#some prayers for me would be very much appreciated ;-;

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Dionysos Loves His Mom(s), a very long essay

Going to just preface this by saying that I may/may not have gone a bit overboard, but I hope everyone enjoys reading my rambles on how amazing it is that we still have this message even through to day, how important this is for our understanding of Dionysos, and also just a little bit of (what I hope will come across as) Semele appreciation :) Also, I did write this during finals week, so if it seems rambly, please bear with me ;-;

And for clarification, I'll be referring to Semele with capitalized pronouns because even though She was human, mythologically, while carrying Dionysos, She was also deified by Him after He brought Her up from the Underworld.

The first interesting thing is that we get our description of Dionysos, as well as the love he shows for His Mother, in Greek mythology. While myths are usually pretty good resources for understanding the Gods, they are also usually written by the people who are in power at the time - which would be specifically older men who were not slaves. Because of this, a lot of myths tend to trend towards the "male" perspective of the Athenians. Also because of this, women are frequently represented in a very negative light, or at least as being relatively unimportant.

There are no Gods who have quite a relationship with Their Mothers like Dionysos has of His. Some of the Gods technically have no mother, like Aphrodite and Athena, and others just... don't seem to have much of a relationship at all. And this isn't necessarily to say that the Gods that we worship don't love Their Mothers, but more that the popular attitude of Greek society was simply to push women off to the side, and let the men take the glory.

And then, strangely, we have Dionysos, He Who Takes No Shit When It Comes to Women, as well as Him Who Has Two Moms. He's already something of an anti-Athena in Greek mythology, for while She was born of Zeus's head, and Metis was a sort of mother-base, Dionysos was born of two mothers, and from Zeus, in a way that echoes an intimate, "maternal" sort of birth, instead of the detached birth of Athena. And we know full well that Dionysos did not forget about either of His first two mothers. Persephone and Him famously get along well enough that they shared a rite in the form of the Eleusinian Mysteries, and it is to Persephone that initiates go, telling Her that the Bakkhic One Himself has freed us!

And we haven't even touched on Semele! It's one thing to have a divine Mother to welcome us to the afterlife. It's another thing to have a once-human-become-Goddess Mother in the form of Semele-Thyone. And Dionysos loves Her as well, very much so as well! Even though He never met Her as a child, He still very clearly has a lot of love for Her. At the start of the Bacchae, when Dionysos first arrives in Thebes, you will notice that one of the very first things He mentions in His monologue is that His mother is being disrespected by King Pentheus, and that this disrespect is part of the reason why He has driven the women of the city mad, as well as the sisters of Semele, who also were disrespecting Her.

This loyalty is only further emphasized by the fact that even though Semele is dead at the time of the Bacchae (and obviously after it as well, as the myth of Dionysos traveling to the underworld is an entirely separate story). And yet we must once again emphasize that this was written in a time where mothers were so often thrown under the bus (or horse-drawn chariot), and all of these myths were notably written by men, as far as we know. It seems that there is an inherent thread which ties Dionysos to the world of women, or at least has Him incredibly sympathetic to it, and one which could not be broken with all of the hyper-patriarchal nonsense that was woven deep into the cultural fabric of ancient Greece, especially Athens.

And to finish this fun little rant off, I want to offer two significantly longer ideas than the initial thing that I wrote! One for reflection on how we relate to Dionysos (and how He relates to us), and another as a reflection on Semele-Thyone and how She relates to us, and how we should relate to Her.

To start, this sympathy that Dionysos shows with women does, in some ways, hits culturally closer to a sisterhood than to the way that a man would have been encouraged to act towards women in ancient Greece. Dionysos as God understands His band of madwomen's own self-worth, and does not question their autonomy. Instead, he seems to encourage it, especially with all of the sassing he gives Pentheus while being grilled by him. This is such a good thing for all of us. Not only is Dionysos a friend of humanity, but He is specifically a friend for the marginalized. Whoever finds themselves marginalized in society will be His "favorites", so to speak, because that is where He truly finds His followers. It's almost as if He naturally finds where there is a power imbalance, and jumps on the other side to even things out, even if it is a little bit. I also think that this same "purposeful marginalization" is something which adds further theological credence to Dionysos being also validly a trans woman and nonbinary, as He does not sit within a patriarchal "Him"-ness, but rather within a "Him"-ness that refers to a more equal world.

Moving on to Semele-Thyone, we have a wonderful ally in a divine woman, sympathetic to humans, who knows full well not only the sufferings of humanity, and the pain in disrespect, but also the importance of kindness and respect towards others. In Greek mythological and religious canon, Semele-Thyone became the Goddess of the Bacchic revel, which, if you really think about it, isn't just about the Bacchic revel (it's never "just about the Bacchic revels"). This also tells us that Thyone, like Her Son, is also a God of the marginalized. Like Dionysos, She oversees the safety and wellbeing of the community which Her Son has founded. In some way, Thyone has become a Mom to all of us, through Her assistance with the divine inspiration that strikes frenzied devotees. It's a caring thing, too!

Anyways, the long and short of this is - Dionysos loves His Mom, Semele-Thyone is an incredibly underrated Goddess, and Mother's Day was yesterday. So hug your mom if you've got a good relationship with her, and if not, we can all borrow Dionysos' Mom :)

[ethereiling]

beginning to wonder what it’d be like if i was able to live a life where i actually felt safe

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone. 

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care. 

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?” 

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.” 

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.” 

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now? 

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel. 

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.” 

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest. 

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it. 

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven. 

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense. 

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high. 

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk,  and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.” 

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?” 

 “I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth. 

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left. 

That was easy. Wow. 

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would.  But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not. 

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows. 

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable. 

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded. 

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home. 

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control. 

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip. 

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest. 

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt. 

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.  

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

 If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect. 

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls. 

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear. 

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you. 

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure. 

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell. 

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat. 

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm. 

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit! 

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions. 

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all. 

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way.  His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features. 

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically. 

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless. 

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious. 

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

 When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly. 

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing. 

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that. 

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing. 

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

[littlestpersimmon]

Saving my mom's eyesight.

Hi guys- so. Gofundme doesn't work in the Philippines, so I had to arrange this on fundrazr, where PayPal works! No account needed- it's where I also fundraised surgery for my dad.

It would mean everything if you guys could please, please, once more spare me a reblog.. would much appreciate it.

I had some funds saved via commissions back in March, but they have been depleted because I did not account for her care after surgery- and because it kept getting delayed because they kept needing additional lab tests from her. Mom has preexisting conditions, like her kidneys are very weak, she is prone to seizures due to a brain injury from a sudden sepsis attack a few years ago, and she has diabetes.

Im sincerely n humbly asking for mutual aid.

I'm a disabled trans guy from the global south. Don't have a car, and I have been taking care of my family ever since I was a teenager all by myself- I have three jobs at the moment, but none of them are stable incomes, and because out of all four of us, I am the only one who works, I've been living paycheck to paycheck due to both my parents medical and day to day needs. I've put all the info I have on the fundrazr post.. and for additional info.. this is the most recent prescription/ note from the doctor.

I guess this is all. I'm so very sorry for having to write another one of these posts, but have been having an extremely difficult time, and prayers, donations, shares and even just a kind word would mean the whole world to me. Thank you so so much.

