#sister of sin Saccharine

[copiousloverofcopia]

A new fluff piece commission from my sweet friend @sistersaccharine based on the gorgeous art she received from @dipendancesld

Art and story shared with permission

Below the cut for space 💗

Something Within Your Eyes

Also available HERE on AO3

Commissions are still open on the heart mug site, please see pinned post for details.

It would be her birthday when the clock struck twelve and she wondered to herself how she would be able to control her excitement for the rest of the day. Papa would be held up in Ministry affairs all afternoon, leaving her alone to dwell in her thoughts and anticipation. “What a way to celebrate.” she whispered to herself, bouncing her legs as she sat on her favorite bench along the churchyard. “I wonder what he has planned.”

The autumn breeze carried the leaves along the cloister as Sister Saccharine trembled with excitement. A navy blue envelope held tightly to her chest, filling her with joy. An invitation from Copia to meet tonight at the main staircase, when the moon it’s at its highest in the sky. Her breath halted at the thought. Her dearest Papa, asking to see her at midnight.

The reigning Papa and his demure sister of sin had grown quite close since his return from tour. The two of them, thick as thieves and practically inseparable at times. The ghouls enjoyed kidding her—saying if they wanted to find Papa, they needed only to find her first and there he would be. While neither would admit it, a romance had sprouted between them.

Something small, like a seedling from Primo’s garden, that was always present but overlooked unless one searched for it. Saccharine had been aching inside to tell him. To confess the truth of her heart to her Papa, but whenever the time arose, she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. Maybe he didn’t feel the same? Would this ruin the friendship between them? All questions she asked herself which ultimately kept her silent. Pining for him, unaware of his own internal struggle with his feelings for her.

As the day dragged on, Saccharine counted down the hours, the minutes, and even the seconds until the time she would meet with Copia on the stairs. Her thoughts filled with imaginings of the surprise he had planned for them. When the time was finally near, she went to her room to change, donning her favorite dress. Frills of lace and such beautiful fabric, one she knew he would love.

She pulled her long brunette hair back with a bow. Gently patting on a bit of blush to the apples of her cheeks, before heading out the door. She bounced down the halls, her heart pounding away as she grew closer to her destination. When she reached the stairs, she saw from the corner of her eye that one of Copia’s rats, Rigatoni, had been quietly traveling beside her. “Well hello little friend, what are you doing here? Don’t you think Papa will wonder where you’ve run off too?” she giggled, the little rat climbing into her cupped hands. He seemed to nod in response, eliciting a smile from the excited but anxious sister.

Suddenly the sister felt a gentle weight placed on her shoulder. Her breath halted as she heard the familiar voice of her Papa. “Mia dolce, you can understand them too?” Copia beamed as Saccharine turned to face him.

“Oh Papa it's you!” she delighted, a smile spread wide across her face. Her pink tinged cheeks, lifting upward toward her eyes. Eyes that sparkled in the light from the stained glass window atop the stairs. The moon, truly shining with its full glory on that night.

Copia looked so handsome. His military style jacket worn over his favorite peasant top and gold embroidered vest accenting his shape. While his tight threaded pants, left little to the imagination. The sight of him alone enough to make Saccharine flustered. He had little Gnocchi on his shoulder, her and Rigatoni, two of Saccharine's favorite rats.

“Sweetheart…Sei bellissima.” Copia praised as he spun her around. He looked deeply into her eyes, taking in her beauty as if to commit it to memory. She was breathtaking and there was nothing he wanted more than to spend this night beside her.

“Papa, you asked to meet me?” she asked, noticing the intense look in his eyes.

“Sí, I have a surprise for you.” he smiled, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs. Saccharine’s heart fluttered away like a million butterflies inside her. Where could he be taking me? They reached a large pair of old doors, covered with deep engravings of Luciferian imagery. Saccharine ran her fingers across them, feeling the rich craftsmanship and sensing the history beneath her fingertips as she waited to see what Copia would do next.

“Papa?” she began before Copia interrupted by taking her hand.

“Sweetheart, please call me Copia.” he insisted, Saccharine nodding as Copia opened the doors. As they creaked open, the sound of their movements echoed into the room before them. The doors, opening wide to reveal their secret. She could hardly believe her eyes—the Ministry ballroom.

She had heard of it before, the siblings recanting tales of parties and celebrations past. When the third Emeritus reigned, he had thrown them often. Splendor and enchantment, promised to all who attended these soires. Such stories filled her with a longing–that one day she would see it for herself, and that day was finally here.

Saccharine walked in, Copia following closely behind her after shutting the doors up behind them. It was so much to take in. The room was massive, the floor covered in black and white checkered tile, that spread as far as her eye could see. The ceiling was decorated with elaborate chandeliers, hundreds of candles awaiting their flames. The towering windows that lined it, allowing in the full luster of the moonlight, filling the room with a hauntingly beautiful glow.

“This night is for you mia cara.” Copia smiled, “Tonight we dance, a celebration of your birth. The day Lucifer graced this worldly plane with someone so perfect as you.” he said, the words igniting inside her.

“Oh Pa–Copia, it's so beautiful.” Saccharine cried, the tears falling from her eyes as she turned away, shyly attempting to conceal them. Copia kissed the top of her head and lifted her chin up to face him.

“May I have this dance sweetheart?” Papa asked her, his gentle hand outstretched to her. The shy sister took his hand, Copia smiling as he placed his right hand on her shoulder. The two of them began to waltz around the room. Rigatoni and little Gnocchi, watching on as Copia spun Saccharine around. Whirling and twirling as the two of them giggled away.

Copia was quite impressed. The sister was a lovely dancer. Her movements, fluid and elegant as they continued their dance. "You're fantastic mia cara, and you dance marvelously!" Copia praised her, his infatuation with her present in his words.

"T-thank you Papa you make me blush…" She replied, feeling her heart pounding harder within her chest. Before she knew it, Copia had spun her around, holding her in his arms as he dipped her down and stared her deep into her eyes. Saccharine's own eyes widened in his gaze, her emotions flooding her inside.

"Ah…ah…" Copia stuttered as he saw her reaction. The unsaid truth between them had begun to seep through to the outside. Copia pulled the sister back up, letting her go and staring down at his shoes. He felt awful for having overstepped his boundaries, maybe he had misread her, all the little things he thought were tells, meanless. A narrative only created within his mind. "...mi dispiace principessa. I forget myself." He apologized, shifting where he stood, so worried he had upset her.

"Papa." The sister said softly, placing her hand on him. She could feel him trembling a bit, nervous and unsure.

"Please Saccharine, Copia." He asked her, unable to look her again in the eye. She lifted his chin, forcing him to face her. Saccharine took in a deep breath—this was it. The moment she'd waited for, she had to tell her Papa how she truly felt.

"Copia. I have something I need to tell you." She began, swallowing back the knot in her throat.

"What is it?" He asked her, a hint of hope in his tone.

"I—I'm in love with you." Saccharine confessed, the words leaving her lips so fast but leaving her feeling like the weight of worlds lifted off her shoulder. Copia grew quiet for a moment, Saccharine patiently waiting for what he'd say. Before she knew it he had lifted her up into the air, spinning her around and bringing her lips to his. Their kiss, feeling more blissful than anything either of them had ever experienced before.

"Sweetheart. I love you too. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I was so afraid that I was wrong about how you felt. That it was too much to ask Satanas to bless us with something more. I was afraid I would lose you as a friend." Copia confessed. Their heartbeats, synching as he held her tightly within his arms. The sister nuzzling her face against his chest.

"I will always be your friend Copia...even now as something more." She promised.

"I'm glad." Copia said, squeezing her.

"Oh...Copia, can I ask…how could you tell?" Saccharine asked him.

"Tell what mia dolce?" He responded, still unwilling yet to let go.

"How I felt?" She asked him.

"It was something within your eyes." Papa smiled, bringing his lips back to hers. Copia and Saccharine danced the night away. The hours, feeling like time held still for them. A precious moment between them as dawn took control over the night. The two having confessed their feelings and a new chapter unfolding between them in the fading moonlight.

Notes:

Sei bellissima- You look beautiful.

mi dispiace- I'm sorry

mia cara- my dear

mia dolce- my sweet

principessa- princess

[sisterofsinsaccharine]

🥀 Belladonna & Dracopia 🥀

New commission for my lovely friend and fellow Sister of Sin @sisterbellacirice of her OC Sister Belladonna with Dracopia! It was an absolute joy to draw them! hope you all like it!!

REMINDER THAT MY COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

[blkkizzat]

'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation. 

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course. 

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation. 

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action. 

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself. 

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful? 

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.  

If you were a test he had failed. 

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions. 

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib? 

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer. 

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs. 

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison. 

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance. 

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak. 

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man. 

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds. 

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold. 

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you. 

There was no escaping you. 

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji. 

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction. 

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen? 

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat. 

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame. 

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age. 

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith. 

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face. 

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees. 

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar. 

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then. 

Nor your husband. 

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk. 

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear: 

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town. 

Gojo owns your cunt. 

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass. 

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist. 

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.” 

You obediently replied. 

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth. 

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue. 

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease. 

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.  

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you. 

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips. 

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat. 

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you. 

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval. 

He gives you a small nod. 

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind. 

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in. 

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband. 

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself. 

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself. 

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen. 

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip. 

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.  

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation. 

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet. 

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere. 

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento. 

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns. 

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?” 

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town. 

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself.. 

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens. 

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?” 

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress. 

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.” 

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell. 

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays. 

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words. 

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone? 

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro. 

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways. 

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer. 

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way. 

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being. 

The scent of your cunt. 

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard. 

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned. 

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair. 

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt. 

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

[spider-stark]

JEALOUSY

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Dealing with the consequences of making Aegon jealous

Warnings - MINORS DNI, abusive/toxic relationship, definite masochism, choking, brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of blades, targcest

Word Count - 1.6k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

Stars cloud your vision when he shoves you against the wall, your temple slamming into the rough stone. 

You hiss at the pain splintering through your skull, throbbing so much that you hardly even acknowledge the accompanying ache in your shoulder, your arm contorted awkwardly as his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, pinning it in-between your shoulder blades. 

He leans in close, pressing his weight against your spine and knocking the air from your lungs. His other hand comes up to tangle itself in your hair, keeping your cheek pressed firmly against the stone.

You try to use your free hand to push back against the wall, desperate to give your chest enough space to expand, to allow oxygen to fill your needy lungs. 

A dry laugh rattles his chest at the sight, amused as he watches you shove helplessly. Then, after listening to your pathetic pants for a few heartbeats, his grip slackens enough to let you catch a full breath—but not enough to give you an opportunity to escape his hold. 

Though, even if you could free yourself, you would’ve had no intention of actually doing so. 

“I bet you think you’re a clever girl,” his lips are nearly grazing against your earlobe as he speaks, the warmth of his breath fanning down your neck. “Don’t you?” 

Aegon’s tone is sickeningly sweet, and the saccharine taunt offers a distinct contrast to the violent grip he still has on you. You can still feel the sharp sting of his nails clawing around your wrist, digging into the flesh so deeply that you wonder if he will draw blood. 

It wouldn’t be the first time that Aegon had made you bleed—and you hoped that it wouldn’t be the last. 

Panting, still trying to catch your breath, you say, “I haven’t the slightest idea as to what you’re on about, brother.” 

Brother—the title elicits a guttural sound from him, a low and heavenly sound that has your body acting of its own volition, your thighs squeezing together in search of friction. 

Aegon knew that, in this particular instance, your choice of wording had been a deliberate move. A reminder of what you were to him; his youngest and sweetest sibling, a girl that he was supposed to want to protect from evil men like himself, the kind that wished to ruin you in ways the Seven would never forgive. 

But you enjoy feeding into his sinful and insatiable desire to defile his sweet sister. And, in spite of the pain—from your head, from your shoulder, from your wrist—there’s a sly smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. A sudden sense of power rushes your veins, dulling the pain you’re feeling and replacing it with immeasurable satisfaction. 

You had control over Aegon—always. 

Even now, with a hand pinned behind your back and stone scraping your cheek, you held the most power, because you were the one that had worked to painstakingly orchestrate this entire situation; using today’s tourney as an opportunity to entertain a few pathetic men from House Greyjoy, going so far as to offer one of them your favor during the joust, and giving up a dance to another after the banquet. 

You had taken advantage of your brother’s innate jealousy, as well his own deep-seated insecurity that eventually you would find another body to warm your bed, another man to satiate your desires. Cruelly, you had taken advantage of him in hopes of eliciting this very response. 

You wanted him like this—frustrated and enraged, so irate and possessive that the only way he could possibly relieve the tension was like this; shoving you against a wall, hellbent on forcefully reminding you that your body had been made for him. 

“You’re insufferable,” his moan is laced with such animosity, such raw ferocity, “you think that you can do whatever you wish,” his head dips lower, nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck, “that you can flirt what whoever you wish,” your breath catches in your throat as you feel his tongue quickly swipe along your pulse point before growling, “without consequences.” 

His finger’s knot themselves further into your hair, keeping you from thrashing away from him as he sinks his teeth into you. A wave of pleasure and pain ripples through you at the sensation of his sharp cuspids pricking at the sensitive flesh. 

“Aeg-” 

More calculation, more deliberation—you knew how much Aegon loved to hear you whine for him, knew that it would cause another moan to slip from his lips, effectively loosening his jaw and relieving the pain of teeth prodding into your throat. 

He doesn’t stop, though, continuing to nibble and suck until there’s a bruise blossoming beneath his lips, always refusing to pass up on an opportunity to mark you. You writhe against him, further feeding into his fantasy of sullying his little sister by trying to squirm from his grasp. 

