that feel good, my little lamb?"

You nod even tears collect at the corner of your eyes. "So good..so... full... It's toobiigg... you'resooo big S-Simeon... please..." Oh how he loves doing this to you.

Beelzebub's length is only the second most dangerous thing about him. The first is his stamina. You realise this now as you have been pressed against his lockers for what feels like hours. Your feet haven't touched the ground in so long.

"Beel...a-are you still.. not done..." You watched him pant, looking at you with a frenzied look in his eyes. When you told him you'd help him get his mind off food, this is not how he thought it would go.

"Beel! I-I know you're really famished ..but ...but you can't... keep...doing this...ahhhmn..mnhn Beel I'm about to...cum again...stop please..." He kept sucking your slick up, right through your orgasm. Talk about overstimulation.

He already tormented you with his tongue down there till you were leaking through your underwear. And now that he was too aroused to calm down, you simply had to let him fuck you. "Just...one last time, MC. I promise."

Yeah sure. He said that two rounds ago. Seriously you wondered how you had not passed out yet. But then again, everytime he moved - you swear he kept discovering a new pleasure point inside you.

"MC your face right now...you look so cute...I'm sorry I couldn't stop myself...and you feel so warm..." He plunged in and out of you again, bouncing you on his dick effortlessly. Of course he hasn't thought about food, he's been too busy devouring you.

[l3viat8an]

I literally cannot stop thinking abt the boys with MC (ohmygosh I just imagined this with poly!mc and think it would be even better) that has a voice kink. Especially Lucifer, even tho ik he's kinda the obvious one for that here and maybe even Satan. And when they realize???? oh boy mc is in for a ride.

I really don't have anything to add onto this, like that's just what's been on my mind!!! and wanted to share the idea!!

(hope you're doing well <3)

-♈️ anon

Nsfw!

Hejshsjhs voice kink with poly!MC would be amazing because they’re all, always teasing you~ The worst ones tho are; Lucifer, Asmo & Satan (imo)

Lucifer

He enjoys teasing you in public the most. He'll be whispering the dirtiest things right in your ear and watching you try not to blush-

Telling you how he can’t wait to have you whining for his cock and how sweet your own voice will sound when your cunt is stretching around him, “So, be a good little lamb until then~”

Asmo

He’s knew before you actually told him. It is his job after all lolol

Would make you tell him exactly what you’d like to hear in bed~ would you like low whispers right in you ear? Soft whimpers mixed with moans of your name? Grunts and groans? Or?- the list goes on- “Go on, talk to me, sweetie~ I know you’re enjoying this, but which part exactly~?”

Satan

will walk up behind you and whispers in your ear, “I heard from Asmo that our sweet human has a voice kink?..." and you're rubbing your thighs…..hearing Satan’s soft chuckle against your ear as he walks off. 

You've given all of them too much power-

[luveline]

hi jade, sending a request for prince steve if ur box is open rn, my apologies if not! i was wondering if we could get something about maybe the night before the wedding where they decide to make some private promises to each other that the whole kingdom won't be privy too? just some sweetness in general from those two would be nice. thx!! love u and ur writing and happy new years!

prince!steve soulmate au —you and steve have a last minute panic the night before your wedding, 1.3k. fem

Steve holds your hand all the way to the garden. It isn't proper to see him so late at night, especially the night before your wedding, but the guards lining the corridors say little as you pass. Selenite shines under your slippers, white shot through with an impossible light marbling. 

Steve sees where you're looking and gives your fingers a tender stroke. “You okay?” he asks. 

You nod and follow him down the steps to the garden. Steve has his own private section with a hammock on lifted stone and a terrace covered in honeysuckle. There's a picnic basket and a bottle of something beside it near two round cushions, but the small record player is what catches your attention. 

“Oh, you're going to sing for me,” you joke. 

“If you want me to. Are you warm enough?” 

The weather is temperate. Not as hot as you'd hoped but it is getting late, the surrounding light of the kingdom and the crystal eucalyptus sconces glowing a minty blue that chases back the shadows but not the lack of sun. 

“It's fine,” you say, giving his hand a careful squeeze back. He smiles to himself and helps you around the grass and onto your cushion. 

He knows your nerves are shot. You're terrified for tomorrow, so scared of the crowds and the ceremony and the great heavy weight of your tiara. Your dress is less imposing, colourful, gaussian cuts of silk layered over you like something out of your storybooks. When you saw it you gasped, unable to coalesce the image you'd seen in the mirror with your usual reflection. 

The wedding is suddenly here. You'll be a princess. You'll be his wife. 

“Steve,” you say tightly, wrapping your arms around your knees. 

“I know.” He opens the picnic basket and unearths a brown paper bag. “Here.” 

You take his little bag knowing already that it'll be filled with pear candies. “We have to run away,” you say, poking nervously through the candy for a small one. You put it between your molars and talk through your teeth. “Tonight.” 

“I have my bags packed.” He pulls out a sandwich made of finely cut tofu toasted in paprika and oil, then a second with softer bread. “That's lamb.” 

You raise your brows at it. “Thank you, Steve, really, but I'm–” 

“Not hungry. Me neither.” He closes the basket and pushes it all away, leaving nothing but air between you. “Do you really want to run away?” 

“Do you really want to marry me?” you ask. 

“Mm. More than anything,” he says, as though it isn't a big deal, as though he isn't himself. Steve acts like loving you is something he would've done regardless, and it always catches you off guard. 

“But if we weren't–” 

“But we are.” 

“If we weren't–” you stress. 

Steve crosses his legs on the pillow. He looks completely normal tonight, his hair unstyled and curling by his ears, his loose shirt and pants reminiscent of your own. The only thing that gives him away is the silver ring on his pinky finger that denotes the kingdom's main house. It's priceless. You could live a thousand luxurious lives off of the spoils you'd make from selling it. 

He twists it around his fingers when he notices your gaze. “Okay,” he says, pulling it off. 

“What?” 

“If you want to run away, I won't stop you. I've told you before that I'd never make you do something you don't want to do, and I still mean it.” He smiles handsomely as he offers you the ring. “Take it, sweetheart. I don't want it.” 

You take it uncertainly. 

“But if you want to stay,” he adds, his naked hand on the floor between you, “then I promise to make you believe it.” 

“Believe what?” you ask through a frown. 

“That being soulmates doesn't matter. Of course it does, I couldn't be luckier in who the fates picked for me, or the stars, whatever you believe, sweetheart, I couldn't be luckier. And if we weren't soulmates, I– if we met somewhere different, I'd still want to marry you. You know that? I look at you, and you're it for me.” 

You shake your head. “Would you come with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Really?” 

“Is that hard to believe?” He gets onto his knees adjacent and holds out his hand, relief like the sun shining in his warm voice as he murmurs, “I'm freaking you out.” 

“You're not.” 

“I'm being too forward.” His smile wavers. “The wedding isn't for us. I want to marry you, but we both– I know you're not ready. You're doing this for me, because I've asked you to, because they've asked us to, and you're not ready. We don't know each other.” 

“We do,” you say. 

“Okay, we do.” He rubs the back of your hand, once again so tender. “But not as much as most married people do.” 

“Right,” you say quietly. 

“And the wedding is a total sham anyways. You're going to look beautiful, and I'll be handsome like always,” —you laugh breathlessly, your panic melding to relief— “but it's definitely not for us. I get that. There's no pressure for anything to change between us, okay? I like things how they are.” 

He shrugs and it's such a cute gesture, you forget for a moment what's worrying you. A split second, thinking, oh, he's lovely to look at. He acts like the Prince he is. He acts as though he's already fallen in love with you. 

“I think I'm just panicking because we don't have any choice,” you say. 

“We do, honey,” he reassures you. “Of course we do. If you really, really don't want to get married, we won't.” 

It would cause a huge palaver, and it might break his heart a little. It might, when you think about it, break yours.

“But I'm marrying you,” you say.

He breathes out hard, taking your shoulder into his hand to pull you forward for a relieved, chaste kiss. It's so sweet and warm, you can't help pulling away too fast. His soul mark glows a rosy pink. “You're marrying me,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I'm a lucky guy, huh?” 

He holds out his arms for a hug which you immediately give. 

“I want to marry you,” you continue, delighted when he relaxes in your arms. “I do. It's not about you, I'm just terrified. I mean, it's not really us? I didn't even get to write my own vows.” 

A small but heavily felt silence lapses. “You wanted to do that?” Steve asks. 

You nod into his shoulder, refusing to lean away even as his hands retract. “Yeah,” you say, voice small. 

“You really want to?”

“You've promised me a lot of things since I found you. I would've liked to return the favour,” you say, flustered. 

“You found me,” he says. You don't need to see his face to hear his smile. "Here, give me that back. If you aren't running away, you may as well wear it." He slides it onto your marriage finger. The significance isn't lost.

He gets you both a pad of paper and a cup of scratchy pens, and you spend the evening writing vows you're too embarrassed to say aloud to one another in the garden. You swap papers, and spend the night pouring over his promises with an aching awe built in your chest. When the maids come calling that morning you're already awake, getting ready for the day ahead. 

I'll make you laugh, and I'll keep you safe, and I'll never let the Palace idiots boss you around. I'll be the best kiss ever, and a better friend. I'll be careful with your heart if you're careful with mine. And I won't laugh if you slip in your new shoes. Much.

[angelshimaa]

@flying-lamb :: I would like to request shinso with prompt 8 from the under the mistletoe prompt list. congrats on your milestone! <3 thank you so much <3

a/n :: hi darling !! thank you so much for entering (and i loved the details you sent in omg !) and i hope this makes you smile :) gn!reader, a little awkward at the beginning, fluff

event.

you've never regretted where you've stood so deeply before.

then again, it wasn't really your fault. kaminari and ashido had gone overboard with the mistletoe placings— their way of bringing romance into the holiday spirit— and it was inevitable that someone would find themselves under some with another person.

it just had to be you and him, didn't it?

you and shinso are looking at each other, nervousness rising in your chest at your sudden predicament. it's not that you don't want to kiss him— heavens know how badly you've been wanting it— but not like this.

not when the eyes of your friends burn into the two of you like lasers (thanks to kaminari pointing the two of you out), making this feel more nerve-wracking than it needed to be.

“do you want to?” shinso’s voice is lowered, ensuring that only you can hear him. he’s known you long enough to understand the nerves you have based on how you look at him. “you can say no.”

you utter your consent so nobody else can hear, your posture as rigid as a deer caught in headlights. shinso doesn't like the abruptness of this, the nerves bubbling in his stomach or the intensity of everyone watching, but he can't deny he's wanted to kiss you for so long.

the two of you don't even manage that— your noses bump into each other and the embarrassment shoots through you at the speed of light. it's hard to even look at him properly, settling to lower your eyes to the ground, imagining it opening up to swallow you whole.

shinso tells kaminari there's nothing to be seen here, indirectly informing your audience too. thankfully, it comes off casual, not sounding as awkward as your almost kiss felt to you.

when everyone focuses on whatever they had their eyes on before, you recover as best as you can, trying to force your embarrassment to the back of your mind. you're thankful shinso doesn't make a big deal out of it, and you find that you manage to recover quick enough to enjoy the rest of the party.

— ✧ —

“you make some good coffee,” shinso holds onto his cup, his fingers curling around it so as to absorb as much heat as possible. it's really not needed; your home is the perfect toasty protection from the crisp cold you endured on the walk here from the party. “can’t believe you'd hide that from me.”

you take a sip of your own beverage and grin against your cup. “maybe you should come by more often then, you addict.” nobody drank coffee quite like shinso. you've watched him inhale it like oxygen he's been deprived of— it disappears like he’s performing a magic trick.

“don’t tempt me, i just might.” his lazy grin spreads across his face and oh does it look so good on him. you think it's rather unfair how well he pulls off his eyebags and messy hair— he's not even trying.

“i’m counting on it.”

the silence swells and you trail back to the awkwardness that took place a few hours ago; you want to kick yourself for not tilting your head the other way. had you done exactly that, you'd be a kissed person now— kissed by the guy you've been crushing on for a while.

“listen, y/n—” he clears his throat, setting his coffee down onto the table. “i feel like i should apologise for... earlier. i didn't mean to make it all awkward.”

you laugh lightly, setting your own cup to direct all your attention onto him. you lock eyes with him, realising that actually, you'd give him your attention anytime he asked.

“no need to apologise, hitoshi. if anything, i wasn't really... present much. i was a little frozen in place— so many eyes can do that to a person.”

a beat passes and all you do is look at each other while shinso thinks of what to say next.

“so, it wasn't that you didn't want me to kiss you?” he's found his next sentence and it tumbles out of him with ease. his eyes look alluring, inviting even, and you can never get over the feeling they settle into you. you haven't called it by it’s name aloud, but you don't need to.

“hmm,” you pretend to think about it, tapping your finger against your chin. “i don't think so, no.” you hope this is going in the direction you think it is, that he's picking up whatever hint you think you're dropping.