[the-saltiest-saltine]

Reservations and Repose

(Yan!Chrollo x Fem Reader)

@sukunasfavoritehole hopefully this is enough to tide you over until my ao3 finally gets an update hehe

Word count: ~7.3k

------

You’re naïve enough to believe Chrollo’s asleep. He loves that about you.

Warnings: NOT SFW, non -con thigh fucking, somnophilia, drugging, imagined not sfw scenarios etc

a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IT WAS 3/4 FINISHED THEN I FORGOT ABOUT IT my sincerest apologies.

Also this is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me 😥

Chrollo is very disappointed in you.

You let him kiss your cheek this morning following a deep sleep. You didn’t reciprocate, though he continues to see your progress and knows that an ever-hopeful yet can be added to the end of that statement. To some extent, the allowance of such an act could be chalked up to his acceptance of you, flaws and all, willing to appreciate the neutrality of it as opposed to ardent rejection. In a matter of weeks, you’ll be returning the gesture. And in a matter of months, you’ll be doing it gladly. Warmth, or perhaps weariness, has slowly but surely seeped its way into your actions recently, your shaky hands finding a place in his, fingers interlaced.

Is that to say he was under the impression that you’d completely given yourself to him? Absolutely not. There’s fear in your smiles, as much as they may have metamorphosed from obviously and mockingly forced to meek and endearing. Chrollo has shown you all that you know he can do. This has been enough to keep you relatively restrained over the months. If he showed you all that he knows he can do, you’d most likely curl up into a ball and sob until you dried out. That’s not necessary, though. It’ll never be.

Like many things, it wasn’t linear. It was a path that went upwards and downwards and forwards and backwards and in cycles, cycles that would always leave you curled up, sobbing in his arms, grasping onto him for whatever comfort it would give. But progress is progress, right?

Ignorantly, he began to believe the crumbs of affection, of acceptance, of acquiescence. Stupidly, he thought you were making progress. It’s been a significant amount of time since he was last this naïve. If he wasn’t so disgruntled by your transgression, he’d most likely bask in the nostalgic feeling. But he can’t, for the time being, because you’re trying to do something very rash.

As unfortunate as it is, you’re trying to leave him.

It’s audacious, having thought that the monumental power difference between you two had been thoroughly demonstrated on multiple occasions, a well established and silently acknowledged fact of your travels with him.

It’s irritating, although regarded with the same irritation as one would have with a pet goldfish trying to jump out of its tank. You silly thing, why do you want to abandon the place in which you are safe?

It doesn’t particularly make sense, though. He’s checked his cards - nothing suspicious has been bought in his name. No travel tickets or prepaid car hire. He’s even checked the jewellery collection - maybe you’d snatched up a nice necklace or bracelet or pair of diamond earrings to pawn off. But again, nothing. No suspicious bags have been packed. No loose tiles or floorboards or ceiling panels to hide supplies in. Your clothes are all neatly folded and hung in your wardrobe. 

You’ve got something up your sleeve- something desperate and jittery and not fully thought out. Something that relies on luck and prayers far more than precision and blow-by-blow planning. He never particularly took you for a daredevil, but to see you get pushed to such a limit, to be forced against your own timid nature, is beyond satisfying. If he could pluck it out of you and analyse it under a microscope, he’d be elated. Or perhaps even, he supposes to himself, he’d be so fulfilled that he might abandon the current pathway of his life, aimless and bloody and cyclical, finally so consumed with his obsession over you that nothing else is valued in the slightest. 

He can’t say he didn’t expect an ulterior motive for your apparent benevolence, at least initially, but for it to be kept up for this long? The stares felt almost too natural. The gradual lessening of your flinches when he placed a hand on your shoulder, the way your gaze would be drawn to him rather than away, even if only to flick away immediately - the subtleties were downright impressive. To be able to track everything simultaneously, to be able to remember to exhibit so many behaviours at once…Perhaps he should be taking acting lessons from you.

Chrollo had watched you, humming a pop tune this morning, cheekily shaking your hips from side to side as you fried some eggs, over easy, the notes sometimes interrupted with a sharp inhale between your teeth when the oil spat just a bit too high and would burn you ever-so-slightly. A domestic sight.

You’d let him give you another kiss on the cheek before he shrugged his coat on, giving you one last lingering glance before he’d walked out the door and into the hallway of the apartment, locking it with warm Nen made of comfort rather than capture. He gave you another cheek kiss (despite his ever-growing urge to dip lower) when he got home to the smell of spices and vegetables and the bubbling sound of a low simmer. You don’t fight them anymore, and barely even recoil now, a result of steady but slight crossing of boundaries - his record was eleven times in one day (at least, his record for when you were conscious) when he was feeling particularly affectionate, although you’d definitely soured up by the end.

The…fantasies he’d had of domesticity…they were just that, weren’t they? Fantasies, mere ideas that were appealing enough to fully flesh out in his mind. Whatever actions you’ve taken, whether it be pecks to the cheek or folding his shirts, staining them with the scent of you, they’ve all been a means to an end. That certainly wasn’t part of the fantasy. 

You’ve been buttering him up like the thick slices of white bread next to his bowl. What a betrayal.

Tonight’s stew is spicy and chunky, served courteously by you. His palate is experienced from an adulthood of travel, wealth, and nights spent with gullible women who couldn’t tell the difference between a Prince Charming and a swindler. Truly, there is little he hasn’t at least tried. Including this.

So, if there’s no other signs of you wanting to leave the comfort of the apartment and the familiarity of his presence, then what could’ve possibly cued him into your motives?

It’s something tenuous, something that could’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else. It’s something subtle, buried under layers of rosemary and thyme and paprika. But diphenhydramine is such an acquired taste. And it’s one that’s made the past few weeks and months crumble to dust.

Oh, you sweet thing.

Acting as oblivious as ever, he spoons chunks of zucchini and carrot onto the bread, taking large bites, chewing and swallowing with purpose, the taste of the sedative lingering. He considers smacking his lips for good measure, to play around with you a bit, but eventually decides against it. That’ll come later.

You sit across from him, silence between you two. Normally, he’d fill it with tales from his busy day - but you’ve been so good lately, that he’s begun to refrain from doing that. Nowadays, he asks you what you’ve been up to, every painstaking detail from your dull days without him. But that’s only if you’ve been good, or at least if he’s under the impression that you’ve been good. As it turns out, you haven’t been good, you aren’t being compliant, and now he simply waits.

You stare into your bowl of stew, but he can tell you’re watching him in your periphery. It’s so very fascinating, the way you absorb each mouthful he takes, washed down with frequent sips of water (there’s no other substances in that, obviously). He takes another swill of the liquid, tilting his head slightly back, and in the corner of his eye, he can see the way you observe his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Does it appease you, the sight? Does it intrigue you? Does it make you, even for a moment, reconsider what you’re about to do?

Chrollo pauses for a moment, before placing the half-empty glass back onto its coaster. He knows the smirk that comes onto his face is nothing short of wicked, but he truly can’t help himself. 