But, with his body still pressed so firmly against yours, caging you to the wall, you find yourself grinding against the firm imprint of his cock straining against his trousers. The subsequent whimpers that fall from your lips are not purposeful, instincts taking over once again as you try and shift your hips, rising on your toes and attempting to poke your ass out, doing everything you can to feel him against you. 

A thin bridge of saliva trails from your marred neck to his lips as he tuts softly, “So needy,” he presses a kiss to the growing bruise he’s left behind, the action so tender and doting. The hand he had raveled in your hair falls to rest in the curve of your waist, squeezing slightly as he asks you, “Tell me—do you truly think that those Greyjoy boy’s could have gotten you like this?” 

“Perhaps,” you tease him, intending to see just how far you could push him, “I’ve heard rumors about the Iron Islanders. Baela tells me that the Grejoy men are well-known for their fat cocks-” 

The crude claim has just hardly left your mouth before Aegon whirls you around, sending your back crashing into the stone this time, his hand enclosed around your throat. It’s nearly impossible to tell whether the sounds slipping from you are from pleasure or pain, but Aegon doesn’t particularly care. 

“Speak one more word about their cocks,” he snarls, his lilac eyes turning predatory as they narrow at you, “and I will carve your tongue out.” 

Your own gaze travels to his waist, settling on the dagger sheathed at his hip. Indolent as he was, you knew that your brother was capable of making true on his threat. For all the discipline he lacked, he still had the sort of temperament that makes a man deadly—with or without a weapon. 

But you trust him—more than you should—and you immediately recognize his threat as being an empty one. Aegon had no intention of ever pulling a blade on you; though he had certainly succeeding in implanting the thought in your head, your mind suddenly running wild with all of the ways that you might encourage him to use it on you later, wondering how it might feel to have him fuck you with the hilt. 

Aegon shakes you from these fantasies, though, squeezing your throat tight enough that your vision is going hazy again, leaving you blinking stupidly at him. “With only a few chaste kisses I’ve succeeded in turning you into a writhing whore,” he spats at you, the harshness of his tone making you flinch, “could the Greyjoy’s have done that?” 

There’s a wobble in his voice as he speaks the same, giving away his need for reassurance. You almost consider giving it to him, nearly finding yourself the victim of his soft, pouty lips, your body urging you to lean in and taste them—but it seems that your silence has a more desired effect, earning an entitled huff before his other hand is gliding down your abdomen, bunching up the silky fabric of your dress. 

“No,” he mutters, perhaps to himself more than you. “They could not satisfy you! No—they could not possibly know all of the right ways to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you!” 

You’re biting your tongue as his hand finally slips beneath your dress, his fingers swiftly diving between your thighs, curving so that he can make quick work of removing the smallclothes beneath—only to realize that you’re wearing none. 

He stops—his chest rising and falling in a series of many short, shallow breaths. His rage grows exponentially, his intrinsic insecurity leading him to believe that you had abstained for their benefit and not his. There’s a muscle feathering in his jaw and, for the first time in this encounter, you nearly consider searching for a means of escape, your eyes beginning to grow wide with fear. 

But then his lip trembles, lilac eyes growing glossy as he growls, “You are mine–” his palm is flat against your throat, squeezing tight enough to make you wheeze, “only mine.” 

His mouth is on yours before the declaration has even fully rolled off of his tongue, uttering the final word against your lips as he kisses you harshly, fervently, desperately—trying to prove himself to you, prove that he’s capable of making you feel a type of euphoria that the Greyjoy boy’s never could. 

Later—you would soothe his pitiful little mind, promising him that you had never actually taken an interest in the Greyjoy’s. Later, once you had been thoroughly bruised, bitten, and fucked, you would tell him the truth; that you had only ever wanted him. 

But, for now at least, you would take all the pleasure you could get from the dangerous, predatory touch of your jealous boy.

a/n - idk, i was bored at work and just ended up with this. not sure if i even like it, but i'm trying to get better at just posting the things i write instead of letting them die in my drafts

also if anyone wants to talk about hotd (writing about it or just watching it lol) please message me, i'm desperate for hotd friends before season 2 <3 <3

[lyriumcoloredskies]

Smitten (18+)

Pairing: Sanji x Lunarian!Reader WC: 2.1k Summary: You spent your life as Big Mom’s daughter, bending and catering to her whims. When your mother decides it’s time to cement the alliance with Germa 66, will you finally find something you’ve been searching for? CW: 18+ mdni, older woman and younger man, reader is Lunarian (so described with dark skin and black wings), smutty content with fluff mixed in, cowgirl/woman topping, unprotected sex, piv, creampie, forced marriage, no beta. AN: Listening to Agora Hills by Doja Cat. I got really sick with the 'vid-19 :(. Anyways here's some Sanji smut. Was really torn between this or doing mermaid!reader.

When Mama mentioned the newest marriage arrangement, you had been skeptical. The history between the Big Mom pirates and the kingdom of Germa 66 had always been cordial at best, despite most alliances between pirates and evil kingdoms ending up dotted in betrayal and violence. For the most part, the agreement between Mama and Vinsmoke Judge had been positively tame compared to the blood soaked alliances your mother previously held and subsequently broken. Nevertheless, you offered yourself up as the sacrificial bride, not wanting to see your sweet sister Pudding be married off so young. Your 30 years in Totto Land as Mama’s precious daughter had taught you that Big Mom always got what she wanted.

***

In the haze of the room, Sanji can feel his grasp on his mind slipping, his eyes desperately claw themselves onto a spot in the ceiling, hoping to find some clarity to keep him from drowning.

Sanji can barely recount the events of the last week. Sanji truly thought that his decision on Zou had been the safest one. It was only when Sanji found himself face to face with the life he left behind that he realized how in over his head he was. Every shred of Sanji’s mind told him that he was doing everything in his power to save those dearest to him, that this sacrifice was necessary, but every bit of his heart was screaming for his captain to come save him, just like he had done for every one of their nakama. Plunged into the misery of his past life coming back to haunt him, Sanji found himself dreaming, like he did when he was younger. In his thoughts he was free to dream of the seas, of Nami and Chopper’s loud laughter, of Luffy’s happy face every time he cooked him something new, and of the All Blue. Sanji dreamt endless dreams he once thought died with his mother, rescued by the kindness of Reiju, Zeff, and his dearest friends. Going over his dreams and happy memories, he steeled his resolve. No daughter of the Big Mom pirates would ever have his heart, no matter how gorgeous the lady might be.

Never did he think he would find himself like this, playing a balancing act on the edge of a razor, a moment away from tipping into heaven or hell, with a beautiful angel cruelly observing as he struggled.

A particularly hard slam of your hips back down onto his has him throwing his head back, mind wiped blank and eyes rolling back due to the pleasure of his soft spongy dick tip hitting your cervix. You walls envelope his shaft in such a warmth, Sanji swears he’s burning in the fires of sin. He sinks deeper and deeper into the pit of pleasure you offer him with your delectable warmth. Nothing but whimpers and moans escape his lips as if he was a cheap whore, not a groom on his wedding night.

Everything is too much. Sweat coats his body and Sanji is aware of the soft 800 count Alabastan sheets sticking to his skin. The same sheets are fisted in his hands, gripping the bed for dear life. Sanji feels as if every nerve under his skin is alight, static running through his veins as you continue your devilish ministrations on him. The soft velvety walls of your heat wrapped around his dick better than his hand ever could. Your supple skin is like the rich icing of the wedding cake served at your ceremony, tasting equally as smooth and saccharine under his attentive tongue. Sanji can still taste your slick on his lips from earlier when you sat on his face. A euphoric taste that had Sanji thanking whatever gods and Zeff for keeping him alive so he could sop up every drop of your divine arousal, his face serving as your throne.

Sanji’s eyes, half-lidded in lust, focus on your figure and he is lost in the beauty of it all. Your cheeks are flushed and the golden light of the room only serves to add a beautiful bronze glow to your inky brown skin. His eyes trace a bead of sweat rolling down your damp skin, he finds himself desperately wishing he could be the one to caress the curvature of your breasts so intimately. It only adds to the sinful sight of your breasts, bouncing up and down as you ride him at a mind numbing pace. The black wings on your back with feathers gleaming like a million obsidian gems, adds the finishing touch. You are an angel of lust, Sanji concludes in his mind, sent to break him in the sweetest and most painful way.

Oh, what misery, but oh what joy.

Sanji lets out another strangled moan as he lifts his head to get a better view of the obscenest sight.  His thick shaft parting your glistening folds, pistoning in and out of your sweet tight hole. He can spy the creamy ring gathered around the base of his shaft, your collective juices smeared all over his skin and pubic hair, the prominent vein on the front of his shaft glinting in the light of the room, only to be swallowed up by your greedy hole moving up and down on his cock with practiced precision.

You let out a small breathless laugh as you spy your new husband’s eyes roaming, lustful and dazed. Leaning over, but never breaking your pace, you capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss. His soft swollen lips close messily around yours, and you can feel his neediness. His tongue engages yours in a desperate dance, gliding around and begging yours for intimate contact. You allow your hands to roam over his well-built body, fingertips drawing imaginary lines over the well corded muscles of his pecs and torso, dipping into the valleys and mountains of his perfect abs. When you break the kiss, you hear Sanji let out a small whimper, the sound sending sparks of want and need right to the heat nestled in your belly. Your eyes catch Sanji’s and you’re enraptured by the sight. His hair is messy and strewn on the pillow, surrounding his head like a golden halo. His pupils are so blown out you can barely make out the blue ring around them. You take in the sight of his creamy skin stained pink, all due to your efforts. You can practically feel your ego humming in pleasure at seeing such a powerful pirate under you, writhing and mewling like a needy kitten.

“Feels so good doesn’t it - husband?” you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you emphasize the last word. The man looks like he wants to reply but you don’t let him, eager to continue his pleasure driven torment, you give his cock a squeeze with your core. Sanji lets out a choked moan which breaks into soft gasps when you start grinding on his dick while it’s fully sheathed inside of you. You throw your head back and moan, leaning back to angle his hard length to your g-spot.

You continue your grinding at a teasing pace, the tortured whimpers leaving Sanji’s mouth only serve to fuel your masochistic streak. Sanji is hypnotized as he sees your hips moving in sensual circles, the pace agonizing, pleasurable enough to stoke the fire deep in his belly but not enough to send him over the edge. He whimpers and begs, wanting to feel the unrelenting pace again, to feel your sweet hole milk and squeeze around his cock, like he was your little fuck toy.

“P-please” Sanji begs, screwing his eyes shut. His body squirms under you, hips desperately trying to press up to fuck into your warmth. “m-more” he whines.

Sanji opens his eyes, tears dotting the corners as he looks at you pathetically. The look on your face is dangerous and Sanji knows it. The teasing smile, flushed cheeks, and those eyes. The intensity of your stare has his heart fluttering. You stop your grinding, causing Sanji to groan in protest. His complaining stops when he sees you lean forward. You’re close enough Sanji can feel your labored breath on his skin.

In that moment he’s brought back to earlier today, the sight reminiscent of when you leaned in for your first kiss at the altar. Time had stopped then like it did now. The thought brings fire to Sanji’s cheeks and suddenly he feels too exposed, like you’ve somehow flayed his heart open, and he finds himself defenseless to you.

You press a soft kiss to his forehead, then one to his temple, and trailing butterfly kisses down his cheek.

“My sweet boy” you whisper softly, words only meant for him, his ears and heart greedily soak up the sound.

That’s when Sanji knows he’s utterly lost - drowned in your magic spell. He knows he will always be desperate to feel this love again, all-encompassing and vulnerable – one that can break him into shards too sharp to ever put back together.

Your kisses find their way down his strong jawline and then to his neck where you bury your head in the crook. He can smell the amber incense and vanilla of your perfume wafting around him along with the thick heady scent of sex in the room. It only serves to add to the dense cloying haze in his mind. Sanji’s sensitive skin can feel the soft mounds of your breast resting on his chest, the hard peaks of your nipples poking into him.

A loud moan leaves both your mouths as you begin moving up and down on Sanji’s ample length again. Sanji can hear your breath stutter, caught in your throat as a particular thrust grazes over your sensitive spot. Sanji wraps his arms around your waist, as if to anchor himself, in the fog of lust and emotions which he finds himself overcome with. Sanji moves in sync with your hips, thrusting upward, desperate to find your climax together. Sanji gives himself entirely to you, chasing his high as your chants of his name spur him on. Your moans grow louder, turning into needy mewling as Sanji begins to focus on hitting your spongy g-spot. Every thrust winding the coil in your loins taut.

Pinned down to Sanji’s chest by his strong arms, you’re powerless as he tightens his hold on you to take on a brutal pace thrusting upwards, hammering your cervix. Each thrust drives the air out of your lungs as you whine out in pleasure. Your eyes roll back and you squirm in his arms

“L-love it s’much S-Sanji” you babble out, words slurring together. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you try to find some purchase to steady yourself from the unrelenting pace of your husband’s thick cock. The sound of your nonsensical babbling and squelching of your pussy, is all too much for Sanji as he quickly finds himself nearing the edge of his orgasm.

“Yes – ah, f-fuck, my angel I’m s-so close” you hear Sanji say, his voice strained by effort and lust.

“M-mcummin’ Sanji” you cry out as the coil in your body tightened until it finally snapped, flooding you in depraved pleasure as you whine out Sanji’s name, burying your face deeper into his neck as your mind buzzes.

Your climax brings Sanji to his as your pussy milks his cock until he’s seeing stars. Sanji nearly blacks out as he thrusts one last time, hips lifting your body up as he tries to bury himself into the deepest part of your pussy before flooding you with ropes of his hot cum.