“so, would i be right in guessing that you’d like to try again?” it's a carefully chosen suggestion, uttered with a lower, slightly hesitant voice. shinso feels as though he might be pressing, but surely if he was and if you minded, you'd let him know.

“maybe if you ask nicely.” the way your slow grin spreads across your lips after your words has his eyes widening slightly, erasing any worries he had previously. you want him to want you. you want him to ask for you.

“making me work for it, hm?” shinso returns your grin with that lazy one that sends you loopy whenever you find yourself thinking about it. taking your bait and running with it, he leans in closer to you. “alright.”

you've never seen a lovelier colour than the purple of his irises. “could i try to kiss you again, beautiful?” those eyes, framed by his eyebags, could melt anything they land on, and you were currently their main focus. he's hooked on the way everything else seems to slow around him, hooked on that gentle smile of yours.

“i don't see why not.”

it's all shinso needs before he comes in even closer, breathing in slightly before pressing his lips against yours. you instantly melt into the feel of him, trying to focus on the rhythm and not his hand coming up to rest on your lower thigh, finding a home against it.

you note the faint taste of coffee and the softness of his lips while your hand brushes up his neck to cup his face, not knowing how every inch of skin you touch feels warmer when you leave it behind.

your hearts are left thumping hard when you pull away, lungs taking in air throughout your shallow breathing. you look even more magical to him than you ever have, a feat he didn't think was even possible.

“that was much, much better.” he lets out a breathy chuckle and it only provides the butterflies fluttering in your stomach with more energy.

you smile, nodding a little. “way better. maybe third time's the charm—”

shinso’s kissing you again, and it's everything you both hoped it would be. it's private and so perfect that way, like a little joy you both keep for yourselves. his mouth on yours feels so right, and you don't think either of you will be leaving this couch anytime soon.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

[error4343]

Questions

CW: gore & blood It all will end where it began - at Snake Meadow Hill Church Love letter for @zzoupz John loves you AU

Don't be afraid, preacher. I hear His voice loud and clear now. He's welcoming you. And so do I. It's our last opportunity to talk before my Ascension. So ask, don't make Him wait

What you want to ask about?

John You don't recognise my face, Miller? I'm John Thomas Ward, a servant of His, just like you. I condemned myself to God since young age and, under guidance of father Garcia, learned true ways of preaching and serving His will. I was priest of false church before you, cowards, threw me away from God's home. But I hold no anger.

Snake Meadow Hill Church Too predictable, isn't it? Sentimental even. I was thinking the same when we moved here. Still, this place more fitting than anything: it's cradle of my own faith.

What you want to ask about?

Horned twins Ah, will-o-wisps. You're not the first whom they brought here. My apologize if they caused you any trouble. I couldn't deny them their fun.

"Him" I see. You forgot for whom you've been praying to. Don't be ashamed: you're not the first or last one to went astray. Recall: Him is above, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. If only you weren't so afraid, you would hear His voice though mine.

What you want to ask about?

Lisa Pearson Made not for caring His will on her shoulders, but for guide us towards it. A sinless lamb, iconographer, send to us long ago even before I knew my destiny. She was closer to absolute pureness that anyone of us could get. She was the one whom Initiation you interrupted, but it doesn't metter now. Everything went according to plan. She's with Him now, speaking with us from above.

The Ascension The Ascension isn't some bloody mess as you describe in church guidelines. It's delicate, precise process of hard work. And in the end - He grands His blessing. Firstly, one must clean themselves from any sin. For each sin there's way of redemption. Not just penance: for pride, lust and warth - mortification of flesh, for greed - poverty of monkhood, for envy - condemnation to another, for gluttony - everlasting fest, for sloth - work. Cleaning can take years… But you will know when you're ready.

Then comes the Ascension. No need to describe - you about to witness it. Participate, even.

Oh, how nice of you were to visit us today.

[the-one-who-lambs]

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

[kissesforsatoru]

Hi! Can I ask for some headcanons of Mikey and Izana taking an interest in the sibling of one of their gang members? After all it's a peak sibling behaviour to be given away to their brother's crazy boss like some sacrificial lamb.

MIKEY, IZANA x READER (separate)

₊˚⌗ mikey and izana taking an interest in one of their gang member’s sibling.

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, potential kidnapping??? implied forced relationships (i kept it vague, so it’s up to personal preference, really)

notes : i said i would start getting requests and i know, i know, it’s been a few days since then, but look! i got this done for you guys :) it is definitely not my best work though, so keep that in mind

mikey : your older brother so happened to piss mikey off, you heard vaguely something about giving up critical intel to a rivaling gang without even realizing he was doing it, your idiot brother. since it wasn't intentional, mikey decided to take care of it himself by coming to your house to try and settle a deal with your brother.

you heard the commotion and listened through the door their conversation, and just when it was getting a little bit interesting, a little bit heated too, you pressed to hard against the door not knowing it wasn't closed all the way causing you to fall right into the floor in front of mikey and your brother.

"oh? who's this, huh?" mikey asks in a low tone, one bordering on amused as he looks away from you and at your brother, smirking. you only stare dumbfounded, still stiff on the floor from such an embarrassing give away to your eves dropping while your brothers eyes widen as he looks between you and mikey nervously.

"mikey, they don't have anything to do with this. they were just listening in cause they don't know how to mind their fucking business, alright? this is between you and me," your brother chokes out, sounding desperate. you scoff offendedly at the jab out you being nosey; who the hell wouldn't be nosy when their brother got his ass into some trouble with a gang leader?

your annoyance with your brother dissipates when mikey bends down in front of you, his hand coming to grab at your chin, moving your face from side to side as he looks at you.

"you're pretty, aren't you?" he whispers more to himself than anyone else in the room, but you still heard him, and you gulp in anticipation, lips parting afterwards to breath in more air because you feel suffocated under his gaze.

"you know, i can forget all about your little mess up if you let me have your sibling..." mikey suggests, an almost threatening tone laced within his words. you inhale sharply as your stomach whirls and your heartbeat races. your brother gives you a sympathetic look, and you know then that there's no way getting out of this.

izana : it was chance that he met you, the younger sibling to one of his lower ranked gang members. you weren't supposed to be at the docks, but you followed your brother one night who had foolishly led you straight into the prying, lustful eyes of other gang members of whom you had the misfortune to catch the eye of. the commotion caught izana's attention, and from that moment you'd trapped yourself in a corner to be stalked and analyzed by a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

you really were like a deer in headlights that night, stumbling shyly into the center of the docks for all to see. your brother stood staring wide eyed at you, hissing about why the fuck you were there and how you should be asleep at home, but izana was quick to shush him.

"why the hell are you getting mad when you were the insolent fuck who got followed, huh?" he grits, glaring at your brother, daring him to say another word. when your brother bites his tongue and looks away shamefully, izana turns to you with a softer expression on his face.

"it's dangerous for you to be around here at night, you know? do you even know what kind of place you walked yourself into?" he asks, a lilt of amusement in his voice as he watches you curl into yourself, your hands grasping at the hem of your shirt tightly.

"i just-" you start, a nervous wobble in your voice as you realize the kind of situation you've found yourself in, "my brother- i just wanted to know what my brother was up to. i didn't know it would be, uh, this..." you trail off, taking a small step back when izana starts to approach.

"yeah? well, you're awful dumb, huh? now look at you, you're practically shaking like a fucking leaf," he huffs a laugh, "don't worry, pretty angel, not a damn person here will hurt you. i'll make fucking sure of that," he whispers the last part to you as he stops right in front of you, staring at you with his wide, intense eyes.

[2smolbeans]

Part 1 Part 2.5 character info

He let out a soft series of chuckles. Staring at you with a pitiful look, showing an expression of fake sympathy.

"I don't love you, and I never will. Not even if you beg and try. "

Love Me, Love Me Not (2)

Yandere Best Friend x Obstacle Reader

*unedited

Tags: small description of Nsfw- they don't fuck, self loathing, hostage keeping, one sided attraction, betrayal, mentions of previous friendships the yandere broke, slight angst, yandere is attracted to someone else, escape planning, mentions of a previous murder victim, reader is complicit to the murders, guilt, past memories.

Disclaimer: This is just a scenario I thought of with an Oc! So nothing is really 'official' or canon-

_____________________________

You look at the door, contemplating your next move. It's right there, just staring at you. The latch was loose, Marco didn't consficate the butter knife like he did usually whenever the two of you ate, and he was no where to be seen. It was so fucking conveinent, so perfect. Too perfect...Maybe you were just paranoid. The latch. The door. Just do it. Run. Sprint. Why were you panicking? This was all on you now. Your legs were shaking as you wobbled your way towards the door, grabbing the butterknife that you were previously cutting the lamb chops with. Trembling, you tried to bust open the secuirty latch. But ultimately you ended up throwing the butterknife into the sink.

Falling onto the couch, grabbing a soft pillow as a soother, you let out a frustrated scream. It's better to be safe than sorry. If anything, Marco could be hiding behind the door waiting for you. For all you know, Marco could be waiting outside the apartment complex exits, standing by while he prepares to tackle you when you finally rush outside. He could be testing you. Why wouldn’t he? It was just predictable. You knew better than to assume that Marco would freely let you loose.

So you waited, and waited. The more time passed, the more you started second guessing your choice. Wow, maybe he was just clumsy. For what seemed like forever, Marco finally rushed into the room, slamming the door open before closing it shut.

"Did I scare ya?"

He smugly spoke, swaying his way towards you while he dragged two suitcases. Stiff from the frozen fear that had shot you in the chest, you only stared at Marco wide eyed.

"I'll take that as a yes..? Anyways stay put, I just need to do this real quick.."

Peeking into the contents of the suitcases, you heard Marco examine and fix the locks. Noticing that one of the latches were left loose, Marco turned back to look at you- surpirsed yet expecting this from you. You stayed, you're still here.

Huh...

While Marco was preoccupied with himself, you reached out into one of the luggages. It was your stuff! Holding out an old shirt of yours, you let out an accidental gasp.

"Oh yeah, I figured that you might want a few things of yours. I mean I can't have my roomie empty handed~"

Underwear, socks, shirts- everything! He even brought a few extra things like your plushies and accessories! Smiling, you thanked him while you zipped up the zipper of the suitcase.

"No problem dude! Anyways you can go do whatever, fool around in your room or something. I dunno?"

Can you leave?

"Hahaha! HA! You're hilarious!"

Scoffing, you nudged Marco's shoulder, making your way to your 'bedroom'. Closing the door behind you, you took out all of your belongings from the two suitcases. Searching through the pile of stuff you had, you managed to find your phone! Immediately powering it on, you tried calling the authorities. Even trying to turn on your mobile data so that you could contact somebody through your socials. Though expectantly, your phone had blocked all of those options. No service, no nothing. Scrolling through the photo gallery, you looked at the photos you took, all the stupid screenshots you saved. You and him, it's always been the two of you. Of course, sometimes it would be you, him, and.. Matheias and Angela.. You just stare at their faces, feeling nothing as you observe their smiles. You were all so happy back then..

"

Matheias screamed as he lunged himself towards Marco, crying as his sobs echoed the room. Quickly, you grabbed Matheias by the arm, struggling to keep him still as he dragged you along with him. You shouted at Matheias, scolding him while also begging him to calm down as he continued to howl at Marco. Trying your best to keep Matheias away from Marco, you were forced onto the floor as Matheias shoved you away from him. Showing concern, Marco rushed towards you, trying to help you back on your feet.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER- HOW COULD YOU?!"

He screeched, throwing chairs, his face red with anger. Helping you up, Marco cautiously approached Matheias- holding his two palms up as he slowly approached. Calmly, Marco tried to speak to Matheias.

"Come on..Please let's not do this. Not now - just not now, okay? Please, let's just talk this out-"

Panicked, Matheias threw something at Marco, trying to keep more distance.

"LIAR! You fucking CUNT!"

Persistent, Marco was beginning to lose his composure. His voice was now on the verge of shaky tears as he lowered himself to Matheias's height level.

"P-Please..We just- it's her- fucking hell.. Come on Matheias! Really man?"

The more Marco spoke with sincerity, the more Matheias reacted. The more Marco tried to reach out to Matheias, his grieving work buddy.. His best friend..The more terrified you saw Matheias get.

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. You're sick- Stop that. Those aren't real.."

Trying to descalate the situation, you spoke firmly towards Matheias. Enough is enough. You've had it with the accusations about Marco, the delusions and rumors Matheias had accumulated about him. It was tiring seeing Matheias grow bitter against the only person trying to hold everyone together. You were annoyed with how he was reacting. Everyone was mourning, nobody was themselves. You understand that, you can sympthazie with him. You're also hurting. You miss her too. It was just the three of you now. So why, out of all people, he could've chosen to take his anger out, did it have to be Marco? Hysterically, Matheias let out a series of laughs. Rolling his eyes as he pointed a finger at you.

"Oh yeah! Of course you believe him! I think I know why. Trying to get some brownie points aren't you?"

He marched towards you, keeping his finger pointed at you. His voice so loud and angry, it began to ring your ears.

"It's always been like that! Don't you find it fucking unfair how he's always the innocent little sheep in every sitaution?!"