“Are you not hungry, my love? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Barely is an understatement. You haven’t touched it at all, in fact. Stupid, really. He knows that you know that he’s observant - but that information is irrelevant in this situation, considering it doesn’t take an keen eye to figure out your pattern of stirring your spoon around, picking up some carrot - even blowing on it for good measure - and nodding along with what few words he spoke initially, before giving an mhm! of agreement and letting it drop back into the bowl. You spend extensive amounts of time apparently fishing for just the right piece of zucchini, sorting through copious amounts of lentils (and seemingly taking the time to individually count them all), dragging chunks up the side of your bowl only to push them back down into the fray of assorted vegetables.

There’s almost a sort of jump in response to the words, ringing clear and well projected. But it’s contained above the shoulders - your head snaps to look at him, your eyes widening momentarily, staring into his own, trapped.

He can feel the shaky breath you take to steady yourself from over here, air stagnant and mouth dry.

“No,” you reply, “not particularly.”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, mouthing an oh before returning to his meal. It doesn’t matter whether you take the bait or not, his suspicions have long since been confirmed. Confirmed, in the sternest sense of the word, syllables enunciated with force, the knowledge of your true intentions well recognised. Whether that displays on his face or within his interactions with you is inconsequential to the known ending of your silly stunt.

The sound of you chewing is enough to bring his attention back out of the bowl. That’s not fake.

So you’re eating it too? It’s certainly a bold move, but one he wouldn’t dare put past you anymore. You were always a clever one, one to be placed a mere few tiers below his own intellect.

He hasn’t caught you swapping the bowl out for a fresh one. Maybe you’ve mastered the art so quickly that even he can’t notice?

No, not likely. Not in just a few months. That’d be impossible.

Your bites of pumpkin are preceded with the slightest hesitation, a quick breath to presumably psych yourself up to the self-sabotage. He hates to see you so scared when you’re properly sharing a meal with him like this, deciding to return to normalcy as a reward for your cooperation.

“Tell me, darling, what did you get up to today?”

Your eyes flick to his, momentarily ensnared in the grey, before looking up at the ceiling to aid in the process of giving a verbal description of what you read, how you cleaned, how you entertained yourself with rearranging your meagre book collection (not his, that would be asking for trouble). The response is practically identical to every other time he’s asked the question, plain and unindulgent. It’s boring, he thinks, even with the unacknowledged omission of the hours you spend staring at the walls and pacing around the living area. He’s tempted to pry into how you decided on tonight’s dish, but decides against it. Not for lenience or mercy, but rather amusement. To give away what he knows now would simply be a waste of a situation you’ll never attempt to put yourself in again.

If you knew what Chrollo knew, would you still bother to indulge him?

You stare at him for a moment, allowing him to draw things out, before nodding at the I see he gives in response. He gives a forward nod to your bowl, giving you gracious permission to eat again after starving you for the length of your interrogation, merciful as ever. Your fear is better contained behind a split second’s confusion before you register the nonverbal instruction, picking up your spoon once more and eating with more confidence this time, taking exaggerated bites of zucchini that barely make it past your teeth, chewed excessively into grey paste before being swallowed. Maybe you reason that if you chew enough, you can break the drug down into something that won’t knock you out. A cute thought.

The spices stain your lips an enticing red, the chilli making them plump up so deliciously. If he kissed them, would they burn him? Would the capsaicin leave his lips tingling, a reminder of your soft touch?

He likes to think he’ll know the answer soon.

Chrollo feigns sleepiness, furrowing his brows in mock confusion as he tells you that he can’t quite keep his eyes open - perhaps he overdid it at work today. 

Yes, work, as he loves to call it, like there’s the possibility of him spending his time away from you at a desk, punching in numbers on a computer, monotonous and repetitive and damn, couldn’t things just switch up for a day? Work, as in a beer-bellied husband whose idea of experimental fashion is changing which tie he wears with the same white button-up and black dress pants each day. Work, as in an assembly line employee who wakes up at three o’clock to be at the factory by four, ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to support his loved ones. Work, as in something at least vaguely respectable.

Work, as in literally anything other than stealing and slaughtering and scourging.

Chrollo relishes in the way your shoulders relax a little. It’s almost too adorable. Chrollo also relishes in the way they tense up again when he adds how it’s suspicious really. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt a tiredness such as this.

There’s an underlying anxiety in your pretty, pluckable, ever-so-slightly bloodshot eyes. Where others would be concerned for your health, he finds endearment, you precious thing. After admiring them silently for a moment, he announces that he’ll be off to bed now, darling. Remember to be there for me when I wake.

He leaves you alone in the kitchen to stew in your unease.

____________

Now he’s lying in bed, on the side closest to the door, limp as anything. It doesn’t matter whether his facade convinces you or not, he’ll have you in his arms by morning. The blinds aren’t fully down, leaving a pleasant blue hue that gives him a good visual of most of the room. Your side of the bed is still firmly tucked in from when he made it this morning, after running his hands up and down your arms until you’d given a great shudder and shoved him away - a pitiful attempt that he’d impishly gone along with. 

Anticipation tickles his nose and prods at his heart. Childishly, he wants you to get over with it already, to sprint in, swinging a knife wildly, or cue him to start the chase with a slam of the front door so violent that the hinges threaten to crack. It’s unfortunate how your faux compliance conditioned him to be unable to accept a halt, or even slowing, of progress.

Ah, some solace - he can hear your footsteps come up to the door, attempting, albeit poorly, to be quiet. Or maybe they are quiet, to the average man, but someone well-versed in the art of stealth can practically see the way you tiptoe closer. The faint sounds paint a detailed visualisation of your movements - the balls of your feet lifting from the ground, the flexing of your toes, the dorsiflexion at your ankles, the soft thud of your heels hitting the ground.

The bedroom door creaks open, a thin streak of light hitting his eyelids, making him see an ever-so-slight orange behind them. He might be able to visualise your walk accurately, but the same cannot be said for your face. Are you fearful, lips downturned and eyes wide? Are you determined yet cautious, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line? Are you smug? Condescending? Grinning from ear-to-ear, excited to finally have what you believe to be freedom?

You’re not, he discerns.

Instead, you huff a sigh, a sweet note that makes his heart jump, a small flutter that could only be instigated by you. It’s a sigh of relief. The door is shut. He expects another door to be slammed, too - the front door, hinges quaking as you sprint to the stairs as far as you can, too scared to wait for the elevator (and for your sake, he hopes you’ve brought a pair of running shoes - you’re on the 35th floor, after all). But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, he can hear the clanking of bowls and dishes, the smooth schwip as you push breadcrumbs off the chopping board into the bin with the back of the serrated-edge knife, and how you place said knife into the block without taking another one out.

So you’ve decided against stabbing him tonight? How agreeable.

In fact there seems to be no malice in the way you’re stacking the bowls, no scraps of extra force in how you shut the fridge. Whilst the sounds of your cleanup are nothing short of a ruckus to his alert ears, there’s an intentional tenderness he can hear. A conscious effort to be as quiet as possible with somebody sleeping peacefully in the next room.

It’s a gesture he’ll interpret in the best way he can. Even if he knows he’s deluding himself that you want to be quiet for his own peace rather than so you can escape, he’ll be sure to bring up the former as reasoning for your actions over the next few days, regardless of how you’ll spit venom at him, hissing that he couldn’t be more wrong.

Next is a movement he didn’t expect in the slightest.