The two of you collapse into a mess of labored breathing and sweaty skin. As the intensity of your orgasms fades, your pounding heart and rushing blood slowly coming back to a regular rate. The both of you lay still, allowing several beats pass as you soak in the moment. Finally, you push yourself up, your chest peeling from Sanji’s, and you look up to see your new husband’s flushed face. His ocean eyes offer up everything to you and for the first time, you think you can truly see him. You offer Sanji a sweet smile, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek. His face flushes a beautiful rosy pink. You take in the sight for a few seconds before leaning in to close the gap between you and Sanji, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Mama may get everything she wants, but this time you think you’ve gotten something you’ve wanted for a while.

Someone you could fall in love with.

[scarlet-letter-s-for-soft]

Self-possession

She’s a shapeshifter, a shape-changer

Sloughing off her shell, no longer suppressed

Standing strong, staying soft

Surreal, a science fiction sweetheart

Supernatural specter, you’ll swear you’ve seen her, sometime before

Serpentine and sinuous in her seduction

Stretching, slithering over your sheets

She’ll steal your soul with her siren song

Sighs and sounds so sinful, so sweet

Sultry, sanguine, lay down your sword, your resistance slayed

She’ll suffuse your senses, slow and swelling

Sparks from her searing fingers, doubts smoldering, fears snuffed out

Spilling your secrets into her safe-keeping

Side by side in the silence, after

Shielded, never shared, she ain’t no snitch

She stalks your slumber, splices your sleep

Sister of Morpheus, somnolence personified

Saturday, Sunday, every single second

Sticking to your skin like sweat from the summer sun

Stroking, sucking, leaving you sated and satisfied

Submissive, not supine, never scared of her own surrender

Sure, not stumbling, a willing sacrifice

Supplicant, savior, servant

Saccharine sacrament taken on the altar of sex

Speaking scripture in the sanctity of the night, giving succor

She’s made of sudden stars, streaking across your sky

Silver sparkling in her sight, a sign, an omen

Sliding from your bed in the slanting moonlight, serene

Slick and smooth, she’ll slip away in the night, striking the scene

Stepping off the stage, striding back to herself

She’s a short story to you, a sonnet, a stanza

Swallowed and savored, special, symbolic

She’s a love story dedicated to herself, six years in the making

Stable and structured, on sabbatical from solitude

Subsumed, suffocated, stuffed down, never, ever again

XO Sarah

[evilkennedy]

dearly departed

pairing: chreon; chris redfield/leon kennedy

summary: lightly based off of this post https://twitter.com/lemonzzset/status/1680325153362673664?s=46&t=RNnErR_y_jTq_osclRMtfQ

leon’s fight with maria goes very differently. no actual spoilers for death island.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: death, blood, hurt/no comfort, just angst

Blinding, white hot pain seared through Leon’s chest and he immediately knew that he’d messed up. He’d taken one wrong step, didn’t move out of the way of Maria’s strike quick enough– He knew that he was in shock, wound going numb soon after impaling him, though he knew by the way his lungs burned, that it was fatal. He could practically feel the blood pooling unnaturally in the organs, shutting down his respiratory system way sooner than he could’ve ever prepared for. Even as the blood seeped from the wound, leaking from around the rebar that stuck out from his chest, the same bitter copper bubbling in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him even as he spat it out; The only person that was on his mind was Chris. He couldn’t leave him this way… couldn’t leave only a corpse of the man he’d loved for so long, so faithfully– He couldn’t do that to his husband. So even as Maria taunted him, spewing vile words about how she’d won, how she’d been able to avenge her father, Leon simply grit his teeth, holding onto whatever life he still had left with all of his remaining strength.

Somewhere within the haze of being injured, Maria had taken her leave, leaving him standing against the wall, large hands pressing against his chest desperately as though it was enough to stop the bleeding, as though his willpower alone would be enough to stop the bleeding. He knew better than to shift or move, knowing how quickly he’d drown in the crimson liquid still spilling from his lips if he’d decided to do so. Instead, he remained put, hoping to whatever could hear him that Chris wouldn’t be the one to discover his body. He knew that he’d never been so lucky, but a dying man needed to have some hope, even if it was futile.

There was a time when Leon would’ve welcomed death with open arms, earlier on in his life when he felt beyond hopeless, almost as though he were a bad omen to those around him, those that he cared about most. He’d lived a life of war, gunpowder and melancholy, all branded on his soul as though he were meant for the pain, as though his purpose was merely to serve, whether that be as a weapon or a good soldier, he wasn’t too sure. Now, that differentiation didn’t particularly matter, not when he’d tasted the saccharine divinity of the other’s lips, knew what it felt like to be loved– He knew now what it felt like to be seen, in a way he’d never been seen before. To Chris, he’d been gentle and kind… awkwardly funny and insanely smart for his own good. He never understood what Chris had seen in him, but it was too late to ask, too late to see himself as a man repented from sin. Time was against him and he was beginning to think he wouldn’t be able to apologize for his inadequacies as the pendulum slowed, slowing his mind right along with it as waves of white noise consumed his being entirely, forcing his fluttering eyelids closed as he lost his battle with consciousness.

–

“Hold on, where’s Leon?” Chris looked between the three women, somehow expecting them to know any more than he did, but they all gave him the same look, something akin to pity and uncertainty. It tasted bitter in the back of his throat, forcing him to bite back a curse as his deep brown eyes met his sister’s.

“Go find him, we’ve got this.” Claire gave him the smallest nod of reassurance, sending him off with a worried gaze as the rest of the group prepared for whatever was to come. This wasn’t over yet, that was all they knew.

The elder man didn’t think twice before turning on his feet, taking off to find his husband, mind racing a million miles a minute. Out of the pair, Chris had always been the more optimistic of the two. Honestly it was admirable how he could remain so hopeful in a place where he’d lost so many people, had consistently blamed himself for those losses, flashes of Piers and a brainwashed Jill entered his mind, right alongside his ex-captain, not that he’d had any say in the man’s corruption, but guilt had a weird way of settling into people’s chests at the most inopportune moments– Chris was certainly bound by those same chains regardless of the hope that remained steadfastly in place.

All he could hear as he ran through the prison was the slamming of boots on metal and the sound of his own blood raging in his ears. It didn’t take long to find the room in which Leon had been, Maria having left plenty of evidence of their fight even beyond the doors of the room. He had his gun drawn, as was appropriate when he didn’t exactly know what he’d be walking into, “Leon?” He called out, heart dropping at the lack of response. His terrified thoughts increased tenfold, what if he’d been kidnapped, what if he’d been infected again, what ifs rolling through his mind in waves, threatening to drown him if he wasn’t careful. He steadied himself, continuing forward into the room, sweeping it as he’d been trained to do. When all else fails, he could always depend on the stability of muscle memory.

Before he could call out the man’s name once again, he turned the corner of some debris that had been laying in the middle of the walk space, eyes immediately landing on a pool of blood before trailing their way up to find a very familiar set of boots standing directly in it, unmoving and horribly devastating as ice assaulted his veins, filling him with tangible fear. His head shot up before he could think better of it, throat constricting at the sight of his husband impaled by a metal bar, head tilted forward against his will, brown fringe covering up his face. For one nightmarishly long second, his world stopped, knees threatening to cave beneath his weight as his hands trembled, dropping the gun to the ground beneath him before his feet began moving on their own accord.

It felt like it had only been moments before when they’d been finishing each other’s sentences, always connected on the field just as they’d been connected in life and by love. Something neither of them could’ve ever expected, and the reason why was staring him directly in the face– safety was never promised, even if Leon didn’t wish to die anymore. Even though he’d gotten better, or tried, he’d still been ripped away from Chris’s grasp without hesitation.

“No, no, no, no, no, no– Leon, baby, please wake up. Please don’t do this to me.” His large hands flitted across the man’s still chest, not knowing where to begin with first aid if he’d still been alive. Deep down, he knew that Leon was gone, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to accept it easily. This time, his hands moved up to cradle his head, making him lean lax against the wall behind him. He was cold to the touch, paler than any man he’d ever seen before and the dam broke. He was supposed to keep him safe, he’d made that vow to him many years ago, to keep him safe from himself as well as the monsters that haunted their day to day lives– the ones that burrowed their way into their psyches in the night, Chris made a fucking promise; One he knew he’d broken as he held Leon’s lifeless corpse, tears streaming down his face freely as he desperately caressed his cheeks, similar to how he’d woken the man up for ages, in fear of startling him awake. Oh, how he wished that would have been the case this time.

“Leon, I can’t– I can’t do this without you, dammit– Y-You have to wake up, okay? I know you’re tired and I know you’ve been in this fight for too long, but I need you. I need you, so just… just stop this and open your eyes, baby, open them for me.” He cried, knowing that his begging was futile. The words were falling on ears that could no longer listen. He knew that, he did, but they were supposed to grow old together. He was supposed to listen to Leon gripe about each new gray hair he got… They were supposed to adopt once they retired, they were supposed to settle down together and be proud that they’d kept the world safe for so long, but what was there for him now? He’d return to an empty home, an empty bed, followed by the ghost that was the curse of his love– his care.

He reluctantly slid a hand down the other’s jaw, two fingers resting on his pulse point only to confirm his deepest fear. Leon was dead and there was nothing he could do about it.

Not caring about the blood that had long since dried on his body, Chris buried his face in his neck, crying as he held the man around his waist. He knew that he should get him down off of the pole, he knew he should’ve radioed for help, should’ve done something more, but all he could do was mourn as he held his life in his arms, what remained of his heart had frozen and died here too. He didn’t move until Claire found him and pulled him away. Everything after was a blur and all he could remember was begging for his love to stay and cursing at the sky for taking away his hope.

[crvwncd]

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         chienna filomeno,  27,  demi woman,  she / they.    announcing  the  arrival  of  MALAYA  of  house  DAGAREON,  the  PRINCESS  of  ESSOS.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  QUIXOTIC  and  PUGNACIOUS  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  horse rearing and astronomy.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  responsibilities seen and attempted of sharing with disposition far wiser than age, sprinkle of dusted sunlight following each footstep with lofty dreams scribbled to never be reality, familial loyalty stretched to the ends of time itself.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  THE EMPEROR OF ESSOS. 

basics.

full  name:  malaya  dagareon. title:  princess  of  essos.      alias(es):  aya. age:  twenty  seven. birthplace:  essos. gender   &   pronouns:  demi  woman,  she  &  they.           orientation:  bisexual,  leans  towards  women  /  femmes.          allegiance:  essos,  the  dagareon  family. spoken    languages:  high  valyrian,  common  tongue  of  westeros.   accent:  essosian. moniker:  the cuprite. date of birth:  feb 10th.

appearance.

faceclaim:  chienna filomeno. ethnicity:  valryian & andal. eye  color:  hazel  /  green. hair  color:  natural  black,  hints  of  brown  weaved  through. height:  five feet, seven inches. build:  slender. scent:  oranges, sunshine, & rosemary. allergies:  none. notable  characteristics:  dimples,  freckles,  small  scar  to  the  right  of  her  lips  from  falling  off  of  a  horse. dominant  hand:  left. clothing style:  essosian fashions.

introspection.

positive:  quixotic,  loyal,  poised,  charming,  helpful. negative:  pugnacious,  rigid,  judgmental,  self  sacrificing,  aloof. moral  alignment:  true  neutral. parallels:  ophelia  (  hamlet  ),  sansa  stark  (  game  of  thrones  ),  eloise  bridgerton  (  bridgerton  ). label:  the saccharine. mbti:  infp - the mediator. enneagram:  the helper. element:  air. star sign:  aquarius. temperament:  sanguine. deadly sin:  pride. heavenly virtue:  humility. godly parent:  demeter.

drives.

hobbies:  horse rearing, astronomy, & swimming religion:  r'hllor the lord of light personal goals:  return to essos without their family being as fractured as it is now would they choose family or power:  family, always.

familial ties.

parent one:  emperor illyrio dagareon.  relationship:  father.  parent two:  empress sarala drahar. relationship:  mother. prince kusa dagareon: brother.  princess adhika dagareon: sister.  princess catraena dagareon: sister.  prince dantae dagareon: brother. 

brief  history.

not the eldest, not the youngest, yet the perfect in between. the last daughter of the emperor, privy to fanciful whimsey that elder siblings weren't afforded ━━ acted as if opposite all the same. malaya convinced herself to be a listening ear, one that could be pages of a diary personified for the blessings, gratitude, lamentations of their siblings ; each act she committed pondered upon to the last as to if it would have lasting consequences for her siblings to suffer. at no point was it required for you to mature to a woman so quickly, things of a child pushed off in favor of what others ; the elders, did. revered with a younger sister's inability to see their siblings to do wrong, chosen parents despite your own alive, and well.

horses, astronomy, swimming are the few things to spark childlike joy in malaya's eyes, where they find most people outside of their family to be quite exhausting. manners of the court required by position, practiced and employed with ease though many claim there is often a hint of a bite to the youngest dagareon princess's words. not many can call themself a friend to them, often unaware of their standing with malaya as they prefer to deal with many at a healthy distance.

connections.

best friend - name: platonic.

a muse from essos or one that frequents there often enough for them to have formed a bond. malaya relies on this person to help with decisions, and is a rock for them as they are for her. inspo : x, x.

lover ( s ) - name: romantic.

malaya prefers women / femme presenting people, however, there's occasionally been others that they've been attracted to. these wouldn't be serious and more of just a fling.

ladies in waiting - name: platonic.

either chosen by their parents or picked by malaya herself, these people are part of her entourage that know malaya the best, and it's rare that they're seen without each other.