He let out an exasperated breath, his hands aggressively flying everywhere.

"But NOOOOOO! EVERYONE LOVESSS MARCO! The fucking psychopath. Fucking murderer. And I'm the only one that fucking knows!"

Stop it, you beg. You're being delusional, you cried. You held back your tongue, knowing that Matheias wasn't being himself. He always had an issue with his temper, so you knew you had to be patient with him. But you've done that so many times throughout the friendship. It's beginning to run thin. Espically now.

"Why don't you just say it huh? Why don't you just admit it? Tell him. Just fucking-"

Out of instinct, you rushed towards Matheias. Raising your hand as the palm of it harshly came into contact with his face. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you slap him again..And again..And again..Stopping when Marco had to pull you away from him. Holding you in a hug as the hiccups and sniffles begin to escape you.

It was quiet for a while. Your sniffles and his loud, hyperventilating breathes were the only thing left in the room. You remember the look in his eyes, the grief he felt when he saw Marco shake his head dissapointingly. As tension filled the room, suffocating the three of you in an uncomfortable moment- unsure of what was to happen next. Matheias finally spoke up, defeated as he slammed his hand against the table. Memorial cards, photographs, and sympathy letters falling onto the ground.

"..You know what? Fine. Suit yourself. But she's gone, and I know who fucking did it. Sooner or later, you'll know I'm right. And when you do, you'll be wishing that you listened to me."

Without a word, Matheias grabbed a memorial card. Shoving chairs out of his way while he walked out the door. With a final glance, he looked at Marco, and then at you. Scowling, he shut the door violently, leaving you and Marco alone.

"

Your eyes burned as you stared at the ground. Your body feeling limp as you pressed your back against the bedframe for support. Matheias was always the smart fucker of the group..You wonder how he'd react if he knew what was going on. Probably with a snarky remark of how "I told you so!". Funny how the end of their close bond was the start of yours. You want to cry, to get rid of this awful feel that brewed inside of you. But you can't. Maybe it was your body's way of punishing you for being such an awful human being.

Yeah sit with your guilt. Let it simmer with no outlet to release it.

Looking at the screen, you decided to check out your notes. Scrolling through them, you recalled how you always used it as a personal diary rather than a proper agenda tool. Just a pile of insecurities about your crush on a friend who clearly had the hots for someone else. A bunch of useless shit that you bitched about. A series of notes that revealed what type of selfish person you truly were.

Last opened a week ago...?

What?

Your heart sank as you looked at the bottom of each note.

Each note, every single one of them, he read them all. All the words you said to yourself, all the thoughts that you had- he knew about it. You went rigid the more you thought about it. Before..Was he playing with your feelings? He knowingly roped you into this shitfest because he knew he had you wrapped around his little finger. You were the perfect loyal pawn that helped him clean the messes.

Hahaha. Haha. Ha.

That's hilarious, isn't it? You stand up, furious of how stupidly feeble you felt. You pick up the clothes and your belongings and organize them in their rightful place. The couch, when he touched you like that..It was just to keep you on your toes, to keep you obedient. Your 'reward' for being so good.. Pissed, you started to pace around your room. That's it, you want out. You should've left the room when you had the chance. You lay there on the floor, mind numb as you stare into nothingness. That poor girlfriend, whoever they are, hoped they were okay. Why did Marco like them again? How did they even meet? Do you even remember what she looks like? You should know, he's talked about her so many times you've lost count. Charlie? Ashlyn? Abby? No.. none of those sounded right. Does it matter in the end? You should be worrying about yourself.

What if you tied your clothes and made a makeshift rope? Looking down through the window, you grimaced as you thought about it. It's too high. You're on the highest floor of the building. You laughed at another desperate thought that came up. What if you fought Marco yourself? Sure, yeah, if you wanted to get suplexed to death. Right, fight the 6'2 "maniac who goes to the gym every week and could easily pick you up like a ragdoll. There has to be someway.. Who knows how long he really plans on keeping you. It was so easy for him to drop Matheias, someone he knew longer than you - and swiftly wiped Angela off the face of the earth. You're next. Time was ticking. You sat there for a while. Thinking to yourself. Did Marco really care about anything other than himself? Is he capable of emotion? He has some capability, or maybe he plays the illusion that he does fairly well.

Without another thought, you got up, walking towards his room. Knocking the door, you called his name. No answer. You knock again. No answer. You try opening the door to check if he's inside. It's locked. Going to the front door, you began to play with the locks. Loudly banging them against the doorframe, the metalic sounds echoing the entire room. Still no response. Using this opportunity, you scan the entire apartment, looking for anything you could use or take note of. But you couldn’t think of anything. Deciding to go back to your room, you try to get some shut eye. Changing into some nightwear to get comfortable.

Eventually, you were able to find yourself melting into the matress. Dreaming about what could've been, you were sound asleep. You wished you could've stayed like that forever. Blissful and full of rest. However, it was short-lived as you felt yourself being lifted up. Groggily, you were brought up onto your knees. Slowly, you were propped up at a certain position while a warm breath fanned against the back of your neck. Your back was pressed against his chest, legs spread apart, and hands on both sides of your thighs. Fully awake and aware, you froze as you felt his hands play with your chest - barely grazing at your nipples. Alert, you tried to turn your body away from his wandering hands. Out of protest against your reaction, Marco hushed you as he pushed you back to the position.

"Ah ah ah. Nono. Stay put for me okay? Trust me"

It felt so foreign with the way he spoke to you with such geniune softness. You couldn't help but lean further against his body as he began to travel his hands further down your lower half.

"You've been so good, such a good friend to me..I've never really thanked you properly, so I'll do it now..Yeah?"

His hands now grabbing onto the waistband of your pajama pants, you went paralyzed. Why was he doing this?

"You deserve it. That's why.. Do you not like this?"

What about her? Doesn't he hate you for standing in the way?

"Just answer my question. Do you like this or not?"

You were starting to get on his nerves. So quietly, you meekly squeaked for him to continue. Even though you knew you should've denied his offer and advances, you still couldn't help but fall into him. So, lifting your hips up, you allowed him to pull your pants down.

"I just want to make it up to you, that's all..You'd enjoy something like this afterall.."

Rubbing all the right places, going at that perfect rhythmic pace, focusing on your body movements. He made sure to treat you carefully, leaving gentle kisses along your neck as he watched your chest rise up and down. Back and fourth, he left your mind in a daze as he whispered those sweet praises into your ears.

"Finally got what you wanted, huh? How long have you been thinking of this for? Hah.. And don't lie to me, I know everything.."

You didn't answer him as you focused on chasing your release. Your hands pathetically gripping onto his arms while you whined as his hands continued to play and stroke at your sex.

"It's only fair. I realised if you hadn't helped me, I would've been so lost..So good job. You did so well for me. You earned this"

Twisting and brewing, you felt the heat inside you threaten to spill as he changed his pace. His hands now trying to chass the pleasure out of you while you quivered underneath him. You were close, so close to tipping over the edge.

"I love you"

With those words that you so desperately fantasized about for years, you felt the heat in your body spread. Milking out your orgasm, Marco continued at the same rhythm, pulling his hand away after he felt you try to shove him off. Getting off the bed as he left you there to calm down, he wiped his hands dry. Smirking at you as if he had just pulled the world's most amazing prank.

"I did good didn't I?"

....What the fuck was that? Why in the hell did you say yes? Why the fuck did he- Looking at him in confusion, you pulled up your pants. Giving him a look that demanded an answer.

"Okayy fine. I just felt like it. Plus it's fun seeing you melt like puddy!"

Huh? You felt dumbfounded as he kept walking around the dark room. The moonlight providing the only source of light to the bedroom.

"It's funny..You like me. I've known that for a while..Even before the notes. You were never really a good liar."

He let out a soft series of chuckles. Staring at you with a pitiful look, showing an expression of fake sympathy.

"I don't love you, and I never will. Not even if you beg and try. "

He leaned close to your face, his hands caressing your cheek.

"I only said it to get your rocks off. And clearly..It worked~"

Well fucking ouch..A pang went through your chest as Marco moved away from you. Disregarding your feelings he kept going, the softness and genuie warmth you felt earlier, disintegrated into nothingness. Like a flip switched inside him, he was back to his comedic cold personality.

"Ohh hun..Please don't be dissapointed. I wasn't lying when I said you deserved every second of that moment.."

Circling the room, he continued to monolog casually.

"Afterall for being such an obedient dog staying put in the room..You deserved a little treat!"

Patting your head to further squeeze out the feelings in your heart, Marco left the room.

"I'll see you tommorow okay? Dream about me~"

Alone by yourself again as you laid your body on the bed. You curled yourself into a ball, grabbing all the blankets, hugging them for some comfort. His words replayed in your head, trying to process what just happened. He was fucking with you. But why? Why like that? Staring up at the ceiling with your back on the bed, you muttered a few words while you felt the shame creep up on you.

What an asshole.

_____________________________

.

.

.

Part 3 coming soon!

You looked at her in horror as she sat there on the chair, tied up and gagged. Her face was stained with fresh tears as she struggled against her restraints. Oh god, did things not go well with her and Marco? Why was she here? You tried calming her down as she thrashed around, threatening to tip over the chair.

.

.

.

.

_____________________________

[iznsfw]

above the law, (under you)

TWICE's Chou Tzuyu x Male Reader Smut

4,629 words

Categories | lawyer!Tzuyu x criminal!you, thighjob, blowjob

Quick one for TWICE's maknae. Hope you like it.

The thing about law is that it's actually quite flexible. Forget what your law professors taught you and all those fines the government threatens. If you manage to lie with just a bit of space for truth to distort your falsehoods into, you can get out of anything easily. That's certain, actually, no matter what consequences are inscribed into whatever bible juries and judges have. Maybe you'd only have to spend a few days in jail, probably narrowly avoid a death sentence. 

At least, that's how it works when you've got a good lawyer. 

Oh, yeah, that's what Tzuyu is for. Lucky you.

"So you understand," she says, spreading your files on the desk like it were butter across toast (don't mind the choice of comparison; your stomach is growling), "that it gets suspicious."

Actually, you don't. "Do elaborate."

Tzuyu sighs. She drags a hand along her golden hair. Normally, colored hair in the courtroom would be looked down on, but she's reached that kind of status that it doesn't matter what she does or who she represents—whether she wins or loses the trial for you, she's Chou Tzuyu, and everyone still gives her the deserved respect. 

But with you, the situation is more dangerous. It's a hit or miss with you, and now, the two of you are getting closer and closer to missing.

"You've been in and out of juvie since you were in middle school," she says, one pinky up to count the factors. Another as she goes on, "And you haven't stopped robbery and physical assault since then. You raged in the divorce court, too, so trust me: when it comes to custody of your kid, it doesn't get easier."

Three fingers. Three's the charm, right?

"Well," you curl down the sides of your mouth and raise your hands, "obviously."

Again, you're lucky to have Tzuyu. She's the only one who's paid enough to put up with your bullshit. She's the only one who can get you out of said bullshit. If you said that to anybody else, they'd kick you out, and you know enough already about being excluded and rejected.

That's not to say you feel sorry for yourself, just to be clear. You're too used to this rowdy lifestyle that your own actions don't humiliate you. Neither does the fact that you haven't matured from the age of sixteen. 

In that case, you do feel sorry for Tzuyu, though. She's an intelligent and beautiful young woman. She's only going forward from here on out, but you'll always hang onto the hem of her dress pants like a tail. You're a mistake that no Mongol pencil top can erase, and that's been sealed into her mind long after she accepted to represent you. 

She's the one getting paid anyway. No need to muck over it.

"Did you do it, though?" Tzuyu asks. 

"Do what?"

"Did you beat up your ex-wife's husband in front of her?" 

Honesty is a virtue that only your lawyer is deserving of. So, "Yeah."

Tzuyu pinches her nose. "And the drunk texts?"

"Uh huh."

"The lamb blood on the yard?" 

"All me, baby," you answer. 

You're a bit regretful, to be honest. Not for the fucked up shit you did to coax your ex-wife into getting back with you, but with how you failed to use your own blood to write out "YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MINE, DAHYUN!" in front of her house. But you've already crossed one too many lines.

"You sound proud," Tzuyu notes. "Don't you realize how this can influence the trial?"

Do you? Probably, but you've gone to court so many times, against so many people, that it's become like a second home. The Corinthian columns looming over you don't scare you anymore. Neither do the judge and jury.

Maybe the reason you keep fucking shit up is the need for something to feel?

You haven't felt anything in a long time besides anger. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's why you keep doing what you do despite knowing it can ruin your few good relationships with the few good people who deal with you.

"You can get me out of this alright, Tzuyu," you say. Prop your feet on the opposite plush seat that stands at the front of her desk. "Just lie—you know, it's your job."

"I'm a lawyer, not a magician," Tzuyu says, speaking through her grinding teeth. "I'm not another foolproof way to buy yourself out of consequences."

"That's nice. Got that comeback off searching 'badass lawyer quotes'?"