You come back to the bedroom, with a pile of fabric in your hands - clothes, maybe? He thought you’d be off and away as soon as possible, or you wouldn’t get close to him again at the very least, standing patiently by the door until whatever you’re waiting for had occurred. 

The quiet-ish footsteps make their way past him this time, and straight into the ensuite.

There’s the soft sound of clothes falling, and then the tap is turned on.

You’re…showering before you leave?

You really are a good teacher of the quirks of humanity. Logical as ever, he’d most certainly take no time for hygiene practices if it reduced his chances of being able to go on a small, liberating adventure. But perhaps that’s part of the plan? Do you not want to have a speck of dirt on you so you don’t smell bad? Will you hide out at a fancy gala, and have to be as fresh as possible? Are you trying to wash off Nen, perhaps? 

No, that would never work, and he’s certain you know this too. Still, the idea of a little hopeless fire in you, taking a precaution you know is futile, makes his lips twitch.

So many questions, few of them answerable at present. His mind is stimulated so wondrously, for once not finding boredom in the predictability of human behaviour. He’s truly chosen well. 

And then there’s something else, rising above the sound of the rushing water, above the drain gurgling it down, greedily gulping it away.

You’re humming.

It’s relatively random, most likely improvised, and slightly off-tune, but endearing all the same. He can taste the notes, sweet and soothing, running down his throat smoothly and pooling warmth in his belly. 

You heave a sigh, and the tune changes. And then he recognises it.

It’s something he heard as a boy, back in Meteor City. He’d hear it at night, walking back to whatever semblance of a refuge he had with Franklin and Shalnark, past the hamlets of the younger children. Letting himself get lost in it, he can feel himself crawling to shelter on scraped knees, walking on calloused heels, eating stale bread, all accompanied by the faint smell of garbage, a smell that years of exposure had waned to a neutral accompaniment of the setting, rather than an inconvenience or hazard.

Despite the unhygienic nature of it all, it’s sweet. It’s these memories - memories of grime and rot and infection - that are the most pure. The most uncorrupted. They’re full of innocence and hope - just like you.

These qualities make you think you’ll leave him.

Upon remembering this, he’s tempted to barge in and ruin your peace, eager to hear your inevitable yelp and nervous laugh as he quizzes you about tonight’s events. But he doesn’t. Your lullaby is too enjoyable, the tune far too agreeable to stomp out yet. Resisting sin by committing another, he decides he doesn’t want to kill this mockingbird, if only to selfishly continue to hear it sing.

Few moments have come like this since you came to be with him. They’re all short-lived in comparison to the cold life he’s had, a firecracker popping on his tongue, fleetingly filling his mouth with syrupy sweetness before quickly dying off, barely an aftertaste to be savoured. He’s scratched them all down in an old leather journal with a quill and ink, lest he forgets what it feels like, or how to get that feeling again, but thankfully they’re scratched even deeper into his psyche. 

You’d been agreeable enough for a reward of a dinner somewhere several stories up, city lights shining behind you, framing your hair beautifully. You were reluctant at first, turning your nose up at him and the priceless food in front of you, opting for the bottle of red wine instead. It wasn’t supposed to be gulped down with such vulgarity like that, but that was part of your charm and by your second glass you were giggling and halfway through your third you looked at him right in the eye, cheeks tinged pink, and you smiled a smile that you’d forget by morning but he wouldn’t…

He’d returned to the villa after a long day to find the fans blasting, and you slumped over on the couch as credits rolled on the screen in front of you. He’d flicked the TV off, not before noting the rom-com’s name, and regarded you, with your deep, even breaths and singlet strap falling down. He picked you up and carried you to bed, laying you down on the thin blankets, fixing your strap despite the small voice that called to him to take off the thing entirely. Your head rested on the pillow, your face not scowling for once, and you’d huffed the sweetest of sighs…

That’s the kind of moment this is.

There’s no thought of what he’ll be doing with the troupe tomorrow, or in a week, or what move to make next depending on what you decide to do. Every nook and cranny of his mind, every convolution of his brain is filled with the thought of you. Tonight, it’s warm and viscous, slowing time and cutting both of you off from the rest of the world; the rest of its filth.

In this moment, he can see himself in the shower with you. He’s across from you, lathering body wash onto his shoulders, letting the foam run down his back. All the while, he keeps his gaze on you, watching how your hands run over your body, soap running along your sternum, between your breasts, along the curve of your hips, your ass, all whilst you hum that tune… shit, he can’t let himself get hard now. He manages to drag himself out of the daydream, barely, just managing to claw himself to the surface of reality.

Caps are popped open and the lathering of soaps can be heard over the course of your performance, with a finale of the tap being turned off. There’s a fumbling of fabrics before you come out, followed by yet another move he doesn’t expect.

You walk up to the bed, peel the sheets back, and lie down beside him. You then roll onto your side, facing him. After a few moments, you prop yourself up onto your elbow.

A moment of nothing. You’re frozen, as is he. Calm before the storm, he prepares himself to catch your wrist and hear you shriek.

You lean over.

And then there’s a featherlight sensation on his forehead, right in the middle of his tattoo. 

Had it been a split second later, he would’ve opened his eyes and turned to face you with a smirk as you screamed. But it’s not a split second later, it’s now, and now you’re kissing him. There’s no real benefit for doing such a thing that he can identify right now - perhaps you know he’s awake, and would like to make amends? Surely you know that that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

The contact sends an electric zap to every corner of his body, although he manages to not make himself jolt. Months of stifled desire bubble up from his insides, desire that’s spent so long smothered by rationale of better outcomes and forcing himself to think of his bloodied obstacles and late nights alone in the shower. As often as his lips find their way to your forehead, unfortunately the reverse doesn’t occur even half as much.

You pull away, like you’re hesitant about what you’ve done, like you’re waiting for him to snap his eyes open and sit up with inhuman speed, ready to pin you down or tie you up or even slap you for tonight’s inconveniences. But that doesn’t make sense, because hesitation is supposed to occur before such an intrepid act, not afterward.

After receiving apparent confirmation that you’re not about to be attacked, he can sense your head slowly but surely coming to rest on your pillow. You shouldn’t strain your neck like that, someone like you could get hurt over time.

The back of his shirt is peeled up, slowly, delicately, and he has to focus to keep his breathing even.

There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, his number a pale contrast to the black ink, practically jumping out at you.

0.

It’s your reminder, he supposes, of what he is. Theoretically and legally nonexistent, practically traceless. Zero evidence. Zero remorse. Zero morality.

Zero.

Then-

One, two, three.

Your lips mark a trail up his spine, at the bottom of the abdomen, right in the middle of the zero, on its head. Don’t shudder.

Once your deed is done, you pull back. There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, so silent that you’re barely breathing.

The fabric of his nightshirt is guided back down. You roll over and proceed to go limp, succumbing to the drugs intended for him.

What was that?

You’re not touching him anymore. He can sense the gap between your bodies, one that he would close every night, pulling you close. 

Was it a relief? To go to sleep without him touching you?

You’d always stirred up such a fuss about his arms being around you as you slept. 

It had always been a cause for seething rage on your part, later argument, later whining, and more recently huffing. Even last night, the stiffness before you fell asleep was a cause of his own discomfort. But you didn’t have to deal with that tonight, and now you’ve fallen asleep in record time. He can’t say it was just from the pills.