[shipwreckedshadows]

Formalities

Derry Girls Good Omens AU

Sister Michael x Janet Taylor

[AU concept], [Part 1], Part 2 (you’re here)

--------------------------

George paused at the slightly evil knock that came from the other side of her office door. The edges of her lips quirked upwards. The demon had come over to play.

“Come in.” She allowed.

The door pushed open and the George took stock of the demon’s appearance. They held themself boldly, with a high head and a saccharine look on their face - different from the tense frown they wore during assembly this morning. She raised an unimpressed brow at the missing inches on their pinstripe skirt. Though the pointed pumps and open top button were a nice touch. 

“Evening, headmistress.” The demon greeted.

“Lets forgo the pretense, shall we.” George said with a bored look, “We’re both at least bright enough to recognize one of our own - or well, one of us is.”

“Fine.” The sweet smile dropped and the demon’s face fell back into its resting, unimpressed expression. They closed the door and took a seat in front of the grand desk.

“We may as well get the formalities out of the way.” She sighed, extending a hand across the desk, “George Michael, archangel of heaven.”

“Janet Taylor.” the demon answered as they shook hands, “Would that be archangel as in capitalized or lower-case?”

“Lower-case.”

“I figured. Pronouns?”

“She/her. But any will do. Yourself?”

“She/her as well.”

“What is your business here in Derry?”

“I teach math to high-schoolers.”

“Your other business Miss Taylor.” George goaded impatiently.

“Obviously,” Janet rolled her eyes, “I’m here to coerce sin.”

“By sullying the young, impressionable minds of teenagers? I know hell hasn’t got any standards, but I at least thought you all took a bit of pride in your work.”

“How obtuse - but then again you are an angel. Have some faith, Sister. I’m not bewitching children. The salary covers rent and the benefits aren’t too bad.” Not an outright lie but Janet was not prepared to reveal the secret of her trade, least of all to an ally of Heaven. 

“Very well.” Sister Michael said after a moment of deliberation, “I suppose I won’t stand in the way of what’s natural.”

“You aren’t going to try and stop me?”

“No? Why on Earth would I do that?”

“I supposed Heaven put you here to get rid of me.”

“Please. I don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with demons.”

“They pay you?”

“They don’t.”

Janet gave a grunt of understanding.

“Honestly,” George continued, “I don’t know what it is with Hell. You acted out once – frankly, I’m not sure why everyone still kicks a fuss over it. We’d be better off getting over it.”

“Well, our lot did decide to directly oppose God’s ethereal plan.”

“Yeah, I can see how that might have something to do with it.” George amended, trailing off to entertain a private thought in her head.

“So,” Janet said into the silence, “is it safe to assume we’ve reached an understanding?”

“I would say so. Keep doing your thing and I’ll keep doing my thing. Business wise, we stay out of each other’s way. Are there any terms I’m missing?”

“No, I’d say we’re pretty clear.”

“Good because that question was entirely rhetorical. Now,” She reached into one of the bottom drawers of her desk and pulled out a very old, very expensive bottle of red wine, “would you care for a drink?”

-----

Notes: George really likes collecting vintage alcoholic drinks.

[copiousloverofcopia]

Hey there ghesties!!!

Here is a new fic written for my ghestie @sistersaccharine featuring her OC and Copia at their wedding!!!!

Thank you so much for letting me write this for you sister! Hope you all enjoy!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Stay With Me...Forever

The day has finally come for Sister Saccharine to marry Copia. Won't you be our ghuest at the wedding?

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

It was early morning, the dew still heavy on the grass and the sounds of birds chirping filled Saccharine’s ears. She was still in her night robes, tucked away on the sacred olive tree, hidden deep within the Abbey’s Forest. She sat perched on a large, crooked root that rose up from the ground, like the finger of a corpse–contorted and old. Surrounded by the forest which was brimming with life all around her. Sunlight pouring in from the spaces between the trees and the warm breeze blowing gently through her hair.

Saccharine closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, exhaling into a smile as felt soft tufts of fur nudging her cheek. A small fawn, pressing his muzzle against her as she carefully brought her hands to the top of his head. Her animal friends had begun to gather in this secret place. One she kept just for herself.  

“Hello little one. My, how you've grown since the beginning of Spring.” Saccharine smiled as she gently patted the fawn’s head. His mother, not too far behind him in the woods. The sweet sister fiddled with the hem of her nightgown. Her whole body, feeling like it may burst into a million tiny pieces. The excitement brewing inside her was overwhelming, but she had never been happier. 

It was obvious Lucifer had blessed them with a beautiful day. The late summer heat—only a mere suggestion. The welcomed pleasant breeze, keeping it at bay. The sun too was shining brightly in the sky—it was perfect. Oh, so perfect. 

“I have been waiting for today my whole life.” she whispered, speaking her story to the trees and the animals that surrounded her. “I grew up feeling the longing in my heart for true love. Searching for that one person who made my heart sing.” She continued, watching the small family of rabbits huddle together beneath her in the shade of the root.  “Someone to grow old with…”

Suddenly Saccharine hopped up off the root. Careful not to disturb the blue cohosh that was covering the ground. The layers of her robes, flowy gently as she began to twirl around. Her dance, a tribute to the massive tree who had always been her shelter. A dear confidant she could always confide in. All the flora and fauna of the forest, envious of her happiness. 

She dropped to her knees a moment, whispering her salutations to the rabbits and giving the mischievous dormouse a pat. When she got herself back up on her feet, she let out the most content of sighs. Brushing the bit of dirt from her robes and turning to the deer once more, continuing on with her story. Ever so eager to share her joy with her friends. 

“...and you know what little one—I’ve found them. Today…well today is the day I marry him. My sweet Papa.” She smiled, now catching the attention of the birds. One landed upon her, allowing itself to be gently brushed with the pad of her finger. He was a small sparrow that bore a heart-shaped marking in the feathers of his chest. One Saccharine had known since he was a fledgling, barely two flaps of his wings from the nest.  

All the animals were like family. It was because of that she had to invite them. Devastated when Sister Imperator told her that they would not be allowed to “run amuck” within the Abbey. Only for Copia to devise a plan for them both to be wed in the woods. Surrounded by all those she loved and those who loved her back. 

It truly was a dream come true, and now it was only hours away, already planned down to the smallest detail. From the beautiful fabrics of crimson and onyx that hung from the trees to her beautiful gown. Breathtaking with its billowing fabric, black as the night, and laced with corset at her waist. The sleeves like the petals of flowers–sleek and flowy. 

The ceremony grounds were covered in what felt like an endless array of flowers. Though they were far from where she stood now, she swore she could smell their scent. Soft and lovely as it was carried on the breeze. The hint of the black baccara roses with small accents of white and black calla lilies that were freshly picked from Primo’s garden. Painting lush images of them in her mind. 

It would have been a surprise had she not snuck out with some of her best sisters for a late-night ritual of their own, hoping to bless the next day's ceremonies. Coming upon the grounds by accident, Saccharine's eyes filled with delight as she saw them. Primo’s magic, keeping everything thriving and ready for until after they were wed. Everything was waiting for her–all that was left was the hair, though she knew not what to do with it. 

She tried pulling her hair back and away from her face. Wondering if she should wear it up or down. Copia loved it in all its forms, but Saccharine knew that down was his favorite. He told her down was the best at framing her delicate features. 

The birds took note. Hopping around the big tree as they sang to one another. Speaking in chirps and tweets that only they could understand. “What are you doing, silly birds?” Saccharine laughed as they returned to her. Each of them, flowing over her head. Bestowing her with a small sprig of thorns, from a nearby bush, tucking them neatly into her hair. Eventually their efforts had formed a crown. 

“It's perfect.” she told them, hoping that by some miracle it would last until the evening. Then it hit her, she had completely forgotten the time. “Oh my! I am running behind! I will see you all tonight ok!” she shouted back into the trees as she bounded from her sanctuary and back to the Abbey. There were people waiting for her there—after all today was her day. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back at the Abbey there was a boom of activity. Saccharine felt a bit overwhelmed as she made her way through the countless siblings and ghouls. All of them focused on their assigned tasks—delighted to do their part to prepare for the big night. As she made her way to her room, Saccharine almost took out both a brother and a pair of sisters that were heading to the Great Hall with boxes of champagne glasses. Then only moments later, she bumped into a group of ghouls, their claws filled with clusters of folding chairs, on the way to the ceremony site. By the time Saccharine reached the stairs to the siblings' quarters, she was relieved. Dabbing a bit of sweat from her brow before making her way upstairs to her friends, whom she knew would be waiting anxiously for her arrival.  

When she arrived in the siblings’ wing, Saccharine could see Sister Ariadne was waiting just outside the doors. Tapping her toe and clearly over having to wrangle around the ghouls all morning. “Where have you been? Everyone is waiting for you so we can start.” she teased, ushering Saccharine beyond the doors and towards her room. She had been rushed off so fast that when Ariadne stopped just short of the door, Saccharine thought something might be wrong. Before she could say anything, Ariadne slipped off the mother of pearl ring from her hand. Taking Saccharine’s right hand and placing it on her finger. 

“What is this for?” Saccharine asked. Ariadne smiled and squeezed tight to her sister’s hands. Ariadne’s heart, so full of happiness for the dear couple. 

“This is your something borrowed, I’ll need it back after.” she winked as she opened the door of the room. The two of them, heading inside to find it completely buzzing with energy. Prime Mover Ren and Nova, chasing after one of Ren and Secondo’s littles ones, while Sister Belladonna and Rosemary were fussing about with the dress. It looked more magical than Saccharine remembered, hanging from on the dress form. She could hardly believe something so beautiful could exist. 

“Saccharine! You’re here!” Nova shouted gleefully as she ran straight towards her, nearly taking out Gnocchi under her feet. The little ratto, managing to squeak its way past Ariadne and Saccharine into the room. 

“Oh! You darn rat!” Nova yelped, annoyed at almost tripping. Her arms held wide open as they found their way around Saccharine. Nova, embracing her tightly. Tail wagging with contentment as the ghoulette spoke again, “Now the real fun begins.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the same time, though much more than a few steps away from the siblings' wing, Copia was pacing the floor of his Papal suite. Fiddling anxiously with the buttons on his jacket. His eyes, unable to stop staring at the Monstrance clock on the mantle. Counting down the moments until he’d be with her once again. Praying to Lucifer that he’d be spared from sweating through his suit.

“You’re going to drive us crazy fratello, would you just sit down?” Terzo barked, bouncing his leg on the floor and running his hands through his hair. The third Emeritus brother slumped into the chair like a bored teenager.  

“I know…I know…” Copia began, forcing himself to sit down beside Secondo. Secondo, groaning as he swirled the ice in his scotch glass and scooted forward to the edge of the sofa. 

“Leave the man alone Terzo, this is a big day for him.” he chided. Nodding his head to Copia and raising his glass to him. “Not much longer now.” he said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“I am just a bit nervous is all. Was it like this for you...when you married Ren?” Copia asked.  

“Si, though I managed to not wear a hole in my rug.” Secondo laughed.

"Just the hair from your head." Terzo jabbed. Secondo rolling his eyes at him.

“...there is nothing to worry about.” Secondo assured him. 

“You are right.” Copia agreed, taking in a deep breath, feeling like he might finally be able to relax. He exhaled, allowing his weight to sink down against the back of the sofa. Graciously accepting the offering of a swig of Secondo’s scotch. 

“Always is…smug bastard.” Terzo teased, when suddenly the sounds of scratching came from the front of the room. Copia pulled himself back up and made his way to the door, opening it to reveal little Rigatoni standing there. His little head perked up and his whiskers twitched to the gentle pats of his Papa’s hand. 

“Ah topolino, I have been waiting for you.” Copia said, pulling from his jacket a small piece of parchment and tying it around the rat’s neck. “You take this to her now, si?” The tiny squeaks assuring Copia that he understood his task. 

“You're sending the rat off with a little love note. Turning the vermin into carrier pigeons now, eh?” Terzo teased as he sent Copia a wink. 

“Something like that.” Copia smiled back. Carefully lowering Rigatoni onto the floor so that he might be on his way. 

“We should head down, I’m sure that Ren is more than ready for me to relieve her of the children…they must be driving her crazy by now.” Secondo cringed, setting down his glass and tapping Terzo’s shoulder to get him up too. “You’ll find out one day soon.” Secondo teased, watching Copia’s face tint to red. His freckles, lighting up like Christmas lights upon his cheeks.   

“Let’s do this.” Terzo stretched, raising up out of the chair. Secondo turned once more to face Copia before the three of them headed out. 

“Ready to become a husband fratello?” he asked him, Secondo surprising him with a short embrace. Copia felt the tears beginning to well in his eyes. Trying to shake them off quickly before they’d disturb his well-placed Papal paints. 

“More than anything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hold still, I don't want to poke you in the eye now.” Ren chuckled as she began to line the upper lashes of Saccharine’s eyes. The rich black liner accenting her already gorgeous, doe-like eyes.  

“Sorry.” Saccharine replied, letting Gnocchi down on the vanity. The rat scurrying over the top before bumping into the container of translucent powder. The poor little thing, sneezing as the powder cascaded in the air. 

“Oh.” Ren laughed as Saccharine hurried to help dust off Gnocchi. Setting her back down on the ground between them. 

“What are we going to do with you?” she smiled as she watched the little rat take off. Ren worked quickly to finish up Saccharine’s look. Though she hardly needed the adornment. Saccharine could hear that Rosemary was approaching from behind her. The sweet mysterious sister, pulling from her habit an old copper flask. 

“I was told by Ren you would need something old and well…” she explained, handing over the flask, its age betrayed by the patina. “...this is thought to have the blood of the old one inside it.” Rosemary smiled, “...can’t get much older than that. Here you should carry it with you.”