Tzuyu stares at you. She's really too cute to be in a courtroom, but the way her full lips are set and her eyes glare through your soul make you remember that she's up there for a reason. All these certificates and awards placed on her wall and bookshelves aren't out of nothing. She deserves respect from you because she's still your lawyer, she's still your only way out of going to prison.

"You just… don't care, huh," Tzuyu remarks. "Everything about this is just one huge joke to you."

Her tone isn't far from her usual formal one, but it's mixed with realization, too. She realizes that you'll always be like this. It's not your job or your kids or work—it's you. It's all on you.

"But really," she continues, with a small, bitter laugh, "the funny thing is I actually held out hope for you."

She did? 

You've been waiting a lifetime to feel something that isn't rage. You're surprised to find out that it would happen, and the thing would be guilt.

"I—I thought that if I did everything I could for you," she says, her fists curling tighter to the beat of every syllable, "for you to get away scot-free, you'd actually put some sense in yourself." She smiles sarcastically. "But I was stupid to think that, wasn't I?" 

Everyone's been disappointed in you one way or another. It's no lie that your parents are. There's also a reason why your siblings won't talk to you anymore. But the disappointment riding off Tzuyu's words hurt unexpectedly. It breaks you. 

It also, somehow, angers you. 

"Get out of my office." She points to the door. "I'm done with you."

"No, you're fucking not," you reply. 

Tzuyu's accustomed to your banter and attitude, but that actually stops her in her tracks. She looks at you with disbelief.

Your smile quakes with anger. "We're not done until I say so, Tzuyu."

"That doesn't work on me."

"Come on, let's face it, attorney," you say, stressing the title with false respect. Set your hands on the desk scattered with files and folders. "You like me."

Tzuyu rolls her eyes. "Oh, please, spare me the—"

"No." 

Your steps trace a marble path to the back of her desk, to the place that should be off-limits to you. You never raped or anything, but you remain a criminal, and she remains a lawyer who has to set boundaries. 

However, all boundaries are crossed when you've got her backed up to the edge of her desk, when her pretty face is centimeters away, and your hands are itching to tear the high fashion uniform off her slender body.

It's the first time you've ever seen Chou Tzuyu scared. Her face is set to a poker expression in the courtroom and out of it, but seeing her parted lips and wide doe eyes ignite your emotions. It's new, it's different, and you love it more than you should.

"Come on, Tzuyu," you press, tilting your head to the side. "You know why you want to keep defending me after all the fuckery I did."

"And what can that be?" Tzuyu asks. Her brows are raised.

Another question, you see. This girl really should stop inquiring about things she knows well the answer to, but, graciously, you say it out loud for her. You're a good guy like that. "Didn't I say it already? You like me. Admit it: you're tired of defending guys who at best stole from Walmart. You want the real horror. You want me."

It's all delusions to grope for the upper hand, but you see Tzuyu's eyes. You can read them well from all the time you've unwillingly(?) spent together, you know that her rare expression of vulnerability means something:

You've caught her.

"Oh." Smile. Your rambling holds some truth after all. "So I'm right. Of course you like me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Tzuyu snaps. She struggles to keep eye contact with you. 

"No, no." Guide her face to meet your gaze. "You want some relief. It's not easy being a lawyer, definitely not easier to fall for a psychopath client. But it just happens. You can't control it."

She swallows, looks down, and shakes her head. That's something she's humble enough to admit. "No…" 

"Of course. I can give you what you want, you know."

"I don't want anything from you," says Tzuyu. Her eyes fire an unspoken word of caution to you. "You don't know what you're trying to do."

"For a lawyer," you chuckle, "you're a terrible liar. I thought that was the whole thing with you people."

"I told you to leave already." 

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," you say, sliding your hands down to her tiny thing of a waist, "until you tell me what you actually feel."

You can feel Tzuyu's breaths accent the rises and rests of her tight midriff. She's contemplating this over, but she knows that she's grown fond of you. You know this, too. Like you said, there's a reason for her staying with you. 

You have to admit you've grown fond of seeing her, too. Her face is more than easy on the eyes. Hearing her as well is an everyday delight; her soft voice is melodious, even when she's describing your crimes. 

So, what's there to say? 

"It's not right," Tzuyu says. The shakes of her head are too repetitive to be sincere. "I can't be biased towards you. I… I have to be professional."

"It's just you and me, sweet," you quip. Step closer so that her body's flush against your form and her gaze can go nowhere. "Live a little. Who cares if it's wrong?"

"My career—" she tries.

"Tzuyu. Come on. Fuck the convict you want so badly. I put you through enough already."

Understanding passes through her eyes, mingled with hesitation and a sprinkle of fear. She wonders, as she peers at your face from a taller height, how you knew about the whole crush ordeal. Was she too obvious? Flirty? Patient? It can be one or the other, and she'd still have to dial it down.

But her heart skips several beats that her words come unrehearsed. Your hands at her waist, so close yet so far to where she needs them to be, trigger her needs. 

So, there it is: she needs you. She has to accept that.

"O-okay," Tzuyu finally agrees. 

"There you are. You finally came around."

"Just shut up and fuck me."

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" Your shameless kisses end up on her neck and collarbone that peek through the ends of her blazer and the neckline of her innerwear. "I know you thought about it, Tzuyu. How I'd bend you over on this desk, fuck your brains out, make you cum more times than you can count."

As you pull the blazer from her body, Tzuyu hisses, "Don't get too happy, dickhead."

How unprofessional of her. But you have to admit it feels powerful to be able to extract the most unladylike of words from a woman who'd never dare utter them. And you're just getting started—she's only sitting on the edge of her desk, and not even filled with your cock yet. 

Your fingers aren't idle. They appreciate her tall curves and the fullness of her thighs. They even slip under that pencil skirt to feel around for her center. 

Of course, you find it. You find it under a layer of flimsy shorts and panties. Tease her clit; have her legs join in attempts to undergo the stimulation. 

And then—

"Oh my god," she whines. Tzuyu purses her lips. Curls her fingers at the cliff of the desk. "Feels so good."

"I know it does," says you. "Why don't you return the favor? Jerk off my cock with those pretty hands?"

Her posture becomes too straight to be proper as you press your fingers at her sensitive pink walls. "I've done too much for you. Y-you don't deserve any more favors."

That's fair. She's still a smart girl, even when she's soaking your fingers. 

Can she be a good girl? To be a good girl or not to be—that is the question.

"You're right. My cock deserves to be inside you, not just in your hand."

The faster pace has Tzuyu's legs jerking. "Fuck you."

Chuckle. "You are."

Maybe you don't need a handjob as a warm-up. Your cock already erects by itself watching Tzuyu react and moan to your digits pumping in and out of her. Her beautiful arms, free from the blazer, struggle and strain to stay upwards with how quick you're fingerfucking her. Her unkempt whines are so unlike her that there's complete pride inside of you, an arrogance, even, that's birthed from the fact that you make her like this. You're so fucked up that it turns her on when it shouldn't, and now that you're fucking her, the immorality of everything gets her wet. 

"P-please," she says. Her doe eyes are watery with need. 

She's never said that outside of the courtroom, where she says that only for formality's sake. But here she is, anyway, begging you for something she'll have to spell out if she doesn't want you to go crazy and fuck her in every corner of her office. 

Maybe that's what you'd do anyway.

"What is it, Tzuyu?" you ask. Your fingers strain while the heel of your hand hits and rubs her clit. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need."

"Please," again, "faster. Oh my god, that's all I ever want, please go faster."

No more do her legs close. Rather, they part. They welcome your thrusts and rubs. She's completely allowing you to fuck her, despite how wrong it is and how it can screw up your future trials. Bias this and bias that are things she doesn't care about anymore. All she knows is that her nipples ache to be pinched, and her pussy awaits more of your thrusts because she's close. So close that she could taste euphoria already.

"Should I go rougher, hm?"

"Please, fffuck, I don't know." As you squeeze one of her handful-sized breasts, she bites her lip hard. "Just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, make me c-cum—"

When Tzuyu orgasms, it's messy yet quiet. Her formality shows up even in sex. Her moans are tight and so is her pussy as it clenches down on your fulfilling digits, and you have to perk your ears up to hear her sounds of pleasure. She's still a quiet girl, barely talkative (though you've managed to pull a few pleas out of her already), and you're completely trying to change that with your pumps.

Your lips create a purple bruise on her neck. Tzuyu sighs and gasps helplessly. She's wetting your fingers like a flood, and you keep provoking the natural yet woman-made disaster; you drag your fingers at her velvety, weak spots and venture deeper. 

You don't have to ask her if it was good. She's panting heavily, and sucks on the soaked fingers you've led to her face to calm herself down. Watching her pink lips work away at your hand, as if she were suckling something completely different, makes you more turned on. Her warm wet mouth deserves to be somewhere else rather than just your pointer and middle.

"Now that wasn't so bad," you say. Draw them out of her mouth. "You didn't leave any for me to taste. How selfish."

"You still could." Tzuyu points to her mouth. 

It's clear that she's wanted you to kiss her forever. When your lips press against her mouth, she immediately slips her tongue inside. You return the favor, but also to have her own self-made taste of love. 

As expected, she's fucking delicious. 

You hold her head in place as the two of you kiss for seconds that felt like hours. After, you're breathless.

"You're a good kisser," she comments. 

"You want me to tell you what else is good?" 

"Oh, please. Show, not tell." 

Your belt's off and soon, your trousers are as well. Tzuyu's gazing at your hard cock with admiration. It just boosts your pride and arrogance—you can never tell the difference between the two when they mix and match with each other so often.

"No one told me criminals had big dicks," says Tzuyu. She skates her hand on your cock, stroking it softly. Her eyes have left it and instead seal on your faltering gaze. 

"You learn something new everyday." Try not to make your shuddering breaths obvious when she starts jerking you off. "You like?"

"I think… I think I want to suck it."

"Go ahead. No one's stopping you."

"There're a lot of people stopping me," she informs you. "If they find out I'm fucking a client, then what?"

She doesn't live up to her words of concern because she hops off the table cleanly and kneels anyway. Her small face looks even tinier next to your cock. And you realize now how her mouth is miniscule too after she wraps her lips around your cockhead. 

You shiver. 

Tzuyu's staring again. 

This time, her large eyes are directed up at you. She doesn't have to focus on your dick when her mouth is doing it for her. With each harsh swipe of her tongue on your tip and the drawing of her mouth closer to the base, your cock grows wetter with her drool and precum. 

"Your mouth is amazing, Tzuyu," you say. You're not afraid to admit that.

She responds to you not with words, but with more suckling. She closes her lips around your base then slowly brings her mouth up. She repeats this cycle of pleasure until your whole rod is coated with her. When she feels you throb in her orifice, she giggles—what's more satisfying than seeing the guy who put her through hell become weak?

You're in a daze of your own, too. As much as you like seeing Tzuyu dominate the court with her steady voice and no-nonsense look, she looks so much better when she's on her knees. When her hands wrap your hips to thrust her head forward and force your length down her tight throat. When the usually serious look in her eyes fades into obscurity and is replaced with an almost innocent look that says "come on, use me, fuck my mouth."

That's exactly what you do anyway. You don't need her prodding to fuck her pretty face.

Tzuyu's hums vibrate on your sensitive flesh. The back of your cock slides deliciously on her tongue and almost all of your rod slides down her throat. It bulges; you can tell even without looking down. She's a slim girl after all. It's easy to fuck and fold and use her. This situation isn't any different.

"Yeah, that's it," you say, grinning. "Take my cock, Tzuyu. Take it like a good girl."

Her ears burn. Her thighs squirm together, and that's how you find out that she might like being called a good girl more than you'd think. Stroking her hair that looks like it was personally woven with real gold has her whining. You can't believe the tough lawyer has a submissive side, too. 

Has she done this before? She seems to be taking the thrusts to the back of her throat well. Perhaps she simply enjoys this. You'll never know.

"I'm gonna cum, Tzuyu," you announce. "You better swallow it all like the slut you are."

Her cheeks hollow as your cum fills her mouth. Her lips remain sealed on your tip so the flow of your semen ends up nowhere but inside her. 

After you pull out, you realize then that you've just fucked your lawyer's face. It's like everything was a lucid dream that eventually blended into reality, because there's Tzuyu, still kneeling and gulping down your cum, and your cock out in the open between your bare legs. There are lines you've crossed before, but you never thought you'd do the same to the boundary that's been set between you and Tzuyu. 

Where's the rage you felt earlier? Why does arousal take its place?

"I'm not a slut, by the way," says Tzuyu airily. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm not your good girl either."

"Oh, alright. Does that mean you won't let me fuck you?"

"Jerk," she spits. "Your cock isn't even that big."

"I guess I should leave then. You were a good fuck, Tzuyu." 

Turn your heel with faux intention to exit, like she's told you to do earlier, but you're pulled towards her again. She tugs your wrist and pulls you to herself, her ass snug against the edge of the table and you pressed against her slim frame.

Okay, so—

"I fucking hate you." Tzuyu tears the buttons off your shirt with a clean rip, and kisses your chest. Your neck. Grabs your waist to ensure that you're going nowhere. " I hate that you're so fucking annoying. I hate that I can't spend all day fucking myself on your huge cock."