Did you change your mind on leaving after you felt their effects? It doesn’t seem likely that you’d ditch all that to sleep. Rather, that you wanted to sleep on your own terms.

He’d spent so much time concerned with stopping a potential escape, that he didn’t stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, that was never the goal to begin with.

And now Chrollo rolls over to face you, gently tugging on your shoulder to pull you onto your back.

You’re serene as ever, a sight to behold. 

He brushes the back of his knuckles along your hair, feeling its texture, so light that his calloused hands - hands that have seen many a bruise and burn and slice and hangnail caught and ripped on the job - almost can’t feel it. Your exhales come out more as huffs and sighs now compared to gentle breathing, and he allows a chuckle (one that he finds incredibly endearing, as much as you’ve let your disagreement to that sentiment be known, preferring to describe it with wounding words such as “condescending” and “grating”) to slip past his lips. 

It reminds him of you when you’re awake, when you used to try so hard to be difficult for him, when you used to scream and scratch as he’d spoon you, grip ironclad, until all you could do was huff and puff and plead with him (and as much as he enjoyed your attempts to compromise, this was something he simply could not relinquish) and eventually, your cursing would die down, your muscles would go limp, and you’d fall asleep. 

Sometimes the sun would be up by the time you relented, and your breaths would be the heaviest then. It was amusing, how quickly you’d switch. One second, you were cussing him and his troupe out, the next, you were a paragon of tranquillity, the visage of an angel before him. He’d pray you love him.

He wants to grab your jaw, hold it firm, and kiss your lips as hard as he can. He wants to tilt his head and take and take and take. He wants to keep taking even if your breathing lightens. He wants to keep taking even if your eyelids flutter open, hazy doe-eyes looking at him with dozy confusion.

Well, he’d never deny his own indulgence.

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to your forehead, just as you did to him.

The touch is as gentle as he can make it, as gentle as he can permit himself to be. There’s a split second of what he could almost call fear, an image of accidentally squeezing you too hard and hearing your bones snap flashing in his mind.

He rubs his thumb over where his lips previously were, feeling an unanticipated wetness left behind.

It’s then that Chrollo realises his mouth is full of his own saliva - whether that was because he was so entranced by your actions that nothing else mattered, body as limp as he could allow, or because, like some sort of filthy animal, he couldn’t help but drool at the contact from you, starved for it like a hyena, he doesn’t know. He swallows. That’s better.

And now for the main event.

He dips down to your lips, and lightly presses his own against them. The feeling is so heavenly, he wonders if you really are an angel. If you were one, would you bless him? Would you destroy him?

If you were to know what he’s doing, would you hate him more?

He pulls away. 

The journey to get here was sizable. Memories of tonight flash by; your cooking, your conversation, your shower. Your humming.

Ah. The tune he heard as a boy. Innocent, naïve, hopeful.

Well, he’s a man now. And far less innocent.

He lets out a hum of his own, deep and rumbling.

Chrollo moves to straddle you, peeling the duvet and sheets back, layer by layer, unveiling the best present he’s ever gifted himself. Just moving into such an intimate position is enough to send pangs of heat downwards, the hardness he fought against earlier returning with an urgency.

For a moment, he tries to fight against it.

Is it to save himself from your hatred? Is it to save you from what he’s planning?

It’s neither, he discerns, as the attempt was doomed to fail before it even started. He knows it was never meant to succeed.

His groin only throbs harder, aching for friction. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, the way he presses it against your clothed crotch, rocking back and forth, the slight relief just momentary as his desire only grows.

He regards your unsuspecting face. Stunning. 

Restraint is draining faster now, but still is present just enough to stop him from grinding any harder despite the urge. But if he’s to stop his movements, he’ll need a different kind of stimulation.

He bunches your shirt up, pulling, sliding a hand under your back so he can slip it off your arms and neck.

Now your chest is bare. How ravishing.

His fingers hook under the band of your sleep pants, dragging them off in a clean motion.

And now your legs are bare. How alluring.

He doesn’t take your underwear off - that would simply be crude, and he doesn’t need to tempt himself anymore. If he got the privilege (or right, considering your standings) of seeing you fully nude, as opposed to having a single layer covering the most tantalising part of you, he’d be oh-so-inclined to do something regrettable. His logic fights to win space within his buzzing thoughts, fingers daring to twitch as his imagination fills in the gaps of what the thin black layer forces to be left to it.

Chrollo parts your thighs for good measure, the maximum he can allow himself at this moment. It’d be impossible to not let his hands and gaze trail up them, observing how as he roams upwards, your flesh gets softer, warmer; how the flimsy fabric can’t hide all of your darker flesh; how your lower lips are pressing against the cloth, visible despite the darkness…

God, you’re so fuckable.

There’s a pretentious voice in his head, albeit muffled, that cries protests at the use of such a word to describe you. You’re something far more than that - beautiful, exemplary, one-in-a-million, ethereal. Surely your mouth would be better put to use having a fulfilling conversation with him, a conversation he can dissect and steer and puppeteer, as opposed to just opening as wide as it can to accommodate his cock, taking it as deep as your gag reflex will allow, barely able to breathe, much less talk. Although, he thinks with a faint, deep groan, twitching in his pants, that’s certainly a hypothesis I’ll have to test.

With the sight of your breasts, nipples hard and skin goosebumped from the chill of the room, it’s decided. Just because making his cheeks warm and his cock rock hard isn’t your most prominent trait, doesn’t mean that you aren’t absolutely exceptional at it.

Temptation isn’t something he’s inclined to resist, brushing a thumb over your nipples before leaning down to take one into his mouth. He swears he can hear your breath hitch as his tongue swirls around, breathing getting slightly lighter. An eager hand reaches for the other one, kneading as gently as he thinks he can.

Soft is the first thing he thinks. Your flesh is so soft, so delicate, so tender. If you were awake, he’d vocalise his compliments - and do so loudly, unrestrained.

Your breathing changes as he points his tongue to lightly flick at your nipple repeatedly. Chances are you’re being taken out of REM sleep, but your consciousness doesn’t matter at this stage. And some part of him hopes for it, brief images flashing in his mind of barely-open teary eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head. They’re obscene, so utterly immoral to even fantasise about, yet even the split-second thought makes his stomach jump, shivering a bit as he feels himself be almost overcome by them.

He can’t help but slightly wet his lips in anticipation, relishing in the knowledge that his instincts are being held back with the slightest thread. If he moves even slightly faster than his rational, calculating, non-carnal mind intends, then it’ll snap. He’ll snap.

Almost trembling, he reaches across to his bedside table. The movements are imprecise, but he’s sure this practice will allow him to execute them with much more grace for the inevitable time you’ll be awake. Yes, you’ll be awake and whining and he’ll wet his lips in anticipation and be met with your lingering taste and you’ll want him as much as he wants you- 

He almost falls forward as his own lust threatens to overtake him. Focus on the necessary steps.

Taking a shuddering breath, he leans down to pull open the drawer, to find a bottle hidden at the back, purposefully concealed behind an upright copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Quickly shifting his weight back, he pops the cap open, spreading some of the slick contents onto his fingertips. With his free hand, he pulls down the loose elastic of his pyjama pants, shucking them off, the cold air making him quiver slightly.

Time’s running out.