“Thank you.” Saccharine beamed, sniffling back her tears of gratitude as Nova too came towards her. The sparkle in her eyes, telling Saccharine that she too was excited to give her something. “Do you have something too Nova?”

“I do!” Nova exclaimed as she spun Saccharine around in her chair. Both of them reflected in the glass of the mirror. "Listen girl, the birds are great and everything, but we should spruce you up just a bit. Then you can have this" the ghoulette smiled, pulling out the most beautiful and sparkling obsidian comb, ".…a gift from Terzo and I. We picked it out just for you. It can be your ‘something new’.” she explained.  

Saccharine was overwhelmed with gratitude. Her friends were literally the best anyone could have hoped for. Always there to support her, nourishing her happiness as she always did for them. All of them, more like family than anything she’d ever had before. 

She hugged Nova tight, allowing her ghoulette friend to help even out the lay of her hair. Polishing it up far better than the birds could have done. Saccharine, feeling more than blessed that she had the kind of friends that had wanted to make this day special for her. Her thoughts, remaining in that place of contentment and joy as they dressed her.

Helping lace her up and button everything in place. Saccharine’s breath, stolen from as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Ren, quickly grabbing a tissue to help keep the bride-to-be from running her makeup. Drying her eyes as Saccharine took it all in. 

This was the woman who would become Copia’s wife. Papa Emeritus the Fourth’s lover for all eternity. Hearts bound forever by fate. Sanctified under the eyes of Lucifer, once she walked down the aisle. It seemed like a dream. One she never hoped to wake from. Marveling at herself in the full-length mirror while the other’s made sure she was all good to go. 

“Oh, and one more thing!” Sister Belladonna yelled, running to grab something from the other room. Returning after only a moment, quickly wrapping a grucifix rosary around Saccharine’s neck. The blue sapphire stones and onyx, perfect shades to compliment her Papa’s vestments. “I made this for you. It’s in Papa’s colors and after all…a bride needs something blue.” She smiled. 

“Oh my. I absolutely love it.” Saccharine beamed, her hands coming up to touch it. Feeling its weight against her collar, “It's perfect.”

“It is.” Ren smiled, “...and I have something for you too. Saccharine instinctively held out her hand convinced she knew what was coming. She had been given her something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue—all that was left was the sixpence for her shoe.

“My sixpence I assume.” Saccharine asked her. Ren took hold of her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze before she continued. 

“Not exactly.” she winked, reaching in her pocket and pulling from it a small totem made from rose quartz. A symbol of fertility and happiness.

“Oh it’s…” Saccharine began.

“May you be fruitful and multiply.” Ren winked, Saccharine’s face blushing at her words. A tiny nose that resembled her own and a pair of mismatched eyes surely belonged to Copia. Perfectly upon a small little face, flashing in her mind. Her heart began to flutter when her attention was drawn to a noise coming from the floor. 

“Eek...eek…” Rigatoni called, standing at her feet. Saccharine noticed that he had come with something small tied onto him. She bent down to pick him up, pulling the little rolled up parchment from his neck. 

“And what do you have little one? She asked. The group of sisters, gathering round to see what the mysterious note would contain. 

“What is it?” Nova asked, as the others all waited patiently. She unraveled it, starting down at the words carefully written across it.  The smile, spreading her face told them all they needed to know.

“It’s a note from Copia.” she explained, her heartbeat quickening in her chest. Cheeks aching with the intensity of the pull of her smile. 

“Go on, read it, read it!” Sister Ariadne begged her. 

“Saccharine, la mia bellissima futura sposa. The hours we have spent apart have only made me more sure of us. Sure, that my life means little without you by my side. I want nothing more than to see you from the moment I wake, until I close my eyes at night. Your smiling face, my constant companion. Tonight, I prove to everyone the love that gives meaning to the beat of my heart. Binding us forever in the eyes of Lucifer. Until we wed my love—C” Saccharine read, desperately trying to hold it together. Her Papa’s words were everything she needed to hear and more. A profession of love that made Saccharine’s heart sing. 

“You’re a lucky girl, that's for sure.” Sister Rosemary commented. 

“Yes…yes I am.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The hours had passed and the time she had been waiting for had finally come. Saccharine and the rest of the sisters were ready to leave, when there was a knock at her door. It was Papa Primo dressed in his best vestments and a sweet smile on his face. His heart, full at the sight of Saccharine in her wedding dress. An image of grace and dark beauty—one he would never forget. 

“Sisters…if it’s alright with you all, I will take it from here.” Primo assured them. Handheld out for Saccharine to take it as he led her out the door. She was comforted by Primo, who had become somewhat of a father to her. She steadied herself, drawing in a deep breath and closing her eyes to help ground herself. Her hand held tightly to Primo’s. Tears balancing along her lash line before she quickly wiped them away. 

While she had never been happier, the day was bittersweet for Saccharine. It wasn’t that long ago that she imagined this moment—though much different than it was now. Engaged to her once beloved Jasper, and content to live out her days in the small town she was born in. Days spent dreaming of things that enchanted her—books and fairytales of worlds that she longed to explore, convinced that they might only ever be fiction.

Now the world had all been opened up to her. Promises of the universe, all found in the Dark One’s name. Guided into the warmth and thrilling embrace of the darkness by her sweet Papa. Their love, sanctified not only until death, but beyond eternity—until the end of time itself. 

Though she didn’t miss Jasper, she did miss her mother and father. An aching, nagging pain had been rooted in her chest from the day she turned away from them. Following her heart, choosing to leave them behind. Primo could sense it. Knowing what held her thoughts and her heart. The eldest Emeritus son, pulling her close and placing a small kiss upon her forehead.

“I know you miss them piccola. They would be so proud of you.”

“I know.” she sighed. 

“I know I am not your father… but would you do me the honor of allowing me to walk you down the aisle?” Primo asked her, the tears hitting her once more. 

“Oh yes please.” Saccharine cried, hugging Primo so tight he couldn't breathe, his words and warmth–healing the wounds she carried inside her heart. Knowing that Primo would always be there for her even when her parents could not. 

Primo dismissed the sisters so that he might spend a moment alone with Saccharine before the ceremony. The lot of them giggling and waving as they spilled into the hall. Primo placed his hand on Saccharine's, as they sat in silence. A welcome moment of calm amidst the chaos of the day. Primo feeling the trembling of her hand.

"You alright piccola?" He asked her. 

"I'm just a bit nervous." She admitted, smiling as Primo began chuckling to himself. 

"Completely normal, I suspect." Primo smiled, "I know my fratellino will make you very happy…and you him. There is nothing to worry about, I promise."

"You always know just what to say to make me feel better Papa." She smiled up at him just before Primo pulled her in close for a hug. After a tight squeeze, he released her. Brushing himself off and helping Saccharine straighten out her dress.

"Now, do you have everything you need?"

"I think so…" she told him, a pensive look on her face as she brought her hand to her chin.

"Ah, well I know one thing you're still missing."

"Oh?" Saccharine asked as Primo reached into his vest. Pulling from it a silver coin and placing it in her hands. "What is it?"

"This, mio piccola, is an obol. It's an old coin, meant to assure safe passage across the river Styx…today it shall make do as your sixpence. For good luck." Primo winked. Saccharine was overcome with emotion, practically pouncing Primo with a hug.

"Oh, thank you Papa! I love it!" She cried, carefully wiping the tears from her eyes. 

"Alright let's not mess you up before the ceremony or the Prime Mover will never let me hear the end of it." Primo smiled, rolling his eyes. "Ready?"

"Ready."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Primo and Saccharine down the main stairs. Each step, bringing her closer to eternity with Copia. The empty halls of the Abbey, surreal as they walked through it. Saccharine’s heart beating faster and faster. Soaring as the sound of music grew closer. 

A symphony composed just for her. Each and every note written by Papa himself. She tried to focus on her breathing as they reached the edge of the woods. Saccharine, closing her eyes and allowing Primo’s hand to guide her the rest of the way. 

The Processional had begun. All of the guests in their seats, turning to watch as Secondo and Ren’s little ones, the flower girl and ring bearer, came bounding down the aisle. Followed closely by their parents and dressed in the most adorable little vestments and taffeta dress, handsewn just for the occasion. Then came Nova and Terzo, both of them starry-eyed at one another as they walked. Making no secret that one day Saccharine and Copia would be back to celebrate vows between them.   

“We’re up.” Primo whispered. Saccharine opened her eyes and tried to take it all in. It was truly magical. The clearing in the woods, filled with siblings and ghouls. Everyone dressed to the nines and ready to celebrate as their Papa took his bride. The trees, adorned in splays of fabric and lights. The lush floral arrangements, Primo and the ghoulettes had created, breathtaking to behold. Their sweet scent, filling the space—soft and perfect. And the warm humming of the guests, a gentle background noise as the song changed to announce her arrival. 

Despite all the beauty that surrounded her, the only thing she could see was Copia. Her sweet Papa, standing at the end of the aisle. Smiling ear to ear as he watched her approaching him. It felt like both forever and yet only a blink, before Primo relinquished her hand to Copia. The two of them now standing before Mr. Saltarian, ready to begin the officiation of their ceremony, while everyone took their seats behind them. 

While they both knew they were supposed to look at Saltarian, Saccharine and Copia couldn’t help but steal glances at one another. Barely staving off tears of joy from their eyes. Drowning out all the world around them until Saltarian snapped them back to attention. Clearing his throat to alert them before speaking to the crowd.

“While we might have been made in God’s image…it is only through Satan's grace that are we given dominion over the earth and its creatures. Given truth and power over ourselves. Made free to commit sin. It is through our lust and love we shall fill the earth and subdue it. That through our unions we shall honor him—the Morningstar. Today siblings, ghouls, and Clergy—we have gathered for the most unholiness of ceremonies. The union of Papa Emeritus the Fourth, and our good sister Saccharine.” Saltarian smiled, his words filled with hope and love.

“Nema!” called out the guests. Both Copia and Saccharine, smiling at one another as things continued on. Mr. Saltarian spoke in length about love and commitment. How it was the duty of a Papa to shepherd his flock—and that his wife would help with his guidance. Giving him the strength and inspiration for the task. All things, though meaningful and well intentioned, the couple could only vaguely remember. Both too engrossed in one another’s eyes to care.

Copia was stunned in her presence. Saccharine was always beautiful but seeing her there before him now was like nothing he had never known before. A beauty that surpassed the visions of hell itself. Saccharine was overcome too, wondering to herself if Copia had ever looked this incredibly handsome before. His suit, even more impressive than anything he’d ever worn on stage. 

When it came time for their vows, both of them struggled. Choking back tears and trying desperately to convey what no number of words ever could. Copia went first, his palms a bit sweaty as he tried to hold Saccharine’s hand. Nervous that he would fumble his words. 

“Saccharine. Ever since the day in the garden, I have been bewitched by you. Enchanted by your gentle kindness, and compassion for all who surround you—even the scruffiest of rats,” Copia chuckled, the notes of tears heavy in his voice,” Your beauty—undeniable. When you held my hand the first time. Helping this old man rise from the dirt, covered in petals and brush. My heart was forever captivated. Only growing more in love as I listened to the gentle sound of your voice, my still new sorella. Allowing me to help guide you into your siblinghood and all the while stealing my heart. There will never be a day I don’t worship you. A day that I don't praise Lucifer for bringing you into my life. And I will spend the rest of eternity showing you just how much I love you. For whatever may come for us in this life, let it be known that since that day—my life has become yours.”

Saccharine sniffled back. Unable to help the tears from pouring out. Silently running over her cheeks as she squeezed Copia’s hands. Wanting to kiss him so badly, though it was not yet time. She began her vows. Her voice, shaky, but certain. “Copia, my dear sweet Papa. I had to leave so much behind me. Shaken to my core as I began life anew here at the Abbey. Still lost in my own fears and doubts. While I may have helped you in the garden that day, it was you who became my savior. Having only known me a moment, you lent me your whole heart. The best of intentions and a smile on your face. You guided me to the meaning of this life and into a happiness I might have never known. I fell fast and hard, only growing to love you more as we traveled this path together. I want nothing more than to spend my life with you. This one and the next. Declaring my love for you before any god that might hear it—I am yours now and for always.” she cried.    

Not a dry eye in the house as they say. The words shared between them, piercing the hearts of their guests. There was never any doubt that they belonged together, meant for each other as if their love had been ordained from the beginning. When the cosmos formed, and the stars burst into life. 

Saltarian bent down to help Ren and Secondo remove the rings, from the small black satin pillow in little Christian’s hands. Untying them carefully and handing one of the small golden bands to Copia. “Now repeat after me and place the ring on Saccharine’s finger. I, Papa Emeritus the Fourth.”

“I, Papa Emeritus the Fourth.”

“Do take this sister of sin, Saccharine, as my unholy wedded wife.”

“Do take this sister of sin, Saccharine, as my unholy wedded wife.” Copia repeated, his voice trembling. Saccharine too, finding it hard not to embrace him. Wanting to hold on to him for dear life. 

“To love and worship, in all ways. Until the stars burn from the sky.” Saltarian continued. Everyone, watching as Copia slipped the ring onto Saccharine’s hand. A gentle wind blowing past them. Saccharine, working to push back a wayward stand from her face. Copia was never more in love. 

“To love and worship, in all ways. Until the stars burn from the sky.” he finished. Saccharine, repeating the same rites as he. Their faces, hurting from the intensity of their smiles. Powerful emotions aching in their chest.   