"Did you just say I had a huge cock?" 

"Like I said," Tzuyu snarls, "shut up."

Whatever snarky response you could have come up with on the spot is lost into an embarrassingly loud moan. She's forced your still sensitive cock inside her, and now her hips are dancing forward and back. It's a dance of death with how it bears its weight on your mind and girth. 

"Thought I told you to be quiet," she says smugly.

Her skirt has ridden up her waist. You take advantage of this to get a feel for her thighs. They're slim yet round at the same time, creating the perfect balance that fits your squeezing hands. Tug on them to pull her closer. Your remaining inches make it past her folds, and Tzuyu moans in delight.

"And I thought you didn't like me," you say. But it's difficult to be cocky when her tight little pussy is just that good, squeezing you as if determined to drain your might and taking you good and well. 

Tzuyu scoots her wide hips side to side, arms sedentary on the sides of the table as she rests down on it, and bites her lip. Intentional or not, it's too fucking sexy. "Things change."

So, that's how it works out: your lawyer on the flat of her desk, above scattered piles of papers describing your crimes and issuing your statements, with her legs spread around your midriff and receiving your cock as a traveller in the desert would receive water. She's desperate, is what you're saying—her gasps are timed to the beat of your thrusts, and she's accompanying it with soft curses. This whole sex thing could be a song, you see. Tzuyu can play the vocals, and her cleavage that bounces behind her vest could be looped and made into a matching music video. It's just so perfect.

"So good, you're so good," she sighs, her mind addled with thoughts of you ruining her insides and, probably, fill her up with semen. "Fuck me harder. Touch me. Use me, my god, just fuck me."

You pull up her vest to devour her breasts. The brown nipples end up in your mouth, suckled on and chewed, while the softness of her small tits are relished with squeezes. Tzuyu whimpers quietly, volume hushed down as it always is with her. Although her quiet whines turn you on, it's the will inside you to have the silent lawyer screaming that propels your thrusts. Drives them with a purpose that's so specific your hips could have a mind of their own. 

Dragging her vest off her torso is how you see that your cock is bulging through her tight midriff. The lines of her abs hide not your cock forcing yourself through her hole. Tzuyu notices it, too, and you feel her become wetter underneath you, because she loves it. She loves how wrong this is, how she's letting a person she shouldn't even be acquaintances with outside of her career use her like a doll.

"P-please," she says (for the millionth time, yes, but you'll never grow tired of hearing it.)

"Should I go harder?" Do exactly that, rutting her against the table, even without her answer. "Rub this little thing here?"

Tzuyu cries out. There's a completed mission—you've finally forced her to scream, and it's all thanks to your thumb toying with her clit.

"Oh my god!" she yelps. She looks at you with eyes filled with shock at how good it feels. "Oh my god, yes, keep doing that! It feels so—fuck!"

"Keep screaming like that and I'll make you cum. Do you want to cum, Tzuyu?"

She nods dumbly. "Yes, make me cum. M-make me cum around that stupid big dick, I love it so much, please!"

You're reaching places inside her that her own fingers couldn't embark to. The bulge on her stomach goes farther, and you think of how you're rearranging her guts so deliciously, how she's pounding at the table in frustration and pleasure and screaming, and how you can give her bliss with just a few more pumps.

Your thrusts hold purpose—they're driven by Tzuyu's boobs lifting with the creaks of her desk, the squeeze of her pussy as it swallows you whole, the helpless look on her face. She's so beautiful, really, and you're glad to be able to—

"Gonna make me cum!" she wails. "Gonna make me cum, gonna make me cum, don't fucking stop!"

Tzuyu's pleasure reaches an all-time high. She clenches as hard as her muscles can bear and screams. Her throat must be sore because of that, so you don't forget to kiss all over it as you extract a violent orgasm from her with rough, untimed pumps. 

She's shivering, eyes unfocused. She's rambling senseless words that don't quite give clues to what they should be comprehended as.

That's exactly what you want.

You pull out. "I want to fuck your thighs." Show so after that: slip your dick in between her soft, supple skin, and add, "Gonna explode on that fucking stomach."

"W-why not inside me?" whines Tzuyu. She closes her eyes as your cock unintentionally brushes over her folds and prods at her bundle of nerves.

"You're already fighting to give me custody of my kid," you chuckle. "What makes you think I want another?"

Tzuyu manages a laugh. You're too laser-focused on fucking her thighs though to appreciate her first love beauty when she smiles, since you're as close as you can be. With the soft flesh holding your length captive as you pray for your soul not to be by the eyes of justice, you have no choice but to do what you said: cum on her tight midriff.

White above tan skin is a beautiful color on your lawyer.

"You're… you're a little evil, you know that?" Tzuyu makes out. She glances at the puddle of cum on her rising stomach with fascination.

"Oh, love." Lean down to kiss her, with your arm pillaring the space on the table not occupied with paperwork. "You're just now figuring that out?"

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

follower! bishops with an s/o that was apart of their cult but now runs a tea shop in the lambs cult?

Narinder

"Huh, so this is how my consort wastes the immortal life I've given them...by running a cutesy little tea shop in the cult of my traitorous vessel.."

"Good to see you, darling. Care for some chamomile tea?"

"....yes, I suppose I could indulge in some."

Narinder never thought this is what you've been up to after all this time: sitting in a cozy tent and selling specialty teas to followers who spent their hard-earned coin on refreshing drinks.

He thought you'd use your immortality necklace as a means of travelling the world and spreading his word after he was banished.

But nope. You settled down here with goals to live a comfortable life.

Although you didn't let him forget his cruelty to the other followers and Lamb..

"You wouldn't make me pay, would you?"

"I should charge you double...considering you threatened to kill all of us and Lamb once they've done your bidding." You reminded him, causing him to tense up.

"..I would have spared you-"

"Of course you say that now."

"S/o, please..I'm...."

"You're.....?"

"...I'm sorry." He finally relents.

".....you'll get this one for free, and maybe next time too if you show these followers more kindness." You kiss him on the cheek, passing a cup of tea into his paws.

He acts all huffy about being humbled by you, but from there on he's a little bit nicer to the other followers.

Leshy

You ran a small tea shop back in Darkwood. There was no ingredient that didn't make the perfect tea: peppermint, camelia, citrus..you name it.

After Leshy went blind, he got accustomed to every kind of smell from your shop. So when he stopped by, he always knew what you were brewing and would request some.

Of course, how could you deny him? Your beloved deserved a nice and calming drink in the chaos of his realm.

Unfortunately some of his fanatics obsessed with destruction began trashing your shop while you were out on a supply run.

You tried chasing them away, but got seriously wounded and had to flee for your life. Soon afterwards, Lamb found you and took you to their cult.

Leshy believed you to be dead.

So imagine his shock when he's indoctrinated and smells those familiar teas, immediately rushing to the source and discovering you're here and alive.

"S/o!! Where have you gone?! I thought I had lost you forever!!"

"It's okay, Leshy. I had to run away, but Lamb found me and saved my life. What ever happened to those raiders, by the way?"

"...I had them hung for your murder."

"....oh. Well, they're better off as bird food anyways. Come and sit, dear. I had to start back at square one, but I have every kind of tea flavor you love."

"Yes, of course....it's so good to hear your voice again, s/o."

"Likewise, Lesh."

Heket

Back in Anura, your tea shop helped her keep followers in line..specifically dissenters.

You used to slip mushrooms into teas and offer it as a "gift" to those who opposed her ruling.

And they'd do anything you wanted. Usually you left that to Heket, but as her consort you're allowed some liberties with brainwashed followers.

While she would make them eat dung or fast for the day, you'd tell them to go out into the world and advertise your tea shop to bring more people into the Anurian cult.

Or you'd make them do stupid things just for laughs.

When you were taken to Lamb's cult, Heket fully believed you were "stolen" and demanded your return, lest she starved their entire cult.

Of course, they don't. And she's killed, revived, defeated, and indoctrinated before she finally gets to see you again, promising they won't separate you anymore.

Obviously she's starving, but she beelines for you instead of the kitchen, wanting to see your face and make sure you were alright.

"Oh, my dearest Heket! How are you?"

"....hungry.....come with..."

You pout at her inability to talk for too long, though you join her for dinner, which she has with tea.

While it doesn't soothe any part of her severed vocal cords, it does help her calm down a lot.

Her only disappointment is that Lamb banned you from selling shroom-laced tea to their followers.

They weren't any fun.

Kallamar

Back in Anchordeep, you ran a small tea shop with drinks that could cure minor ailments, such as the common cold.

However, it often felt like Kallamar owned the shop instead.

You were only allowed to use specific ingredients and he told you to refuse any followers cursed with a sickness that he inflicted as punishment (indicated by a glowing green mark on their forehead).

You felt guilty every time you turned one away, but you had to listen to him..lest he shutdown your business.

It was a pain, and you couldn't take it anymore as you were losing more and more coin.

So when Lamb stopped by, you begged them to take you away from here.

Kallamar wasn't happy about that, putting all his focus into hindering Lamb's progress as he thinks they took you away.

Only when he becomes indoctrinated does he realize how wrong he was...

You had some rather venomous words for him. Words that you've been afraid to speak out loud when he was a godlike bishop.

Now you didn't have to hold back.

"I wanted Lamb to take me away, Kall. You were so controlling...trying to run my shop for me and make me refuse followers whose only crime was catching you on a bad day. You preached about how terrifying the Red Crown was, but honestly I was more afraid of you. I should refuse to serve you any of my healing teas so you know exactly how they felt."

He's 0.01 seconds away from having a breakdown, knowing you're absolutely right. You probably didn't love him anymore-

"...but I don't like watching others suffer when I know I can help them, even if they are scum. And part of me..still loves you. So if you wanna start over, we can. But only if you help me run this shop and listen to me."

"O-Of course! I'd love to assist you!" Kallamar managed to hold back the tears on this one, willing make up for how terrible he's been to you.

He lets you run the show, his only suggestion being that you adorned the shop's entrance with crystals to make it prettier (an idea that you accepted right away, showing you forgave him).

Shamura

They (quite literally) drop by your tea shop a lot, often surprising you.

But you enjoyed their company.

While having a drink, they'd chat with you about the latest knowledge they've discovered, some facts about war and ancient methods of combat, and/or how their day with their siblings went.

They could go on for hours, and you loved hearing it all.

They ensured your shop was well-protected, giving you some scorpions who acted like guard dogs.

When their brain got damaged by Narinder, they often forgot about your shop and stopped visiting as much.

You knew it wasn't their fault. But seeing them slowly start to neglect your feelings to yearn for their traitorous brother 24/7 hurt a lot. He's all they ever talked about anymore whenever they did remember to see you.

Eventually you angrily muttered how much you hated him...which was a huge mistake, as Shamura looked at you with the coldest eyes.

And commanded the scorpions to kill you.

You had to run away and were eventually saved by the Lamb.

With nothing but a small satchel of spare ingredients and tea bags with you, you started a new life in their cult, trying to accept that Shamura was too far gone to be helped.

Yet after they were indoctrinated, they immediately asked where you were and cried as you approached the pillory imprisoning them, believing you had been killed.

You realized they finally remembered you, and you wiped away their tears, offering them their favorite tea to jog their memories.

And at last...everything was alright again.

[dnphobe]

oh damn we're sharing our theories on the events of dnpcrafts before dnpcrafts? okay.

– dan and phil are the same. they have been ostracised, likely their whole lives, for being weird, unusual, unnerving, (queer, both figuratively and literally)

– phil found a belief system, and threw himself into it as his way to cope. to phil, that system is everything.

- later, phil finds dan, or dan finds phil, which way round it happens doesn't matter. they both find someone they can finally share themselves with, but for phil dan is also the perfect person to share his belief system with. he's perfect for the ritual, precisely because phil loves him, and if phil loves him then He will love him.

- phil doesn't share it all, at first. he loves dan, he needs him, he doesn't want to scare him away. it starts slow, just...making a few crafts. nothing to see here.

- and He does love dan. He starts speaking to dan through these crafts. Dan is scared, at first...but phil explains. he explains his devotion. he explains how He is a friend saviour for people like them. And dan...dan is already devoted, to phil, so of course he listens. of course he is immediately on board with what phil says, just as rapturous and captivated by the idea as phil, because this is something he can DO for phil, something to bring them even closer.

- dan's an innocent lamb to the slaughter, but he goes willingly. he was alone and now he's in love and loved and can be part of something bigger. phil takes him there willingly, thinking he's doing right, he's saving dan like he himself was saved (and, to some degree, this may be true), and even if the lamb gets a little bloody he's the one who will die.

- so they work towards the summoning. they do it. and it goes mostly right but something goes wrong too, leading to them being discovered and shut down. No one ever wants them to be who they are. they're used to that. they don't give up, won't, they've always been told they're wrong, at this point it's only incentive...as long as they still have eachother, they can do anything.