The movements are trembling, sloppy as he pours lube onto his length, and then onto your spread thighs. There’s a frantic inertia of sorts, a mad momentum - the more he does, the faster he has to go, the anticipation making his stomach swell and dip. He’s really going to do this. It’s really going to happen, and it’ll be amazing.

There. Done. Everything’s ready.

Chrollo takes a shaky breath, gripping just above your knees, and squeezes your thighs around his dick.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your thighs are warm from the duvet, perfectly cosy and wet from the lube for his cock.

Little time is wasted as he begins to thrust his hips, trying not to give himself too much too soon. The steady pace is slowly increased, little by little, a fragile incline so he can drag this out for as long as possible. 

Can you feel it? Can you feel the warmth radiating from him? Is there some part of your mind that’s awake, but can’t do anything to stop him? Or better yet, is eager to please him?

He strains out a hiss through gritted teeth, peppering kisses over your exposed neck, trying his best not to bite. The pace increases yet again. His eyes are fixated on the mound in your underwear, a more sinister form of curiosity burning within. 

What does your pussy look like?

He won’t use En, that’s just cheating. He wonders and ponders and conjures up the most filthy images his mind can muster. A warm, tight hole that clenches for him as he slips in and out, teasing you. A pretty clit for him to tease with his fingers as you whine, for him to suckle on as you choke on sobs of pleasure. Folds for him to run his tongue through as you rut your hips against his face; for him to run his tip along, collecting your slick.

He imagines how his cock would look disappearing inside of your cunt, how your grip would be so suffocating, how your tits would bounce as he fucks it (because shit, they’re already moving so vigorously now, as he holds his strength, and he can’t even begin to picture what they’d look like if he loses control buried deep inside you, repeatedly stuffing you to the hilt as you cry out). He imagines how you’d tighten around him, babbling something incoherent as you wrap your arms and legs around him, and oh fuck, he can’t pull out now. He imagines the tension snapping, giving a rumbling groan as he shoves himself into you as deeply as possible, eyes screwing shut and burying his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, riding out his high with a few shallow thrusts.

And finally, he imagines how his cum would look leaking out of your pussy, twitching and swollen from a nice good fuck. The afterglow. The squeak you’d give if he fingered it back into you, growling at you to not waste a drop, keep it all inside for me.

The thought makes his hips stutter a little, threatening to slip out of the plushness between your thighs. Once he regains his rhythm, though, they’re speeding up, relentlessly fucking himself into your thighs over and over, kneading the flesh as he squeezes them tighter and closer.

Chrollo cups your face with a single hand, and leans in. 

It’s the second time he’s properly kissed you tonight, and it feels fucking amazing. Your soft lips, your soft thighs, they’re all working together to make his head swim in bliss. You’re working to make him feel good. Yes, him. Nobody else. You’re his.

The thoughts run wild. He has as little control over them as he does his hips.

How would it feel to fuck you in some other position? How would it feel to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back to meet his, as he stuffs himself into your sopping cunt over and over, watching your ass bounce? How would you cry out at the way his balls slap against your swollen clit, building up the pressure inside you until you just can’t take any more?

How would you grind on top of him? How would you moan as you bounce, tilting your head back as you stretch yourself on his length, panting? How many times could you do it until your legs trembled uncontrollably, forcing yourself to impale yourself on his cock just one more time? When he’d plant his feet on the bed firmly and thrust his hips up, grabbing yours and bouncing you in time, would you wail, or simply slump over, completely unable to form a thought as you cum around him for the nth time?

You’re flexible enough to fold into a mating press, right? How deep could he go? How fast could he go? How would your beautiful skin look covered in love bites?

The coil of pressure within him grows even tighter even faster, balls slapping against your thighs, hips pistoning rhythmlessly.

If he asked, oh-so-nicely, for you to get on your knees and please him with your mouth, would you oh-so-sweetly do it? Would you suckle his swollen tip? Would you tease him with a glint of mischief in your eyes? Would you find his most sensitive spots and exploit them? Would you trace your tongue along the veins? Would you massage his balls? Would you let him control the pace, a hand intertwined in your hair? Would you look up at him as you tear up, doe-eyes wide and eager to please? Would you rub your pretty pussy while he shoots thick ropes of cum down your throat, pressing your nose against his pelvis?

Yes, he decides as the coil begins to snap, you would.

Chrollo comes to a sudden halt, choking out a rich groan in a low timbre. The noise becomes more strained as he rides out the high, the overwhelming euphoria becoming just a bit too intense as it begins to morph into overstimulation. Once he’s sure the moment’s over, he lets go of your legs, pulling back to catch his breath and admire his work.

Ropes of cum paint your chest, some making it as far as your neck, your chin. It’s beautiful, the unruly mess he’s made - no, the mess you’ve made of him.

You’re a real beauty, you know that?

The bathroom tiles are cold against his feet as he grabs a washcloth to clean you up. It’s sad to see it go, to a primal extent, but it’s probably for the best to ensure he doesn’t get any ideas for a second round tonight.

For future nights, though? The chest he’s covering up will soon be exposed soon enough.

He’ll have to get more sleeping pills. You simply must try this again soon. 

Next time, he’ll taste you. The time after that, you’ll taste him. He can hardly wait, nor can he stop the dull throbbing starting up in his groin again.

He sates himself for the time being with the knowledge that the time after that, you’ll be awake.

[sebscore]

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race. 

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice. 

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month. 

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind. 

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence. 

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.'' 

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.'' 

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment. 

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming. 

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.'' 

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong. 

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie. 

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern. 

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place. 

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him. 

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced. 

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath. 

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression. 

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team. 

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss. 

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit. 

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her. 

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch. 

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep. 

''Only on track.'' He winked. 

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend. 

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet. 

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.'' 

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath. 

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.'' 

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note. 

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results. 

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it. 

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth. 

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window. 

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him. 

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.'' 

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further. 

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.'' 

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal. 

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said. 

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.'' 

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.'' 

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.'' 

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air. 

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them. 

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face. 

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position. 

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face. 

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''. 

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones. 

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.'' 

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up. 

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face. 

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly. 

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act. 

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath. 

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in. 

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself. 

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence. 

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries. 

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat. 

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses. 

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her. 

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.'' 

''Like what?'' 

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing. 

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her. 

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.'' 

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.'' 

''Like Netflix?'' 

''A bunch of cunts.'' 

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair. 

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back. 

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned. 

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.'' 

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.'' 

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up. 

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year. 

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness. 

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.'' 

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room. 

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone. 

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around. 

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.'' 

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance. 

''How's that going?'' 

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off. 

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?'' 

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice. 

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation. 

''Okay.'' 

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off. 

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them. 

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her. 

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.'' 

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.'' 

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.'' 

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.'' 

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer. 

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.'' 

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?'' 

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned. 

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.'' 

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.'' 

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder. 

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues. 

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.'' 

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.'' 

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both. 

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.'' 

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

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[thesiltverses]

Hello! I found the silt verses about three weeks ago and have listened to it several times since. I have a few things to say.