“It is now, in the eyes of Lucifer, the father, the Antichrist and son, and the unholy spirit…I pronounce that you are husband and wife…” Saltarian declared, but before he could get the rest out, Copia dipped Saccharine back. Passionately taking her lips onto his. A roar of applause, erupting from the guests. Cheering loud and jumping for joy as the confetti, made from rose petals, went flying all round in the air.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The evening had only just begun. The newlyweds, celebrating along with the Abbey with an incredible reception. The ghouls had managed to throw together a makeshift dance floor and helped to DJ some music for everyone to dance to. The evening, spent with delicious food, wine, good conversation, and well wishes from all who stopped at the head table.

Copia and Saccharine had already been on the dance floor for several songs. Copia, twirling her around and showing her off like the prideful husband that he was. Ever grateful and yet still surprised that he had found a love such as this. Saccharine too in awe of them, occasionally wondering if she might wake from it all—finding it had only been a dream.

As they made their way back to the table, Marianna and Christian came barreling down through the crowd. Knocking into Saccharine as Copia quickly grabbed her before she fell. Saccharine shrugged it off, bending down to meet with the children face to face. Prime Mover Ren, running closely behind them. 

“Are you both alright?” Saccharine asked them, pulling the children close and giving them each a hug.

“Sorry Auntie Saccharine, we’re ok.” said Marianna. Ren, taking hold of both her children's hands.

“I’m so glad. You two be careful now.” Saccharine told them, smiling up at Ren who was mouthing a 'thank you' to her for being kind to them. Copia was immediately taken back. Mesmerized by watching her with them. The thoughts of one day Saccharine tending to their own children, tugging at his heart strings.  

“You are very good with them, si?” Copia said, both him and Saccharine blushing red. An unspoken thing said between them. Though neither would admit it just yet. 

“They’re just darling.” she replied as Secondo arrived to help Ren with their brood.

“Well, I don't know about that.” he snickered, Ren, quickly giving him a jab at his side. Both Copia and Saccharine, amused at the situation. A drop of lovely, in an already overflowing glass of happiness. Another slow song on the queue as the night continued on. The whole of the Abbey dancing the night away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a couple hours later when Copia brought his mouth to Saccharine’s ear. Whispering softly and sending a rush of tingling through her as the breath escaped his lips. “Think they will miss us Amore?” he asked her.

“Oh…ah…I’m not sure.” Saccharine told him. The thrilling heat hitting her full force. Her heart beginning to pound harder inside her chest.

“I think they’ll manage, follow me–” Copia assured as he pulled her through the crowd. Rushing her outside the large doors of the Great Hall and into the small opening of the woods. The well-worn spot, filling with the small orbs of red light as they approached.

“Oh my.” she smiled as the bats fluttered above her head. The rats, pouring forth from the bushes and a small horde of spiders, trickling over the limbs of the trees to greet them. The beautiful creatures of the night, too light-shy to have visited in the day, now happily came to see the newlyweds as they fled deeper into the forest.

When Copia was satisfied with the spot, he took Saccharine back into his arms. Dancing with her under the moonlight. Spinning and twirling together in the cool night air. Relishing that it was just the two of them together. 

Saccharine laid her head on Copia's shoulders as they swayed. Copia humming to the songs they could just barely make out being played. Both of them, thinking that they could spend forever dancing in each other's arms. After a short time alone, Copia stopped. Taking Saccharine's hand and giving it a peck before speaking. 

“Mia principessa, let me show you something…” and before she knew it, Saccharine was being rushed back out of the woods and into the nearest part of Primo’s garden. The string lights, guiding them into an opening. In the middle sat a small canopy, made from bundles of black and red fabrics, and the suggestion of light coming from inside.

“What's all this?” she asked him, as Copia pulled back on it to help her inside. As Saccharine stepped in, she was delighted to find that in the middle was a mountain of pillows and blankets. Plush and plentiful. Surrounding a pair of juice boxes and some candles in the center. 

“I had the ghouls set this up for us, but it was my idea.” Copia beamed, proud of himself for conjuring the idea.

“I’ll have to thank them.” Saccharine smiled, planting a small kiss to Copia’s cheek. Copia, quickly picking up one of the juice boxes and handing it to her. 

“Heh…I know you’re not a big wine drinker.” he smiled, helping to open the straw. It was so sweet of him. He really had thought of everything. Even the view of Primo’s garden from the canopy was beautiful. The vivid colors from the flowers surrounding them, visible from every angle. Saccharine was honestly shocked any blooms remained after all that had been used in their ceremony. 

It was perfect. Everything was absolutely perfect. While it had all been so wonderful, the day had also been overwhelming. The celebrations and the ceremony were everything she could have wanted and more. She was grateful now for it to be just the two of them to be together. Alone in this small space, surrounded by the flowers.

Saccharine let out a sigh, relaxing into the pillows and slipping the shoes off her aching feet. Copia quickly took her foot in his hand and massaged it. Doing everything he could to help her get comfortable in their temporary abode. Both of them, smiling as the stress of the day began to melt away. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“That's good.” she hummed just as he picked up her other foot.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. Heels are great to look at—not so great to spend the day in.” Saccharine laughed, Copia soon joined her as he removed his jacket and slipped out of his own shoes. Settling down on the as he settled on the best of pillows beside her. 

“Feeling good enough to sin…Mrs. Emeritus?” Copia growled as he ran the back of his palm along the swell of Saccharine’s bosom. Bringing with him a tingling up her spine and a breath, took up sharply in her chest. The familiar ache, beginning to grow between her legs. 

“Copia!” she squeaked before becoming lost in his kiss, so soft and passionate. His hands, traveling gently beneath the fall of her dress. Fingers tracing the inside of her thigh. A journey they had well-traveled before, and meeting with her heated core. Teasing her folds through the fabric of her panties.  

“Si, la mia bellissima moglie. Won’t you allow me to show you how much I love you?” he asked, his voice begging and thick as honey. His eyes, falling over her. Etching her in his memory for the times when they would have to part. His lust and love for her, growing stronger inside as Copia watched the grucifix rosary rise and fall. Heavy on her chest.

“Sempre, mio ​​bellissimo marito.” she replied, slowly undoing the buttons that lined his shirt. Fingers carefully working through them and teasing the skin beneath.

“You’ve been practicing.” Copia hummed, his lips returning to hers. When she was finished, Saccharine pushed the shirt off from his shoulders. Running her fingers through the nest of hair that covered his chest. His eyes staring directly into hers, as he left out a breathy moan.

“I want you Copia. I need to feel you inside me. Make me yours.” Saccharine whispered, brushing her lips against his ear and sending a throb straight to his sex. Copia’s eyes widening as she ran her hand down his belly and over the growing bulge in his pants. Stroking him through the fabric. 

“I need you sweetheart…so much.” Copia whimpered, hungry for the feel of her against him. Saccharine turned around, pulling her hair off to the side, and allowing him full view of her back. Copia, kissing marks of black paint along her shoulders and her neck. Nimbly working his fingers to pull through the ties of her corset. Loosening them up enough so that he might remove her dress. 

“Kiss me.” Saccharine commanded as she turned back around to face him. Copia, pulling her to a stand, helping her to step out from her dress. His lips, never leaving hers. He caressed her face in his hands before allowing them to fall over her supple breasts. Kneading them in his hands as his tongue slid into her mouth. 

Saccharine worked to unzip his pants, both of them moaning and groaning. Their lungs, in need of air, though neither wanted to stop. She took hold of his sex and stroked him gently. Copia moaning at her touch. Aching to be inside her, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to last long. 

He lifted Saccharine up in his arms. His bride, following his lead as she wrapped her legs around him. The two of them, giggling and kissing as Copia carried her over to the best spot in the canopy. Setting her down gently on her back as he relished her naked body before him. The lights from the fireflies, beginning to dance in the air. 

“I would unmake and remake the world for you, if you’d only ask…mia dea oscura.” Copia growled, kissing down her neck and over her breasts. Taking his time to worship her before drawing a nipple into his mouth. Sucking gently as his fingers made their way to the precipice of her thighs.

“Oh Copia.” she moaned, unable to control the lift of her hips, moving to meet with his hand. Closing her eyes as her husband gently slipped his fingers past her folds. Pressing tight against the spot ribbed flesh deep inside her. A spot only he would ever know. Copia, quickly having her cumming against his hand, having learned exactly how to touch her. 

She shook and cried out. Fingers, digging half-moons into Copia's shoulders as she fell from the height of her orgasm. Her husband, looking sexier with his smug and satisfied grin. Engrossed in how glorious it was to see her like this.

Open and blossoming for him. Her body, belonging to him—and his to her. He moved above her, gently nudging his erection against her folds. Using the fruits of his efforts to aid his glide. Pushing himself in slowly until he was fully seated inside.

"Oh sweetheart, you feel so good." Copia groaned, his face flush and his mouth hung open. Saccharine looked deep in his eyes, her body already beginning to pulse once again with his movements.

"Oh Copia…You do too." She moaned. Saccharine, no longer the shy virgin he deflowered but his lover, his partner—his wife. Unafraid to show him just how good it felt to have him inside her. Her body tugging tightly against him with each thrust of his hips. 

"Ah!" Copia growled as her body squeezed around him. His movements, more intentioned and his stride picking up in pace. He wanted nothing more than to make her cum again. Ready to catch her on the way down when she fell from the heights of their passion. His mouth, returning to her breast.

Within moments, Saccharine's second orgasm quickly crashed over her. Copia, pulling her up onto his lap as he continued thrusting inside. Her hand, flying up and over her mouth as she came—hard and fast. Praying to Lucifer that she'd been able to contain the sound before alerting a whole pack of ghouls. 

She was putty in his hands. Copia, having to help hold her upright as he kept moving. Both of them, completely covered in sweat and the remnants of his paints. Her arms wrapped around him, while tears poured down her cheeks. Overwhelmed by the sheer ecstasy of their lovemaking and the emotions swirling through her.

"Copia! Ah! Cum with me!" She cried out, staring deep into his eyes. Copia could see the beauty of all the world wrapped up in them. Watching her in rapturous bliss, the likes of which only he could bring her. Her thighs, tightening up around him as his shaft began swelling inside to fill her. Both of them trembling together, held in each other’s arms.

"That's my girl, my beautiful wife…make me cum" He whined, completely losing control of his rhythm and allowing himself to let go fully as he came inside her—just as she came for him. 

"Oh. Sweet. Lucifer." Saccharine said, breathy and exhausted, before falling limp into Copia's arms. Both of them panting against each other. Their first time as husband and wife, proving to be one to remember. Neither of them, able to speak. Still too deep in the haze of pleasure.

Copia moved them both. Cradling Saccharine in his arms as he laid down beside her. Her head, resting on his chest and the scent of his cologne filling her nose. Then from the sea of heavy breathing and shared heartbeats, came Copia's voice. The sound, sweeter than ever before to her ears. 

"I love you." He smiled before kissing her forehead.

"I love you too Copia…promise me something ok?" She asked, scared that this happiness might someday end.

"Anything amore."

"Promise me that you stay with me…forever." Saccharine cried. Copia held her closer, feeling the warm tears falling in his chest.

"Forever."

Notes:

(Mio) piccola- (my) little one

mia principessa- my princess

la mia bellissima moglie- my beautiful wife

Sempre, mio ​​bellissimo marito- Always, my handsome husband

mia dea oscura- dark goddess

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Even the greatest of men can be consumed by guilt.

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Haunted.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) None.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Nothing sexual or anything like that. Mentions of death and stuff, just things relating to Ghost lore.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 557 words.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Easing myself back into writing fics with some Ghost stuff! Idk man, writing for other stuff atm (especially Stranger Things) is making me feel some pressure to impress and I just wanna be able to enjoy writing again instead of feeling like I have to meet people's expectations and shit.

One of the issues that Copia hadn’t considered he would face when he became Papa Emeritus IV was overwhelming guilt. After all, he hadn’t been the one to kill his predecessors. No, no, that was Sister Imperator. In her great wisdom, she decided that for him to become Papa the others needed to be dispensed of. At the time, he had given it little thought when she approached him and informed him that he would face no pushback from the Papas of the past when he ascended. Perhaps she had spoken to them and convinced them that it would be in their best interests to cooperate and welcome him into the fold with arms open wide.

But then the whispers of the siblings of sin crept into his ears. Rumours bled into the ministry about what had happened to the missing Papas, soaking into Copia’s conscience. He foolishly chose to believe that they were wrong and that they had merely been sent away on various tasks that had been assigned to them by Papa Nihil.

Rumours became reality when he peeked into the elongated boxes in the back of one of the vehicles the Clergy used to transport items from one ritual venue to another. Terzo’s limp body looked to be sleeping, but Copia knew better; he wasn’t a moron. He didn’t need to look in the other two boxes to know that the other missing Papas laid inside, embalmed and smelling of the saccharine sweet scent of death. The faint line across Papa III’s neck engraved itself into his memory, a silent threat of what could become of him if he didn’t succeed or do what the Clergy expected of him.

Copia’s guilt seeped into his nightmares after that. It wasn’t every time he slept, but it was often enough that he had woken up on more than one occasion to one of the ghouls standing at the side of his bed, head tilted in soundless curiosity. Cumulus was the one he saw more of when this happened, a cup of herbal tea clasped in her claws in offering. He always took it and sipped it while she watched, likely making sure he drank it all. She offered no comfort other than a single cup of tea when he woke from a nightmare, but to Copia it was more than enough.

The soul-scarring guilt of the other Papas being killed because of him always came to a head on stage. The moment Rats would begin to play it was almost as if he could feel the presence of others besides the ghouls and the crowd that congregated for each ritual. Those other presences would edge their way towards him, no matter where he moved to on stage, and that sickening shock of cold would plunge into his organs and bones like fingers trying to tear at his essence. Whispers that only he could hear would penetrate his mind, reminding him that he was the reason they were all dead and that he would be nothing if it weren’t for Sister. He’d see their painted faces sneer at him from all angles and feel their breaths against his skin until he cried out a “no!” and ran from the stage in despair.