[cherrywrecked]

guilty — k. chaewon x p. sooyoung

cw: cheating. sexual coercion. chaewon calling joy eonnie. dni if uncomfortable with such themes.

crossposted on ao3; promoted on twitter.

chaewon had always been a fan of red velvet, even more so ever since she got to debut with sakura who, despite their busy schedule, had been following the group in particular. it was definitely a surprise when she got a message from one of the group's member, joy.

oh my god, is this real? chaewon thought to herself as she read the message from her senior, telling her she had asked their manager to get chaewon's personal number and that she wanted to get to know the girl better as she found chaewon interesting. the younger girl didn't think much of it, as she was over the moon, happy that their senior idol has recognized her.

chaewon quickly replied, thanking the girl for taking the time to personally get to know her and the next thing she know, she was on her way to meet up with joy late at night.

"you're here." joy said smiling at chaewon as the younger bowed at her. "sunbae-nim, thank you for inviting me." chaewon timidly said as she took a sit in front of joy. the two of them enjoyed their time talking about almost anything over wine without even realizing the time.

"oh no, it's gotten a bit late. do you have any schedules tomorrow—today, i mean." joy worriedly asked and chaewon completely dismisses that by replying no and explaining that they were on a three day break after their promotions. "really? that sounds nice, i'm on a break too. do you want to sleep over?" thrilled, chaewon didn't think twice but to agree, not knowing what's in store for her.

it was pas two am when they've arrived at joy's apartment. "feel comfortable, chaewon-ah. i'll get you a pair of pajamas so you can wash up, mhm?" joy said to which chaewon nodded and started to look around the living room of the apartment. it was spacious, clean, and the whole vibe is what you would of expected of park sooyoung. "here, pretty. there's a bathroom at the end of the hallway, get cozy, i'll wait here." and chaewon did as she was told. although there was one, tiny problem— she's unprepared and didn't have panties to wear underneath the satin short pj's her new unnie has given her.

it was okay, chaewon thought. it's not like it should be a big deal. both of them were girls and hell, joy was in a relationship, isn't she? they're just friends. when chaewon got out of the bathroom with fresh clothes, joy was in a similar pair of pj's, except it was in red while chaewon's was in pink. "i had to match yours!" joy giggled as she pat the space next to her on the couch, opening a can of beer for chaewon to take.

"unnie, i really didn't think i'd be friends with you." chaewon says earning a giggle from the older. "yeah? but i've always wanted to be your friend! i thought your group reminded me of ours when we were younger. are any of your members dating?" the younger profusely shook her head denying as her cheeks blushed, to which joy teased her for. "mhm? fucking, then?" a deeper shade of red flushed chaewon's cheeks. "unnie! it's not like... it's not like that." still blushing, chaewon's voice was a bit squeakier now. joy rested her back, intrigued.

"yeah? how is it, then? i mean, nothing wrong with fucking around, right?" the older nonchalantly took a sip of her beer whilst the younger looked at her like a curious lamb, cheeks red from blushing. "i... i guess? i-i've never..." chaewon's voice was soft and quiet but it was loud enough to catch joy's attention. the older briefly raising a brow at the remark and chaewon didn't fail to catch that. shy, she could only down the remaining of her beer. "you're a virgin?" the younger could only nod timidly, head dipped down. this was joy's queue to do what she had wanted.

"but have you ever thought of doing it, with, i don't know, somebody? a peer?" joy asked with so much fascination, as if she was genuinely curious and it made chaewon sigh. i mean, she's my senior, right? i'm sure she's just... curious. "mhm..." she shook her head, biting on her lower lip. "i... tried doing it alone but it doesn't feel good." chaewon couldn't even finish her sentence without squeaking, embarrassment washing over her. she couldn't help but hide her face in her palms, earning a low chuckle from joy who took the liberty to scoot closer, holding the younger in her arm while the other caressed her legs.

"oh, sweetheart. it doesn't feel good at first. i used to not feel good too," joy cooed, "not until irene unnie helped me." shocked, chaewon finally looked at joy, eyes as wide as doe; she looks so innocent, joy thought.

"irene...sunbaenim did?" joy nodded, all smiley. but didn't joy unnie have a partner? "i know what you're thinking. irene unnie does it best." chaewon looked down to see joy's hand on her inner thigh, caressing the softness of her skin which made her shudder. looking up at the older, she mumbled as she called out for joy's name. "u-unnie?"

"you know, chaewon, it's not even hard to feel good. you just have to feel appreciated with someone." joy's voice was soft, dotting onto chaewon. "appreciated the same way as i do you." joy whispered against chaewon's ears, lips touching her lobe. "u-unnie, w-we can't," the younger, quivering away, says, but sooyoung only held her closer, her hand that was on chaewon's inner thigh, now dangerously close to her center, caressing her soft skin. "mhm? don't you want unnie to show you her love?" the cunning girl said, trailing kisses on chaewon's neck. chaewon didn't know what to do, she knew this was wrong. joy has a partner, but why does she feel funny? she feels as though she wanted joy—no, she does want her.

"i-i do! b-but your b-boyfriend...?" that made joy laugh out loud. boyfriend... funny because right now, all she ever wants was this young girl in front of her. "shh, you worry too much, baby. let unnie take care of you, mhm?" chaewon nodded and the next thing she know, the older had her sit in between her legs, head turned as joy kissed her softly yet chaewon felt the eagerness in the kiss.

chaewon hummed against joy's lips as joy ran her tongue along her lower lip to which chaewon parted. she wasn't a great kisser—hell, far from it, but joy loved the taste of her mouth mixed with the taste of beer and the clumsiness of chaewon's tongue. she's so clueless, so innocent yet you know hungry for what's yet to come her way. joy drags her lips down chaewon's jaw, trailing them down the younger's jaw, earning a soft sigh from chaewon. "mhm, you smell good." she whispered against chaewon's neck, before sucking on a patch of skin making the smaller girl gasp out both in pain and pleasure of the older marking her. “you like that?” joy chuckled lowly, her hands now caressing chaewon's boobs through the thin satin top.

her nipples were hard, harder every time joy rolls them in between her fingers, even more so when joy finally unbuttoned her pajamas, now toying her hard buds bare. "u-unnie..." chaewon whimpered, subconsciously pushing her hips upwards. to joy, it was the sweet girl begging to get touched where she deserves it. joy used her hands to spread chaewon's legs, caressing her softly, hands purposely ignoring where the little girl wants its best. "u-unnie, i want to feel good." chaewon whispered.

joy didn't bother replying but her hand found its way inside of chaewon's shorts and to her delight, the sweet girl was already wet and ready for her. "good girl, all ready for her unnie, am i right?" joy's teasing remark made the younger whine, burying her face onto the taller girl's neck. joy used her index finger to gently rub chaewon's clit, earning a moan from the girl. her sounds only amplified joy's desire to have the girl, making her move her fingers faster in small, circular motions, her thumb occasionally flicking chaewon's clit—the little girl squirming with every flick. chaewon's never felt this before, god, she felt so fucking good, she wants more.

without thinking, chaewon moved her hips, eager to feel more of her unnie's hand on her center. "unnie, more, please..." that was all joy wanted to hear from her. talking her out to continuing it in her room, chaewon laid in her bed, all naked and ready for her. intoxicated with all the drinks they've had all night, it was hard for chaewon to move, yet alone think properly as soon as she felt the soft mattress. however, joy's presence and how the taller girl slowly took off her own clothes, seducing her, was enough to wake her up. "uh, uh, stay down, my sweet angel. spread your legs for unnie, will you?" joy said with her sweetest smile, but that wasn't what chaewon was focused in. it was her beautiful, plump tits, moving along with every step she took as she got closer to her. "i-is this really okay, unnie? what if you boyfrie—" chaewon didn't even get to finish her sentence when joy had finally settled herself in between the younger's legs, the side of her leg resting on her inner thighs as she looked up to meet chaewon's eyes. "we don't talk about him here, alright? we're here because i like you, chaewon-ah. i want you to feel good." chaewon let out a sharp gasp as joy finally pressed her lips over chaewon's clit, giving it a kiss before she wrapped her lips around the nub, earning a loud moan from the younger.

joy took her time, using her tongue, rolling it around chaewon's clit, flicking it, and every time she does, chaewon's body flinches and her moans grow louder as she get wetter with every touch. "you're so wet, chaewon-ah. do you like this, mhm? you like it when i touch you like this?" chaewon could only moan in response as she felt joy's middle and index finger slipping inside her hole, a loud, high pitched moan coming out from chaewon's parted lips as she felt her finger inside of her.

"n-no, no... no! unnie, take it out, p-please, it stings! it hurts!" chaewon said in a panic, trying to pull away from joy. the older shushing her down— she expected she would be tight, but not as tight as this. chaewon's walls hugged fingers as tight as it could. "god, you're so fucking tight, chaewon-ah. you really were a virgin, were you?" joy whispered but loud enough for chaewon to hear. it was her hot breath against her clit that made her shiver and forget about the pain. letting the girl adjust, she peppered her core soft kisses, trying to ease the pain for her before she started to slowly curl her fingers inside of chaewon, the younger’s body arching as the tip of joy’s fingers easily found her spot, the virgin, overwhelmed with this, almost came, but it wasn’t enough for her to actually cum. “tsk, you’re not to cum yet, sweetheart. this isn’t even all yet.” was all joy had to say before she started thrusting her fingers in and out of chaewon’s cunt whilst her lips wrap around her clit, sucking on it.

“unnie—f-fuck! f-feels so g-good… fuck, joy unnie…” chaewon’s words came out slightly gibberish, joy could only chuckle but the vibrations from that only made chaewon squeal in delight as it felt so good against her clit. increasing the pace of her fingers, she even curls her fingers inside every after thrust she makes and it was driving chaewon insane. the young girl doesn’t know where to put her hands, but it finds its way to joy’s head, pulling her hair. fuck, this gir’s driving me insane, joy could only think as she liked the inflicted pain from the hair pulling.

the simple hair pulling was enough for joy to increase her pace. chaewon had started riding her thrusts, hips moving in sync with every thrust. strings of begs and profanities escaped chaewon’s pretty lips. her tongue sticking out and joy can swear it was as if she was begging for a cock to fuck her face and mouth. the older girl felt chaewon’s walls hug her fingers tighter even more than before. it was insane, she never realized how tight someone can be, but here chaewon was, proving her wrong. “u-unnie… g-good… m-more… no— my t-tummy…” words were coming out funny, but chaewon’s head was all over the place as she felt pressure building on her abdomen. her juices were dripping down to her ass, coating joy’s finger so so fucking well. “oh, baby, look at you, so fucking wet for unnie, aren’t you?” joy’s cunning remark along with the slaps on her clit that replaced her mouth made chaewon’s body curl and squirm, loud, airy moans coming out of her mouth. she shook her head, not knowing where to look nor what to do. she just feels… good.

joy pulled herself up, mouth now sucking on her hard nipples, rolling around the nub before she nibbled and flicked on each nub alternatively. her hunger heightened with every move the sweet girl does, every noise that escapes her mouth. she wanted chaewon and now, she wants her more than ever. “cum for unnie, my sweet chaewon. show me you appreciate me the way i do you.” joy’s voice was so beautiful, so daring, so sexy.

“i-i’m cumming… cumming! u-unnie—!” chaewon’s voice was loud as well as her gasp. it was sharp and her breathing stopped as her walls clenched so tightly around joy, her cum coating her fingers, her clit pulsating against joy’s thumb that had been rubbing circles clumsily around it. “beautiful… fuck, chaewon, you’re so, so good for me.” joy kissed her on the lips as she pulled her fingers out. chaewon looked at her, tears glossing her eyes, breathing heavily as she gain composure back from her first high… her very first ever. “unnie…” chaewon says and pauses.“it felt so good, but… i feel guilty. so, so guilty.”  before joy could even console her, chaewon pulled the older woman up with all her remaining strength, hands now groping joy’s tits, feeling her nipples get hard with her caressing them. she wasn’t going to cry. was she guilty knowing joy had a boyfriend? no. far from it. chaewon felt guilty that she loved it, she loves it. and that she wanted more. “can i return the favor? i feel bad not doing so.” chaewon said with the weakest yet cutest chuckle joy has ever heard. who was she now to say no?

note: i'll leave it at that... for now. and as for my tags, i'm going to keep the kyna writes tag for my write ups for easier access for the all of us, heh. thank you!

[tw1l1te]

𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮

Yandere! Linked Universe x Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, and I mean dark, suggestive, angst, more angst, kidnapping, mentions of death, dark religious themes

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You'd lost track of how many days, weeks, months years have passed since you'd been contained in this hell. You'd lost track of who you last talked to. You'd lost all sense of what happened, and where everything went wrong.

One of the clearest memories you have is how it happened.

How it started it already began long before.

Just hours after defeating the shadow, you were making plans to leave. To go back home after almost three years. You knew the subject was touchy and created a tense air to the group, but it was unavoidable now. It was time to go.

You look back at the portal, blue and gold wisps illuminating the surrounding area. Why wasn't anybody reacting to it, if at all?

If they pretended it didn't exist, you wouldn't leave them.