I absolutely adore that episode about the national grid workers. I think it’s my favorite episode of any podcast I’ve ever listened to. My favorite part of that first episode Paige is in is how she justifies not standing up for Vaughn, that cognitive dissonance that you wrote so well. This episode gives me what I wanted from that episode, the workers all banding together to stop the wasteful sacrifice of one of them. The actor who played the foreman did an incredible job as well. I think that having him discuss which of his workers he would sacrifice was such a significant moment, despite how brief it is. It cuts right to the big question that I took away from the podcast which is, “How much is someone willing to sacrifice in order to maintain their comfort?” And the utter disrespect of Glodditch (apologies for the spelling) refusing to cancel even the radio but asking grid workers to kill themselves for 200kw/h! Top tier episode.

I grew up in the south and went to college in Appalachia. I saw the disparity in technology and “advancement” if that makes sense that poverty brings, and the way you set up the world invokes that feeling in me again. You are an amazing world builder and storyteller.

I really enjoyed the cameos - I’m a big fan of malevolent/devisor, Old gods of Appalachia, and all of Jonny sims work, so hearing familiar voices was an absolute delight. Harlan Guthrie as an acolyte of the snuff gods might have been a bit too on the nose with some of the things that man writes, though… /pos

I’m transmasculine, and something that I really appreciate is how you manage to make a trans man do some objectively awful things, but still manage to make him a complex, full character that I was rooting for very frequently. Brother Faulkner is so, so important to me as a character. Paula Vogel has a play called “Indecent,” which is about the true story of a troupe of I believe German Jewish actors between the years of 1910ish and 1940s putting on a show called “God of Vengeance” by Sholem Asch, also a Jewish man. “God of Vengeance” has queer themes and received a lot of criticism from the Jewish community for showing Jewish folks in a “bad” light at a time when there was already so much hatred for Jewish people. Brother Faulkner being as complex and, in my opinion, malicious and cutthroat as he is at a time when trans people face so much bigotry, especially legislatively in the United States, brings this conversation about “God of Vengeance” up again for me. I also love how normalized non-binary people are in this world, without question. “Sibling this or that,” the hunter, adjudicator Shrew - big thanks from me for all of this.

All of this to say, I love this podcast. Can you talk more about the rhetorical gods? Is Babble one? What makes them one if they are, or why aren’t they? I’m fascinated by them. Can you talk more about the propaganda gods too?

Thank you so much for the thoughtful and kind words!

I'll check out Indecent, it sounds really interesting and I'm very glad to hear Faulkner works for you as a character. I think the topic of how to include and write queer characters who are capable of terrible things and thoughts (because, after all, these characters are human beings and not tutelary exemplars), within the context of both a rising movement of transphobia right now and centuries-old scapegoating / pathologising portrayals more generally, is a really knotty but a really important one, and I always want to make sure I'm approaching it with care and due responsibility as well as a sense of humility around the limitations of what, as a cis writer, I can actually achieve.

To that end, I don't want to ever take the audience response for granted, but I'm always really grateful to hear that the portrayal is working for a listener!

Propaganda gods: gods whose prayer-marks or ritual verses are fed directly to the enemy, enforcing destructive or sabotaging changes to reality (so rather than sending a destructive saint or angel to rampage over the foe, you might drop pamphlets or send radio messages to the enemy to 'convert' them).

Rhetorical gods: gods whose followers possess reality-warping powers of language itself (which is why 'rhetorical god' is a polite way of saying 'liar's god'). In other words, the paranoia around them comes partly down to the fact that a disciple like Val may appear to be a limitless shaper of new forms, rather than shaped into a limited form of their own, as a result of their worship.

[skribbyposts]

Another zosan post bc they invade my thoughts every waking moment !! also i'm typing on mobile so this might be weirdly formatted

anyways, hc that Sanji is the MOST TOUCHY DRUNK to ever exist and he's all over all of his crewmates all the time. in addition to this, Sanji is also a fucking horrible lightweight. like.... tipsy after two beers lightweight. Sanji also YAPS to whoever's nearest to him about everything and anything that comes to his mind. Zoro is his main victim all of the time and does not appreciate it (yes he does, hes so gay) and its so funny to the rest of the crew b/c he has to peel a rambling sanji off of him while blushing so much he looks like a really tan tomato.

Nami + Usopp appear briefly here b/c i love their friendship so much heart emoji!!! <3333

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

"Ugh, marimo, get off of me."

Zoro sighs from his position pressed against the edge of a bench, having what is arguably the worst time ever in the corner of some random bar he's been dragged to by the rest of the crew.

"I'm not on you, cook. move your goddamn leg."

"No, you move your leg."

Zoro tries in vain to shuffle away from the lanky limb draped across his lap, narrowly avoiding spilling his beer all across said limb.

The blonde always got touchy when he was drunk, plastering his entire body on the nearest person and talking their ear off for the remainder of the night.

Somehow, it was always Zoro who ended up with a tipsy Sanji draped over him, his breath smelling strongly of cheap liquor as he rambled about god knows what.

Zoro sighs again, resigning himself to his fate as the blond proceeds to hook his heel around one of Zoro's legs and pull himself forward so that he's pressed up against the other man's side. Zoro feels Sanji's elbow poking his arm. He tells himself it's very unpleasant.

"Yknow, you're coming with me to get... uh... groceries tomorrow. Yeah. We need bread."

"You've told me that three times tonight."

"Well, I'm telling you again, you algae head." Sanji lolls his head back to look at the ceiling, using the hand not trapped between them to loosely gesture at the man next to him.

"Nice one," Zoro deadpans.

"Oh, fuck you," Sanji replies, and then rests his head on Zoro's shoulder. "you want hamburgers for lunch tomorrow?" he asks over the loud murmur of the bar.

Zoro, however, does not reply. Instead, he stares straight ahead and tries to focus on the fact that Sanji's chin is digging uncomfortably into his shoulder rather than how his face is inches away.

Sanji doesn't seem to notice, his breath fanning along Zoro's cheek as he prattles on about brioche buns.

Zoro is trying very hard to stay still, internally processing the warmth of the cook's flushed face against his own and sending a silent prayer to whatever deity is out there this will be over soon. He also pointedly does not look at Nami and Usopp snickering over their wine glasses in the corner either.

He's snapped out of his impromptu staring contest with a stain on the wall when he feels Sanji slump almost completely off of the chair, and then suffers a mini heart attack when the blond kicks his legs up on the other side of the bench and straight up puts his head in Zoro's lap.

Zoro stares down at him in surprise and Sanji stares back, both eyes visible with his bangs swept out of his face. They're half-lidded and his face is tinted red from the liquor. Neither of them says anything, for a moment. Sanji's gaze sweeps across Zoro's face, looking for something. He pauses, and Zoro has to clamp his mouth shut because every time he sees Sanji like this he suddenly gains the inexplicable urge to say I've been in love with you for three years, please make out with me, which would be very bad.

The cook's eyebrows furrow, and he parts his pretty, pink lips before mumbling softly;

"...Did you get a haircut?"

Zoro throws his head back and groans. "That's it, we're going back to the ship."

He can hear Nami and Usopp's shrieking laughter clearly, even over Sanji's slurred protests as Zoro chugs the rest of his beer, hoists the fucking idiot up on his back, and marches out of the bar.

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

Zoro did, in fact, get a haircut. Sanji should know b/c hes the one who did it lmao. Also, it takes Zoro an hour to walk the 15 minutes back to the ship, and Sanji talks about bread the entire time.