Perhaps if he had spoken out against his mother, he wouldn’t be haunted so relentlessly.

[edelweissacermacrophyllum]

Intro to Abram, another psalm, and strange advice from a god

Genesis 11:10-13:18, Psalm 5, Matthew 5:21-42

My app that tells me what bible passages to read each day also has a title for each day. This one is, "Directions for life". It's oddly saccharine, especially given the old testament passage for today.

In comes Abram, a nomadic herder in the levant who makes his way to Egypt. He thinks that because his wife is beautiful, the Egyptians will kill him to be able to own her, so, scared for his own skin, he says that she is his sister and so she can go and be a part of the harem of the Pharoah without guilt. Abram was given gifts in return for his 'sister' and became very wealthy.

The secret comes out eventually because Pharoah's household is cursed because of this relationship. Pharoah is remarkably quick on the uptake and asks Abram to leave. Abram leaves a wealthy man and everything is fine.

What, then, are we to take from this? Does God not care about the experiences of women? Abram is blessed with wealth for, essentially, selling his wife. Sarai has no say in the matter at all. Some will say that the bible is descriptive, not prescriptive in its record of history, meaning that these are events, not examples to be followed. That's fair, but even so we can come away with a picture of the character of God. We know humans are messed up, but God isn't supposed to do wrong. Of course, there may be more stuff going on here than is recorded. Abram may have acted better than is implied, and so on. I haven't in the past been comfortable with God cursing people, but I recently encountered a story of a young person that I know being roofied and taken advantage of. I consider myself a pacifist, but I was very angry about this and, though I wasn't in a position to, wanted to hurt the person responsible. And this doesn't mean I'm not still a pacifist, but if we consider God capable and responsible for administering justice from a position of absolute authority, we can consider him allowed to do this. Maybe. I'm no philosopher.

The new testament passage is very prescriptive, as Jesus tells people how to live, and expands on the rules for living a decent life into principles for living a good life. Don't just avoid murder, avoid being angry. Reconcile with people without taking things to courts. Don't call people 'Raca' (An ancient term of contempt which is never translated, but which I have come to translate in my head as 'dumbass').

Don't just avoid cheating on your spouse, but guard your thoughts and eyes. "Anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart." Then a passage of what is hopefully hyperbole, where if your hands or eyes cause you to sin, you should remove them.

Then Jesus says that men aren't allowed to divorce their wives unless they've been cheated on. (Wives weren't allowed to ever divorce in that culture) Earlier translations of the bible word this passage as if it were the woman's fault, but mine says that if a man divorces his wife, she becomes a "victim of adultery" rather than an "adulteress".

Jesus says not to swear oaths on what when consider sacred or valuable. Simply say yes or no.

Jesus says that we should repay evil with good, and to be kind to those who hurt us. Modern interpretations of the 'turn the other cheek' passage describe this as forcing someone to strike you as an equal, or forcing you to commit public indecency, and so on. This may be true, but whatever the social context, thsi describes Jesus ultimate committment to pacifism, nonviolence, creative resistance, and voluntary surrendering of ones own power. He also demanded that we do the same.

[lazyscience]

throwing another anecdote about choice out there into the water.

In 1984, I was suffering through sixth grade and adolescence in Catholic school. Worldly child that I was, I'd read that Judy Blume rite of passage, Are You There God It's Me Margaret. I had written my first unnecessarily gritty fanfic as a school assignment (Sword of Shannara, mercifully pre-Internet). On the other, my BFF and I still played with My Little Ponies when we got home.

(that fic was violent AF, the kind of thing that you'd probably get a visit to the counselor for nowadays. But for Christ's sake - ha- they let us read aaaalll kinds of Lives of the Saints. Especially martyrs to purity. I had already internalized Maria Goretti, Agnes of Rome, Agatha of Sicily, Catherine of Alexandria, little girls torn apart, beheaded, casually brutalized, dead because they refused to be raped, held forever in God's love and raised above the sinful masses because of it.)

(rape is not sexual, either, as was clearly understood by providing this snuff porn to tweens who still played with My Little Pony. but, we continue.)

In health class, I don't remember which Sister taught that day - I don't think was Mary Ruth, who was a WAC in World War II and wore Franciscan brown like olive drab and noncom stripes on her shoulder, or Esther, who was frail and fluttery and easily flustered. It might have been Mary John, who was calm and kind and left the next year replaced by a lay principal. Could have been the saccharine Sister Peggy - yes, a wholeass nun who went by Peggy instead of Margaret - who liked neither me nor questions. It might have been Sister Eugenia, on loan from the Jesuit's sister order, who validated my already questioning streak by assigning us a list of events to find in the Gospels only to find that they didn't all have the same events or same stories, and her answer to that was "The Bible was written by men, who are not all-seeing or all-knowing, and prone to tell stories in the way that fits their biases."

(we used to speculate Eugenia was one of the last girls who "had" to go to a convent. Maybe she was. If you get through this, remind me to tell you the "video rock" story. Explaining MTV to someone who had gone into the convent before television was a trip.)

I don't remember, because mostly I remember the appalling content. The graphic and bloody pictures of dismembered parts with tiny hands and feet the only things recognizable, the ominous pronouncements of damnation of the mother - and of the hapless infant, who would never see God because of being killed before they could be baptized. How such a selfish, destructive and violent act was unforgivable, couldn't be allowed to happen! Abortion, the worst crime of them all. And we must always, always speak out about it, no matter what. They gave us all these tiny feet pins, so we would remember our goal. To save those tiny babies who had no one else.

(If that shit had been in a movie, it would have been rated R. And this was when the Church still taught that unbaptized babies would go to limbo, not heaven. Why? probably some BS about original sin. The single most corrosive concept anybody has ever come up with, the idea that non-baptized were automatically stamped Damaged Goods.)

I didn't tell my parents; I felt...wrong. About seeing those Freddie movie basins of parts, about having just barely learned what a period was and what girls were supposed to do instead of submit to defilement. And babies living a bleak existence of unending loneliness forever?

...bullshit, some 12-year-old part of me thought. That is absolute horsehockey. Why would God blame the baby? If he's all-powerful and all-knowing, he knows the baby didn't do anything wrong. Also, in First Confession classes we were taught even Hitler could possibly get to heaven if he was really, really sorry for what he did (which Sister Mary Ruth personally doubted "but only God knows for sure, and he WILL know, so you'd better tell Father S. EVERYTHING at Confession, and do NOT confess unless you are Really and Truly Sorry."). We were supposed to believe Hitler could go to heaven, but not a baby?

The next day at school, a classmate who HAD told her mom came to school and very quietly at recess handed folded paper pamphlets out to the other girls in class. These gory pictures were in black and white, but equally violent. They were of young women lying in blood-blackened sheets who had died using coathangers, or other illegal methods of abortion. And I thought - if the baby and the mother died, then that was two souls that were damned, and if the mother didn't live how could she be sorry? If we were supposed to ask God every single day, like we did every single day when we prayed our decade of the rosary, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive others their trespasses against us, and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil" - whose fault was this, really?

Amy Coney Barrett is the same age I am. I do not doubt got the same talk I did, if not from her deacon father, from her Sunday school teacher somewhere in Louisiana. But she believed every word, because it allowed her to imagine beauty and justice in blood spent for heaven, instead of cruelty and waste.

I took the pamphlet. I put the creepy feet pin in the trash. And I stopped believing in a God who thought the best thing a woman could do for him was die, and would punish her unborn child if she didn't want to. And I haven't confessed, because I'm not fucking sorry.

[mykingdomforapen]

Xu Wenwu/Ying Li ficlet

When an immortal falls in love with a mortal, heaven rebels. Practically speaking.

This was the story of Niulang and Zhinü, the lowly cowherd and the Jade Emperor’s daughter. She loved her mortal husband too much to return to heaven, and the celestials would have none of that.

Come home, Princess, they urged her, dressing threats in saccharine concern. Come back to where you belong.

Zhinü, the immortal princess, the weaver of sunsets and storms, looked up to the expanse of heaven overhead in its golds and greens. She looked to the earth, her husband’s cottage with the thatched roof that he bound together to keep the rain from falling on her head, and the family of cows that they milked and named together.

No, she said to her father and her people. This is my home. I have made it with him, with my hands upon his, and it is mine.

The celestials snatched her from earth, and Niulang raced to heaven to reach her. With her comb, the Queen of the West created a river of stars to separate them for eternity, borning the Milky Way. Not even light could reach the other side.

The lovers were left heartbroken and shipwrecked on distant stars, except for the seventh day of the seventh month when magpies formed a bridge with their wings across the unreachable universe for Niulang and Zhinü to reunite. When it came to the plight of star-crossed lovers, it was only ever the mortal world that showed compassion.

-

Xu Wenwu has seen the rise of nations and the death of legends, but never the birth of stars.

For all his thousands of years, the Milky Way faithfully arched overhead in silver and purple streaks. Of course, over the modern years, the metropolis lights dimmed the expanse, but Xu Wenwu was older than many of those cities standing. He knew that at the end of the day, the stars always outlasted everything,

He said this once in passing to Ying Li, who laughed at his soft-spoken melodrama. You don’t have to worry about that here, she said, stretching herself out underneath the bamboo thicket. You never run out of stars in Ta Lo.

Anyone could mistake her for a fairy, a goddess, an incarnate star. But to Xu Wenwu, she was simply and incredibly Ying Li, who hogged the sweetest Saturn peaches to herself, who missed her grandmother every day, and who guided his hand to pet a kirin for the first time. When she spoke to him, he stripped himself of every iron-plated moniker and title that kings would envy, and in return he was simply Xu Wenwu, the boy from a village whose name never made it into the history books, and he dared to not mind.

“I know just the place we can build our home here,” she said to him, eyes bright with excitement. “The lake is so clear that you can see the fallen trees like a window. And there are jackfruit trees that we can eat from in the summers. You’ll never want to leave.” Her lips curled into something more devious. “And I didn’t even have to steal your clothes to make you stay.”

“I was still soaked through,” Xu Wenwu pointed out, and she grinned with unbridled pride for herself and delight for him.

But when they knelt side by side before Guang Bo, her sister Ying Nan chaperoning them in quiet support, the dream of jackfruit trees in the summer was swiftly strangled.

“This killer has no place among our people,” he said. “He should have no place in your heart either.”

Ying Li’s fists tightened on her knees. Xu Wenwu did not move, nor did he lower his gaze from Guang Bo’s. Guang Bi looked upon Xu Wenwu in such a way that reminded him of his father, of which thousands of years did not dull the memory.

“And yet, it is his,” Ying Li said. The shake in her voice was almost imperceptible. She had never asked for anything of her own until today. “And I don’t want it back.”

“You were brought up to protect the world from dangerous threats and now you’ve grown soft on one,” Guang Bo retorted. “You know what he is capable of, what he has done with the Ten Rings.”

“I know he has sworn them off for me,” Ying Li said.

“The word of a killer,” Guang Bo said gravely.

“Of a man,” Ying Li retorted. “With skin and soul just like anyone else, Guang Xian Sheng. Just like you. Do you think you can never change either?”

“Even if a tiger changes its stripes, the village will hunt it for killing their children,” Guang Bo said. “The bloodthirst will come for him. And there is too much at stake here in Ta Lo to let it come.” His face hardened, but for Ying Li there was almost pity. “He shall not make a home here.”

Xu Wenwu knew, the moment he knelt before another man, that they would not accept him. He lived a thousand years and seen more than any of them knew, and still he waited for the ghostly ache of a childhood scar upon rejection, the father-shaped bruises that faded only visibly. But it did not come, because Ying Li saw the lowly man beneath the gilded glory and still thought him worth defending.

Ying Li was speechless, lips stiff and eyes shining with hope deferred. He risked reaching a hand to brush hers, should it be the last chance he could. Before the impenetrable bamboo thicket rushes between them, the chasm deepened by his insurmountable sin. There were calluses on her warm fingertips. He wanted to squeeze them and keep them warm at night.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

Xu Wenwu leaned in close, silent acceptance upon his breath, until he realized that she did not look at him when she said it.

Guang Bo rose from his seat, realization dawning on him. Ying Li locked eyes with Ying Nan with grief and resolution. Her sister paled with understanding, looking upon Ying Li and Xu Wenwu with understanding and betrayal and sadness all at once.

“Li Mei,” Ying Nan said, her voice cracking.

Ying Li held Xu Wenwu’s hand, her fingers interlacing with his until they knitted together like rope, only meaningful when twisted together to be a bond, or an execution, or both. […]

[wnterreign]

⟨  kylie bunbury.  cis woman.  she/her.  33.  ⟩  we welcome alicent arryn nee royce to king’s landing , the ruling lady of the vale. keep an eye out for their cunning nature, they tend to cover it up by acting devoted. rumor has it they are neutral to the peace treaty, and their loyalties lie with house arryn and house royce. you’ll know it’s them when you get flashes of saccharine smiles that hide the serpent within ; praying to the gods that they forgive the sins you’ll commit to protect the ones you love ; and a girl raised on ambition alone. 

BASICS.

FULL NAME:   alicent arryn neé royce. ALSO CALLED:   alicent, ali, lady alicent.  TITLES:   ruling lady of the vale. AGE:   thirty-three. GENDER:   cis female, she / her. ORIENTATION:   heterosexual, heteroromantic.

BIRTHPLACE:   runestone, the vale. RELIGION:   faith of the seven. SPOKEN LANGUAGES:   common tongue.

STATUS:   married to rodrick arryn. LOYALTY:   house arryn and house royce.