Enough was enough. You've waited too long for this, worked too hard. You didn't belong here.

Picking up your pack, you look at the rift once more. The pulsating sensation beckoning you closer.

Leave. Go home. Leave them. Go now, before it's too late. Now now nownownow gonowgonowGONOwLEAVEBEFOREITISTOOLATE-

A hand wraps around your wrist, hot fire against your ice cold bones.

"Stay. Please."

Twilight looks defeated. On the brink of utter collapse, eyes on the brink of tears.

"If only there was another way, Twilight. If only. I'm sorry, it's time."

"I love you, darlin'. I love you so much. Please don't leave m-us. Not again. I can't- won't. Not again."

You weren't her. No, you weren't Midna. You wouldn't leavEhiMheRE

He was on his knees, eyes never wavering off of yours. He was praying. Praying a mantra to your entity. His goddess. His divinity.

You feel another set of hands on your hips, melding perfectly against your form. Prophetical puzzle pieces locking together.

Legend was already crying, salty tears wettening your tunic. His hands were coated with blood. Not his.

"Y/n I- please, Mousey. Please please. Not again. I can't do this without you. Let us come with you. We'll do anything."

His hands. His hands were on your face, sticky blood tarnishing your perfect face. A face that held eras. His and his brothers', embedded in your very soul.

"I'm sorry- I can't. You know I'd bring you with me if I could, but it's time. I don't belong here. You know I don't, you said it yourself oh so long ago."

"That was- I was different. So so much has happened, so much."

The earth started to shake, ramping up in mere seconds.

The rock started to crack, larger and larger chasms forming, decreasing your chances of getting out of here.

It was now or never.

You look back at them, mouthing 'I'm sorry', and run.

Run and don't look back.

Run before you change your mind again.

Run before you miss your chance. Forever.

Your fingers graze the golden light, a sensation unlike you've ever felt before.

A force knocks you out cold, the last thing you see is that damned golden light.

~

You woke up almost a week later, eyes barely being able to open from how long they've been shut.

You remember the blood-curling scream you let out, vocal cords tearing at your anguish.

You remember Wild and Hyrule running in, holding you in place to not harm yourself even more.

You remember sobbing for hours that night, all of them staring at you.

You remember how nauseous and mortified you were when Time bathed you, combing through your locks and looming over you, cooing at you like you were some lost lamb.

You remember how disappointed Wars looked when he found you with your locks strewn around you on the floor, hoping that you wouldn't be pretty anymore in their eyes if you messed yourself up. It made you more stunning.

You remember sitting in the corner of the room, curling in on yourself while you hummed a lullaby, trying to ignore the looming eyes of the chosen hero in the other corner of the room.

They don't let you out past the fence, past it leads into the forest.

You stopped talking to any of them months ago, vocal cords mostly damaged from your screams.

You feel slightly safer with Wind around, knowing they would stay away if he was with you, trusting him to be their eyes for when they weren't home. This wasn't his fault, he was only a kid. Not knowing any better because his brothers told him this was right.

You promised him and yourself that'd you would both get out someday. You both knew he could come and go as he pleased, but he morally couldn't. You reminded him of Aryll, though that personality had long been lost.

You were in your bed, drawing in a notebook that Wind had brought you. It was blue, engraved with small violet flowers. You picked up drawing a few months ago, the distraction keeping you slightly sane. You didn't know what you were drawing, but it felt nostalgic. Safe. Home.

The door opens, Time walking into the room and pulling a chair from the far corner to sit in front of you.

You choose to ignore him, focusing very hard on the drawing at hand.

"You haven't talked much lately, Flower."

You wince at the petname, the syllables off his tongue making you disgusted. He has no right calling you that.

He keeps looking at you, elbows on his knees as he examines you, like some art on a wall. You can look, but you can't touch.

"I miss your voice, baby. I miss you saying my name."

You stop drawing on the paper, but still not looking at him. You refuse.

He crawls up to you, on his hands and knees, praying to his goddess for forgiveness of his sins

"My moonlight... please. Please say my name. That's all I will ever ask of you."

You look at him, noticing how tired and destroyed he looks.

Serves him right.

You close your notebook, lacing it back up with the leather cord. Setting it aside, you look back at him.

You vocal cords scream as you open your mouth, so in pain from the strain.

With gravely words and no emotion to give, you rasp

"Rot in hell."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[wanderingelvis]

Hello love,is it okay for me to call you that? Sorry if it isn't,I was wondering if you can write an Yandere!70s or late 60s Elvis where the reader is naive and is dragged to one of his shows by readers friend or anyone she knows,you can choose and he notices her from the crowd but doesn't get the chance to go talk to her and maybe 1 week later he still has her on his mind and luckily he finds her talking to Jerry or someone and maybe he traps her like Rapunzel? Sorry if I'm asking for too much,it's okay if you can't do it! Maybe Priscilla isn't in here because I love her too much to have her heartbroken or anything like that!

Thank you for this! I got a bit carried away, I might edit it too but I hope you like it! 🧚

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

word count: 4,641

pairing: naive f!reader x 70s yandere!elvis

warnings: cussing, yandere themes, mentions of abuse, emotional manipulation, stockholm syndrome

You and Elvis were like prey and predator, you were just too naive to see it. You were a lamb to his lion and the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were going to be his and only his.

Your older - and wiser - best friend, Betty, had taken you to one of his shows in Vegas, an experience like no other you'd ever had. The loud music, the bright lights, the screaming, was causing you to go into sensory overload and feel frightened and vulnerable. Elvis had noticed you as soon as he did his usual bit of turning the lights on the audience, he was practically bewitched by your beauty and the innocence that was positively radiating off you.

No girl had ever had that effect on Elvis, not in this way, not so instantly.

But Elvis wasn’t to meet you that night. You took off like a little fairytale character, running out of the auditorium as Elvis’ eyes followed you until you disappeared. You couldn’t handle the intense Vegas scene, it was too much for you to cope with and you needed some air. Betty had gone after you, consoling you as you repeatedly apologised for ruining her night and taking off like that but Betty was nothing but supportive, knowing that you were probably not ready for a show as wild as Elvis Presley’s.

Elvis couldn’t get you off his mind, your face was stuck in his head at all times. When he left the stage he was thinking of you, when he cooled off he thought of you, when he jerked off on his trailer he pictured you and as he fell asleep he thought of you.

By the third day of you relentlessly occupying his mind, Elvis knew Jerry had to find you. Funnily enough, both Elvis and Jerry recognised your friend Betty as one of the waitresses from the front of house at the International and Jerry hotel and it didn’t take long for Jerry to scout her out and enquire about you.

Blinded by the idea of getting close to Elvis, Betty gave up your location and contact details to Jerry in an instant and a day later, your phone rang furiously, again and again and again until you picked up.

“Is this Y/N Y/L/N?” A hoarse, deep Southern voice asked.

“Uh-huh! Speaking!” You said chirpily and Elvis melted at the sound of your voice. “Why? Who’s askin’?” You asked, twisting the phone cord with your fingers.

“Elvis Presley.” Elvis said as he heard a little, sweet gasp from the other end of the line, making him chuckle. “I hope you don’t mind me callin’, your lovely friend Betty passed on your number to me.”

“How do I know you’re really Elvis Presley and not Johnny from work because this could really be somethin’ Johnny would do.” You giggled adorably.

“You wore a white silk dress to my show, you ran out just as I began singin’ Suspicious Minds, guessin’ you ain’t too keen on that song, eh?” Elvis said and your stomach dropped, realising it really was Elvis.

"Oh gee." You mumbled. "I, um, I love your songs mister, I just, um, m'not good with crowds, it's silly, I know," You told the man.

"I don't think it's silly, I don't like crowds neither," Elvis agreed. "It's flatterin' to perform to a crowd but I hate bein' in them, I try to avoid them too." Elvis said, making you feel a little validated.

"I betchu get a lotta crowds, mister." You mused softly as if you were chatting to an old friend.

A deep chuckle could be heard on the other end of the line. "You can say that again, darlin'. But I sure was sad t'see you go so soon." Elvis said.

"M'sorry Mr Presley, m'sure Betty probably told ya, but I really am a big fan, I was real excited to see ya and I even wrote about it in my diary and everythin', it's just, it's just that I find crowds and all the loud noises and everythin' all a bit scary sometimes, and a couple of ladies," You paused and chewed your lip. "Well, they were just real big fans of yours I s'pose, pushed me outta the way to try to get to you and it was all gettin' a little intense see, and I just, it got a bit too much, I wish I did stay though, I said that to Betty too, that I felt real bad, I think I ruined her night really, I wrote her a real big sorry note and she says its okay but I know she's just bein' nice. Y'know I wish I'd stayed because that song you sing, Love Me Tender, oh boy, that's one of my favourite songs ever and I was real upset I missed it, you sing that beautifully Mr Presley." You babbled sweetly. "M'sorry, I've been ramblin' on and on atchu. I know some of it sounds dumb, a lotta people have said I'm dumb for not likin' crowds and loud music and, I mean, I don't really like it when people call me dumb, but I guess, um, maybe it is sorta."

Everything in the way you spoke confirmed to Elvis exactly what he'd expected; you were sweet, kind, naive and nervous.

"Now, now. You are not dumb for that and anyone who calls you that is frankly, an idiot." Elvis said, making you giggle. "How's about you and Betty come along down to the hotel tomorrow evening? I'd sure like to meet you without any of those crowds, maybe I can show you how to play Love Me Tender on the piano, I love that song too, little one." Elvis proposed, the pet name making your tummy do somersaults with nervous excitement at the sweet attention you were receiving.

You agreed, almost a little too eagerly, making Elvis realise that you were just like an excitable puppy, and he adored it.

He told you that he'd send his friend Jerry in a car for you and you bid him goodbye, running straight to your bedroom to write down as much of the conversation as you could remember in your pink diary.

You didn't sleep that night with so much excitement bubbling up inside of you. But, before you knew it, you were in a car with Jerry Schilling, asking a million questions about Elvis, the International and about Jerry too. Jerry understood straight away why you were so appealing to Elvis, you were everything that Elvis looked for, but Jerry knew Elvis a little too well and Jerry knew that once you were in Elvis' grasp, he'd never let you go. Jerry almost felt bad as you both sat in the car as he knew this would be the last time you experienced life as you knew it, everything would change when you stepped into the International Hotel.

Weirdly enough, Betty was nowhere to be found as you were escorted to Elvis' dressing room. The nerves were growing inside of you as you smoothed out your lilac dress and made sure no strays of your long, flowing hair were out of place as Jerry knocked on the door. That familiar voice could be heard from the other side of the door, calling for you to enter.

When you walked in, Elvis rose from his seat to greet you. He dominated the space, his aura was powerful and magnetic and he practically towered over everyone. His presence was overwhelming and instantly alluring and addictive.

As he approached you, you couldn't help but panic a little, you so desperately wanted to impress him, yet you'd never been in such a position before. Elvis on the other hand, thought you were simply adorable. You were as beautiful as he'd remembered and you had a gentle and shy demeanour, although from his brief conversation with you, he could tell that you could probably be very stubborn too.

Elvis grabbed you a soft drink after you both greeted each other, letting you relax a little as you took in the atmosphere. You chatted for a little while before Elvis offered to take you on a tour the hotel and the little recording booth that had been installed too.

"Shouldn't we wait for Betty? She'd like to go on the tour too, Mr Presley. I don't know why she's not here yet, but I s'pose her job can make her kinda busy, but I know she'd really wanna be here so I don't know what's holdin' her up."

"Sweetheart, please call me Elvis, I know I'm an old man these days, but you don't have to address me like one." Elvis laughed, making you blush. "But I'm sorry darlin', I thought Jer told ya, Betty said she couldn't make it? She said she was awful sorry but her boss had sent her for some trainin' thing or somethin', I don't know, I'm sorry no-one told you, honey." Elvis said, making you look up with confusion.

"Oh." You said quietly. You knew how much of a fan Betty was of Elvis and that she'd waited for ages to be allowed by her boss to have the evening off to see his show. "She must be real upset, she really wanted to go to your show." You told him.

"You think she'd like a signed picture of me, honey? I'll get one sent over to her straight away." Elvis told you, making you smile.

"Oh gee, that would be real kind of you, Betty would love that! Y'know, I even think she'd put it in a frame and keep it on display!" You giggled adorably. You admired how down to earth and friendly Elvis was for a famous musician.

You followed Elvis around the hotel, in awe of everything he showed you and loving every second you spent by his side as you began to feel oddly attached to him.

Elvis even taught you to play the melody for Love Me Tender on the piano, not getting mad or angry at you for messing it up - even on the twelfth try. That's when you let slip about your upbringing and how your parents would berate you and emotionally abuse you for not being able to pick things up as quickly as they wanted you to. Elvis didn't pry, but he listened intently to what you were telling him and working out how it made you behave and react and how he could use it to keep you as his own.

But when the magical day finally came to and end, the communication didn't stop then. You and Elvis would call each other all the time and he became all you thought about, day in, day out.

You visited him at the hotel several more times, spending hours together, giggling, teasing each other, reading, relaxing and trying to perfect that piano melody.

It wasn't until your sixth visit that you finally bumped into Betty again, dashing away from Jerry who would always escort you to Elvis to go see her at her waitress' post.

"Betty! Betty!" You said with a beaming smile, dashing up to her, only to be met with a less than friendly reception. Your smile dropped a little, noticing the tense atmosphere. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"I know. I've been tryna reach ya Y/N, but there are whisperin's that you're seein' Elvis Presley? Is that true?" Betty said with slight frustration in her tone.

"Uh-huh! He's one of my best friends now I think, just like you! I even made him a bracelet and he says he's gonna wear it on stage!" You giggled.

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing Elvis Presley? I'm meant to be your best friend Y/N and I gotta hear from Darlene, the dishwasher that my best friend is bein' snuck in to meet the King? You know how much I loved Elvis, Y/N, you knew it would hurt me if you got together with him." Betty said, making you frown with worry.

You adored Betty, you always had and it was never your intention to ever hurt her - or anyone that matter.

"M'not together with Elvis in that way, he's just a friend and I tried to tell ya but when I tried t'ring ya back, I couldn't get through. But he gave you that signed picture of him as a sorry that you couldn't come to the tour with me, remember? He likes you, promise!" You said, trying your best to make her feel better.

"What are you talkin' about Y/N? What picture? What tour?" Betty said, bewildered and frustrated.

You chewed your lip as you began to feel a bit confused at everything, Elvis and Jerry had told you about how busy Betty and the rest of the staff at the International were.

"Y'know how you were doin' the training so you couldn't come with me on the tour and Elvis and Jerry sent you that signed autograph picture of Elvis remember? Elvis told me that you told Jerry you couldn't come? He said that you'd got the autograph?" You said softly, feeling confused and anxious.

Betty sighed, shaking her head as she looked at the floor, putting the together the pieces and realising what Elvis was doing to you.

"Jesus." Betty muttered. "I wasn't invited to any tour, Y/N, the only time I've talked to Jerry Schilling was when he promised I could meet Elvis with you and then I never heard from him again and now I realise why. I didn't get any goddamn autograph."

"It must've just got lost Betty, I swear, Elvis really wants to meet you." You insisted naively.

"He's just lying to you to get on your good side, he just wants to fuck you." Betty practically spat.

Your eyes widened at the cursing, you'd never experienced Betty like this before and you were beginning to feel upset over it all. Elvis had been nothing but sweet to you.

"No he doesn't, he's not like that. He wouldn't lie to me, Betty." You said defensively.

"God, you're so dumb sometimes, you know that? He's literally manipulating you, Y/N." Betty exclaimed, the words cutting deep, prompting tears to pool in your eyes.

Many people had called you dumb before, but Betty had never been one of them. She'd been the only person you were really friends with since you'd moved to Vegas and now you'd lost her.

"M'not dumb." You said quietly, your voice cracking at the end as you turned away from who you thought was your best friend, running straight past Jerry and through to where you knew Elvis would be.

When Elvis saw you in tears, he became protective immediately, cooing at you as you engulfed him in a hug, needing his love and his attention. He wrapped his big arms around you, rubbing soothing circles in your back, whispering sweet nothings about how he was here, you were safe and everything was going to be okay.

Once you'd calmed down, you finally managed to get your words out, explaining what had happened, telling Elvis that you knew he would send the autographs and that you trusted him. Little did you know, that Betty was right all along but she'd just pushed you straight into Elvis' trap.

"A-and t-then, she, she said I was d-dumb, m'not dumb, Elvis, m'not!" You said through little mewls and sobs, revealing your biggest insecurity to him.

"Oh sweet girl, you're not dumb, I know that, you're my clever girl." Elvis comforted.

Elvis continued to soothe you from your distress, helping to calm you down with soft, tender kisses to your cheeks and the top of your head. You agreed that maybe it was best if you don't see Betty anymore, Elvis didn't want to see you upset again and told you that Betty was just jealous of you now, that she wasn't someone that you needed in your life anymore.

That night, you stayed in Elvis' bed for the first time after he easily convinced you that you were in no fit state to be taken home and left on your own.

A few months had gone by since your first few encounters with Elvis and you were firmly his little girl now. Everyone knew it, his circle, the staff at the International and it hadn't taken long for it to reach the press that Elvis Presley had a shiny new toy locked away in the biggest suite in the International.

The Vegas scene was all a bit much for you, understandably so. You didn't understand how Elvis managed it all, it was a relentless routine of shows, press, crowds, parties and wild antics and you couldn't keep up. Elvis never pressured you to take part in anything you didn't want to, in fact, he encouraged you to stay in the suite, insisting upon it sometimes, for your own good, he would say.

And you trusted Elvis beyond belief. You knew that he wanted the best for you and you ended up being quite content spending your days in your gilded cage of a luxury hotel suite.

Sometimes you wanted to leave, Elvis would never stop you, but every time you went with Elvis elsewhere, things would get out of hand and you'd both be mobbed by fans to the point that you would send Elvis that knowing, pleading look that meant you wanted to go back to your peaceful palace and escape the madness of the lobby or street - and he'd take you back up in a heartbeat.

But right now, you were on the bathroom floor, panicking after reading a magazine that had been left on one of the coffee tables that featured you and Elvis in it. It talked about you suffering 'Stockholm Syndrome', something you'd never heard before and you were frantically trying to find any kind of medicine that would explain, and treat, whatever this syndrome just happened to be.

"Baby, what are ya doin'?" "M'tryna find the right medicine." You mumbled, your mind totally preoccupied on trying to find out whatever was wrong with you and what you needed to fix this so-called 'syndrome'.

Elvis crouched down to your level, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched you routinely pick up a bottle of pills or vitamins, hold it up to your face so you could inspect the label with knitted brows and a lot of concentration before casting it aside when you knew it wouldn't be what you needed.

"Are you sick, little?" Elvis asked gently, a little worried about you.

You huffed, feeling a little bratty and grumpy at the interruptions. You were feeling anxious about what you'd read and it wasn't helping that Elvis kept badgering you with questions - even if it was actually only two questions. "Well, I don't know." You muttered crankily, your bottom lip jutting out as you looked down at the mess around you.

If Elvis wasn't so concerned about you in this moment, he'd actually rather tell you how cute you looked, all mopey and bratty in the middle of the big bathroom floor, your nightgown pooling around you as you sat of the soft shower mat that you'd moved so the cold bathroom tile wouldn't touch your skin.

"You don't know if ya sick or not? Honey, I'm no doctor, but that don't sound right t'me." Elvis chuckled at you, making you get all worked up all over again - this was no laughing matter, apparently everyone that read that magazine in America knew you were sick and you were too stupid to even know it yourself.

"It's not funny!" You snapped, crossing your arms and glaring at Elvis.

"Oh darlin', I'm only playin' with my little girl, tell me what's goin' on in that pretty, lil head of yours hm? You don't seem like yourself." Elvis said soothingly.

"Apparently..." You started but you just felt too shy to even admit that people thought you were ill and you didn't even know it yourself. You felt like that silly little girl who got pushed around by the stage all over again.

"Apparently what, Y/N?" Elvis said, trying to read your face for any indication as to what was wrong.

"Don't wanna say." You mumbled, trying not to let any tears slip.

You were just overstimulated and overwhelmed and that was only natural. You stayed in Elvis' suite for most of your days, you liked it, it was comforting and safe and most importantly, far away from the dangers of your 'old life', but it also meant that if there was any change to your routine, it could take its toll on you very easily - and finding one of the biggest celebrity magazines writing about how you were sick and Elvis knew it, was a big change to your routine that you could never have prepared for.

"You're a big girl baby, use your words. I can't help you feel better if you don't tell me what's wrong, can I?" Elvis chided gently yet firmly.

"Apparently I'm sick and you know I'm sick and I don't know I'm sick." You said with a wobbly voice.

"Who told you that you were sick honey?" Elvis said, utterly confused and bewildered by what you were saying, but his concern was growing.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to stop any stray tears from slipping as you turned your body around a little to grab the magazine from behind you with your small hands. "It says in the magazine, I got a syndrome, it's named after a place in Europe, um, Sweden, no, um, Stockholm, I think?" You said softly, your sweet voice cracking at the admission, as he tentatively took the glossy magazine from your grip.

Elvis eyes scanned the page, and they grew darker when he read the headlines and the nasty, nasty things they had written about your relationship.

'Y/N Y/L/N, Presley's girl in the tower'

'Y/L/N is evidently showing classic signs of Stockholm Syndrome, there are never sightings of her unless she's glued to Presley's side and we all know what he's like when it comes to his women.'

'Maybe one day, Y/L/N will stop seeing her Vegas life through rose-tinted glasses that Elvis has forced upon her and realise just how bad she's got it.'

Elvis could feel his blood boiling and his temper rising. He knew better than to think the press was going to write nice things about him, but he couldn't fathom how the copy of the lurid magazine had found its way into your possession.

"How did you get this, doll?" Elvis said calmly, trying not to scare you.

"It was left on the coffee table, I thought you left it for me, it had a section on pretty dresses to wear to your favourite show so I thought you'd left it for me? Or maybe it was one of the guys?" You said with glossy eyes and a slightly wet, pink nose, from your little sniffles.

Now, Elvis never intended to keep you away in his lavish suite and he truly didn't see that what he was doing was actually harming you. No, Elvis believed he was just protecting you. After you'd opened up to him about your troubles, your anxieties and your intense reluctance to trust others due to PTSD from traumatic events you'd been through in the past, Elvis just wanted to make sure no one would ever hurt you or scare you again. That's just how Elvis viewed it, he didn't realise it was manipulative or detrimental, Elvis just loved you - perhaps a little too much.

Sure, Elvis knew that it was beneficial to him to keep you away from the gaze of other men, he knew how every man would look at you, like you were sent from heaven and as soon as you opened that pretty little mouth of yours and spoke in that pretty little voice, they'd realise you really were an angel. Elvis practically shuddered at the thought of any man having any kind of access to you, he was possessive, dangerously so.

Elvis knew you were a little behind everyone else in many ways, you were inexperienced emotionally, mentally and socially and Elvis simply figured that God, or some higher power, had put you in front of him so that he could be the one to take care of you and guide you and protect you.

It didn't take long for Elvis to gain your trust and manipulate it. He listened to you and cared for you, showering you in love and affection and attention that you were so desperate for.

Whenever you needed anything, Elvis would be right there to provide it, whether it was a band aid after you clumsily fell over and scuffed your knee, someone to hide behind when a scary scene came on during a movie or just someone to give you a safe space to be yourself without judgement, Elvis was the person to do it.

You eventually grew reliant on Elvis as he began to isolate you from the world, but you didn't mind. You began to feel anxious if you weren't around the big, powerful, man and you'd seek him out at every opportunity and Elvis picked up on it quickly. He knew that if he sent for you, he knew you'd come and if he called for you, you'd run to him.

"Am I sick, Elvis?" You whispered, your face painted with worry and panic.

Elvis cooed, pulling you into his embrace and wrapping his big arms around your little frame, rocking you gently as you both sat on the bathroom tile.

"No, little one. You're not sick, it's the journalists, they're being mean to you to try and get to me and to sell a quick buck. Don't you let your little head worry one bit, you're my happy, healthy baby, aren't you?" Elvis soothed, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair, trying to quell your unease.

You nodded, wiping away a couple of hot tears that had fallen.

"I want to hear you say it, little one." Elvis encouraged gently.

"I'm your happy, healthy baby." You said softly, looking up at him with those big round eyes that made him melt.

"There we go, that's my girl." Elvis smiled warmly, squeezing you a little.

"Why do they gotta be so mean?" You asked, fiddling with the hem of your gown, a habit that you had when you felt a bit overwhelmed or overstimulated. Elvis could tell you were emotionally exhausted.

"They need to sell their stories baby, bad news always sells more so they want us to be unhappy so that they have more t'write about." Elvis told you and your eyebrows knitted together.

"I don't think I wanna read those magazines no more Elvis." You admitted and Elvis nodded.

"I think that's a good idea baby, a clever girl like you doesn't need t'be reading nonsense about herself. Their words don't matter, as long as you're happy, that's what matters to me, lil mama." Elvis said as he rocked you gently in his arms, the slow movements combined with your sheer exhaustion from the stress and anxiety of thinking you were sick, taking its toll as you let your head rest against Elvis' chest.

"M'happy. I don't like reporters no more, I don't wanna talk to them no more." You mumbled.

"That's my good girl." Elvis cooed, letting you drift off in his arms. "I think it's time for bed sweet thing, you've gotten yourself all worked up and you're exhausted, little one." Elvis said, easily scooping you up in his arms as he took you to bed.

He thought you looked awful cute, all clingy and needy and sleepy. Elvis knew that you needed a lot of care and attention and Elvis was certain that nobody was going to give you that apart from him. You were his little Rapunzel and Elvis wasn't planning on letting you out of your gilded cage anytime soon, and you didn't mind one bit.

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