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE:   devoted. ambitious. pious. shrewd. compassionate. protective. NEGATIVE:   cunning. proud. wary. machiavellian. deceitful.

MORAL ALIGNMENT:   lawful neutral/evil. TEMPERMENT:   sanguine.  MBTI:   isfj - the defender.

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM:   kylie bunbury. HEIGHT:   five feet, five inches. HAIR:   long, curly black hair. EYE COLOR:   black.

FAMILY

FATHER:   ruling lord arnold royce ( 57, npc ). MOTHER:   ruling lady alayne royce neé pryor ( deceased at 54 ) SIBLINGS:   utp royce ( older brother ), utp royce ( younger sister ), utp royce ( younger sister ), and utp royce ( younger brother ).  HUSBAND:   ruling lord rodrick arryn. EXTENDED FAMILY:   house arryn ( related by marriage ). utp royce nee tba ( good sister ). septa arenna ( aunt ). 

HISTORY

growing up, alicent dreamed of following her aunt’s footsteps and joining the faith as a septa. septa arenna, despite setting aside the royce name, had been permitted to serve as a governesses in her brother’s household and therefore played a large part in raising alicent and her siblings. however, as the second born child and first born daughter that was never truly an option for her, and her parents quickly directed alicent onto the path they deemed suitable.

for house royce had always been ambitious, and lord arnold was no exception. he didn’t want house royce to be remembered solely as another vassal house to the great arryns. they had been faithful steward but now it was their time to shine.

alicent, like her younger sisters after her, was raised to marry a lord from a great house. while her family focused on the three great houses within the northern kingdom, they hadn’t limited themselves to their own borders. another might have grown to despise their parents not only for the pressure but the ambition that ruled over every day, leaving little room for a parent’s love; however, that was not alicent. she took her parents’ ambitions and made them her own. the dedication she’d once thought would be given to the faith was instead given to her family, her studies, and, one day, her husband’s family. no matter what it took, she would not falter. 

she was only a teenager when she left runestone behind her for the eyrie. for many years she served faithfully as one of lady mayra arryn’s ladies-in-waiting. a genuine friendship did form between the two ladies. eventually alicent became one of mayra’s closest confidants. there were faint whispers that she, following her father’s instructions, went out of her way to ice out some of the other ladies in waiting to advance her position amongst them, but whispers proved nothing. nor did they change the genuine fondness she had for the lady and the rest of the arryn family. 

marya’s death impacted alicent greatly. she’d always known that one day they would go their separate way, marya remaining in the vale while alicent went to live with her husband, she’d always believed that their friendship would outlast the distance. but now marya was dead. alicent refused to believe it was an accident and to this day still believes the truth is far more sinister than an accident at sea.

she expected be called back to runestone but instead her parents insisted that she stay in the eyrie. they hoped that the new ruling lord would decide to marry her. they even, with alicent’s approval, called off her current betrothal for while they’d approved of the match in the moment, it paled in comparison to the possibility of marrying the now ruling lord of the vale. alicent didn’t mind. beyond her own ambition, she had grown very fond of the arryns during her years with them, and she was mourning too. marya had been both a friend and an older sister figure. even politics paled in comparison to the grief she felt. not only did alicent want to support the remaining arryns in their time of grief, but she didn’t want to mourn alone either.

eventually, she did return to runestone and couldn’t help but feel ashamed at having failed to secure another match for herself, if not with lord rodrick then with another lord from a great house. however, she held her head high regardless. her parents began the search for a husband again, but the suspicion around the arryn tragedy made them now mroe reluctant to look outside the northern kingdom, limiting the prospects. marriage, however, was not yet in the cards while tragedy was. her mother took ill and despite the maester’s best efforts she eventually succumbed. talk of marriage vanished.

a year ago, her father was beginning the search again, this time determined to see his eldest daughter wed, but he didn’t have to look far. it was rodrick arryn who asked for her hand and, delighted, alicent accepted. despite her ambitions to wed well, she had partially feared marrying a stranger, but rodrick was certainly no stranger. she had always admired the man, often whispering to marya that he was quite handsome and charming, and her affections for him quickly returned upon their reunion. 

she’d imagined a lavish ceremony to celebrate her wedding, but the events in king’s landing caused the union to be slightly rushed and she found herself quickly pushed into her new role, especially as chaos erupted. however, alicent hadn’t wavered, remaining committed to being a steadfast support not only for her new husband but the entire vale. 

EXTRA

alicent is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve her goals and to protect the people she cares about. she will get her hands dirty if that’s what it takes and is both a very active and capable participant in the political game, having been taught out to survive it since she was young. she had her regrets and doesn’t always like how the game must be played, but at the end of the day she will do what must be done. 

she hides her cunning nature very well - almost coming across as understated, nothing more than a dutiful lady. it also helps that she isn’t heartless. she cares deeply for her family, both the royces and the arryns, and those she considers friends. she also cares about the people of the vale, often spending time with the common folk and ensuring that they are taken care of too. 

is still very dedicated to the faith and often visits the sept to pray at least once a day. she also does dedicate herself to their teachings as best as she can; however, it sometimes proves difficult to balance her beliefs and her ambitions and cunning nature, especially when the latter almost always wins out. 

fiercely loyal to the arryns. even before her marriage to rodrick, she wholeheartedly supported the family. now that they are her family she would do anything to guarantee their safety and the safety of the vale. if anyone tries to harm them, she will show them no mercy.

loves to go hawking and has a pet falcon that she’s raised since it was young.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

LADIES-IN-WAITING  —  they’ve only recently known each other and so alicent is still a little wary of them. however, since they’ve been in king’s landing and have had to rely on each other more she’s warmed up to them more. 

PERSONAL GUARD  —  could have been recently assigned to protect her since her marriage to rodrick or someone who her father told to protect her following marya arryn’s death.

BROKEN BETROTHAL  —  the person she was betrothed to until shortly after marya arryn’s death. while her parents were the one to break off the engagement, alicent didn’t protest and even supported the decision, viewing the chance of marrying rodrick far more advantageous. 

[seraphdreams]

First Fight & Family Secrets w/ CB Keisuke

When Baji said that he’d be working late canceling yet another date,she’d decided to take the girls (i.e Ken’s girlfriend and her only female friend Kira) up on the offer to go to the club and let loose a little. University life wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns especially when you had to work to ensure that you could finish your degree and maintain decent grades.

It had been almost two hours since they got to the club and one since they started feeling the buzz. When Con Sus B by Arcángel,De La Ghetto, Dalex and Elian Bless comes on Kira is on the table in their section singing and dancing sensually. Hyping her up and dancing along with her they continue having fun until a familiar dark haired male is pulling her off the table.

“Is this what you guys do for girls night?” Manjiro huffs tugging his jacket off and pulling it over Kira’s frame. Mikey’s so deep into the lecture that he’s giving them that he doesn’t notice the drama his barging over was about to cause.

Long tuned out of Mikey’s overprotective rant her eyes focus on the head of raven hair pulled back into a man bun with a few loose strands framing his face. She’d know that fucking smirk and side profile anywhere and boy was he in deep shit.

“Working late my ass!” She grits out grabbing the bottle they had ordered continuously sipping as she pushed her way through the crowd to get to their section. Mikey mutters an ‘oh shit!’ when he notices where her attention drifted and is trying to signal them but no one’s paying attention given that none had seen what Mikey saw.

Saccharine smile on her full lips she saunters into their section. The blood red satin spaghetti strapped dress with the slit on the side left nothing to the imagination and was something she’d picked out especially for her boyfriend. The deep v-cut of the backless ensemble and it’s plunging neckline that displayed the gold that littered her neck especially the thin Cuban link with ‘Keisuke’ resting pretty in the middle was enough to garner the attention she wanted from the men in the booth.

Keisuke looks over briefly and turns his attention back to the woman next to him only to do a double take because he knew he had to be seeing things. She takes a seat between the brothers she notices as Ran and Rindou. Both momentarily speechless because fuck she looked like sin incarnate. Her usual curly hair was now pin straight -due to the silk press she’d gotten for her date - and flowing down her back. Minimal makeup with bloody red lips to match had both brothers eating out the palm of her hands.

Soon after Mikey and her girls are joining and instantly they follow her eyes to the female draped up on Baji. Mikey shoots an almost apologetic look to Baji but the little chaotic fucker lowkey wanted to see how this would play out. From the moment he’d told Baji about the job and the role he’d be playing he had warned him about the consequences if he didn’t tell his girlfriend what was up.

Purposely she leaned in closer to Ran just to get a rise out of Baji but also because she couldn’t hear him well over the bass in the club. “Are you here alone?”

“I’m with my girls, needed a break from life. Also just found out that my boyfriend’s been meeting roblox built bitches under the pretense of working late.” She says loud enough for Baji to hear, a pout on her lips as she bats her eyelashes at Ran.

“He must be one hell of a fool if he’s entertaining others when he’s got you at home.” At this point if steam could escape from Baji’s ears and nose it would because he wanted nothing more than to break Haitani’s fucking hands and nose. He’d deal with Sanzu, Rindou and the consequences of those actions later.

Ran has one hand on the exposed skin of her thigh and the other draped behind her as he leans in closer to her. Baji barely registers that he’s moving until he’s grabbing her by her upper arm, pulling her away from Ran and towards the exit.She roughly shrugs him off and the entire section falls silent when he turns to look at her.

“Peach, I am not in the mood to deal with your bratty ass tonight. Tell your girls goodnight and let’s go,now!” He spites out sharply.

She rolls her eyes at him and scoffs. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that? Check ya fucking tone pendejo. I was having a conversation and if you’re ready to leave yuh know where the fucking door is.”

Baji’s jaw ticks and at this point everyone is silent waiting to see what’s about to play off.

“Tsk, insolent whores will never learn their place will they?” A voice that she wanted to never hear again speaks up. The clicking of heels indicates the person’s movement and when they finally stand in front of her, she feels her blood boil. Given the dim lighting of the section and the fact that she was focused on Keisuke she didn’t pay attention to the the bitch hooked on his side like a clothes rack.

The look she gives Baji is one he’s never seen before. It’s like he was looking at a completely different person. “Outta all the bitches to hoe around with, you chose wreck it Ralph over here?”

“Aww c’mon is that anyway to speak about your sister Naleya?”

“Blood will never be enough to make us sisters Niana. Just because my father couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and decided to knock your money hungry slut bag of a mother up doesn’t make us family.”

Everyone is shocked silent except for Ran,Rindou and Sanzu who were highly entertained by the turn of events. The cartel life wasn’t what Naleya wanted for herself and despite her protests it wasn’t enough to stop her father from training her to one day take over.

“I was trying to be nice,” Niana speaks while pointing a gun at her. “I really was but you always have to fuck shit up don’t you! You ruin everything!”

“Ohh boohoo, do you really think papa sent you here to close a deal with Mikey? That deal was sealed the moment your “man” decided my cunt was his favorite meal. You’re here because he’s testing you, testing to see just how far you’re willing to go to take over his empire. Just because I don’t want it doesn’t mean it’s not mine.” Naleya smirks knowing that she struck a nerve. She used that momentary lapse to swipe the gun and turn it Niana.

“You were always a bit slow, that’s why you could never beat me. Your greed and anger holds you back and that’s why he’ll always have you second.”

At this point Naleya knows she’s being a bitch by throwing salt on her sister’s wounds, poking at all her insecurities. She sees the exact moment Niana snaps and easily sidesteps as she charges at her. Gun tossed to Rindou she prepares herself for the fight she knows is coming. This isn’t how she wanted Baji to find out but it was already done but he still wasn’t off the hook.

Niana charges at her again, fist raised and out for blood. Naleya tackles all her weak spots and has her on her knees in less than five minutes. With all the commotion in their section it’s a miracle that security wasn’t called in as yet.

“Finish it! You spineless bitch. I did everything right and yet still it was always about you. The ungrateful bitch who ran away from home.”

Back turned to her as she heads for the exit, Naleya stops, barely looking over her shoulder. “If I wanted you dead Niana, you would be. You’re alive because I allow it. La sangre es la sangre but we are not sisters.Escort her home and let father know that I won’t be visiting for a while.” She speaks to Rindou and Sanzu.

“Ran you’re with me, come take me home please. Mikey, Ken make sure my girls get home safely.” Barely two steps out of the section and Keisuke is on her again.

“We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about Baji. You and me are done.”

“The fuck we aren’t. You don’t get to break up with me without letting me explain when you been keeping secrets as well.” There was no way Baji was about to let you end it like this.

“Yes I kept shit from you but I’ve never lied to you. I told you that the shit my family has been doing for generations wasn’t what I wanted so I left. You…you’ve been running around with her for weeks now and lying to my face every time telling me that you’re working late and like a fucking lovesick puppy I believed you. I believed you because I didn’t want to believe that the lipstick stains and the cheap ass perfumes I could smell on you were true. All I’ve ever asked of you is to never lie to me and have me looking stupid in these streets but you couldn’t even do that.”

“Baby…”

“No! Fuck you and that bitch too. Ran we’re leaving, now!”

“Back the fuck up off my woman Haitani.” He grits out. She wasn’t leaving here with that fucker.Ran is ready to throw hands but stops on her command.

“Leave him. I want to leave.” Everyone can hear the way her voice cracks.

“Peach…”

“Don’t come home Keisuke.”

-CB anon 🤍

OH? OH WOW? OKAY SO OOOOO NAMES AND NOT THE WHOLE BONTEN BEING HERE AND AND THE PLOT TWIST OF THE AND THEN OMGG???? BAJI IS SO *climbs over the table and punches him* WHY IS HE???? this is why we shouldn’t fight over men🙄