Am i making Zoro whipped for Sanji because i am whipped for Sanji? Interesting question, indeed. Will i ever stop? No.

Ty to my loyal 5 followers i gained yesterday!!! shoutout to yall.

Also i would REALLY appreciate comments about how i can improve my writing style so if you have any feedback please comment !!!!!

okay bye :p

[cutielando]

dating - headcannons ~ jj maybank

you were childhood best friends

ever since you could remember, you would always do everything together

you guys also lived next to each other, so you were almost always having out at each other’s house

you would get together very randomly, kissing one day and deciding to just wing it from there

he didn’t have much material wise to spoil you, but he made up for it with sweet gestures

he is such a gentle and passionate lover

has to be touching you at any time

he would either have a hand on your thigh, a hand on the small of your back or his arm wrapped around your shoulder to practically smother you into his side

occasionally, when he would get jealous, he would downright squeeze your ass or slap it in front of everyone so they could all know who you belonged to

would never let you hang out at his house while his dad was there, too afraid that his father’s temper could get you caught in the middle of a fit of rage

he would take you to the best parties on the island

would constantly be with you at the parties, not trusting the other guys not to hit on you

fights anyone that dares to look at you the wrong way, or if he hears anyone saying something inappropriate about you or your body

he’s a gentleman, always opening doors for you, treating you like the princess that you were

would take you for rides on his bike whenever you two were bored or when you couldn’t sleep at night

from the money he was getting from his job, he would prepare the cutest dates, buy you flowers that you knew were not cheap, occasionally buy you some really nice clothes you would be eyeing in the shops

you guys would have constant sleepovers at your house, JJ doing everything he could to spend as little time as possible at his house

he was very cuddly in bed, especially when he was tired

he wouldn’t say anything, he would simply enter your bedroom, disregard his clothes somewhere on your floor and then fall flatly on the bed, instantly cuddling up to your body and hiding his face away from the world in your chest

he had your parents in love with him, showing them that he intended to treat you with the utmost respect

very jealous, like he would glare at any guy that you would talk to, not bothering to ask for context

he was also a very passionate lover

before you, he would only have meaningless hook-ups, nothing ever came from any of them and he didn’t want anything serious with either of them

when you came along and had sex for the very first time, he knew he was a goner

you would never even think about being with anyone other than JJ

he knew your body like the back of his hand, all of your weak spots were stuck in his mind like a prayer

would praise the hell out of you during the act

“You’re doing so good for me”, “My baby girl, taking me so well”, “You’re the hottest woman I have ever laid my eyes on”, “Your pussy’s so good, I can’t get enough”, “You drive me crazy, baby”

he was very big on hickeys, wanting to make sure that nobody got any ideas and they knew who you belonged to

he loved you with every fiber of his being, he never thought he could ever love someone as much as he loved you

you guys would 100% end up getting married, it was just a fact

goals, no question about it

would probably end up going full Kook, buy a big mansion on Figure 8 and have 2-3 kids

you kept each other grounded, you helped each other find happiness again and loved each other like there was no tomorrow

match made in heaven

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[babydollmarauders]

MEAN — ALEX TURCOTTE

alex turcotte x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n opens up to Alex about the hate she’s been receiving from his fans

notes: not proofread! so sorry if it sucks!

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, trevorzegras, and 7,297 others

y/nonthegram on a date and our waiter called me a bitch… anyone know what number i can call to complain?

tagged _alexturcotte and trevorzegras

user47 awww they went to dux in tux to support trevor!

_alexturcotte my girl 🖤

y/nonthegram my boy 🤍

user16 thank god she didn’t show her face

trevorzegras sorry, we don’t take complaints 🙅‍♂️ only compliments 💁‍♂️

y/nonthegram that feels very unprofessional

trevorzegras who ever said i was professional? 🤔

jackhughes my boys! looking dapper! and y/n!

y/nonthegram this is y/nphobic

jackhughes i acknowledged you, didn’t i?

y/nonthegram barely

colecaufield @/y/nonthegram i’ll acknowledge you! you look beautiful, y/n!

y/nonthegram @/colecaufield thank you! at least someone appreciates me!

user63 well… trevor wasn’t very far off

user77 have you ever even met her? she’s literally the nicest person ever

user21 she gives mean girl bitch vibes so idc

user98 impatiently waiting for him to dump her

user30 honestly, if he cheats on her on a roadie… would anyone really be upset?

user52 i know i wouldn’t! i think all of us are just praying on their downfall. like, he could do so much better

***

my eyes sting, locked to my phone screen. my hearing is muffled, drowning out the sound of my boyfriend and his best friend just feet away from me.

they sit on the coffee table in front of me, NHL 23 displayed on the tv. they shout curses at each other and the tv, trying their hardest to win for their respective teams on the video game. but my focus is solely on the comments of my most recent instagram post.

all i wanted to do was show off my boyfriend of five years. but his fans were being so mean.

it was nothing new. these comments happened on nearly every post i made. whether they were insulting my looks, or saying Alex deserved better, i could never please them.

usually, i only let myself look at the comments for a moment before deleting them altogether, but today was already a hard mental health day and these comments were hitting me where it hurts. i can’t help but dwell on them longer than usual. today they took my worst fear, and used it as a ‘what if?’ scenario, one of the meanest things they’ve ever done.

i sniffle, standing from the couch. shuffling quickly past my boyfriend, my head hanging low to try and hide my tears as i make my way to our bedroom, shutting myself in the darkened room, the only light being that of the setting california sun peeking through the curtains on the windows.

i crawl up our bed, burrowing myself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, and turn my phone back on, scrolling through the comments once more. this time, i let my tears flow freely, silent sobs racking my body.

all the comments on my body, my insecurities and flaws, my relationship, even some accusing me of cheating on Alex with our friends. it’s one blow after another, each one cutting deeper than the last.

a loud cry escapes my lips and i clap a hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut and holding my breath; praying to whatever higher power that Alex and Trevor didn’t overhear me from the living room.

my prayers go unanswered when our bedroom door creaks open, the light switch being flipped on, and two sets of footsteps enter the bedroom.

“hey, sweet girl.” i bury my head deeper under the blanket at the sound of my boyfriend’s voice. “you wanna show me that pretty face?”

his gentle tone brings even more tears to my eyes and despite knowing he can’t see me, i shake my head.

“y/n? are you okay?” Trevor asks softly. i feel them both sit on the bed as i hum out a ‘mhm’.

“you sure?” Trevor questions.

“why won’t you let us see you, then?” Alex asks. a hand finds my back, rubbing it soothingly, and the soft touch causes me to let out another cry. i hear some muffled whispering before someone rises from the bed.

“i’m gonna leave you guys to talk, i’ll see you tomorrow.” Trevor announces. “y/n, if you need me, just call and i’ll come right over.”

i hear his footsteps retreating, the bedroom door falling shut behind him before my boyfriend’s hand leaves my back, coming up on the blankets and pulling it down to reveal my tear stained face.

“hey, what wrong, baby?” his eyes are filled with worry, concern dripping from his words like honey. “why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“i’m fine.” i choke and he obviously sees straight through my lie.

“if you were fine, you wouldn’t be crying.” he shifts his body, moving to lay down next to me on the bed. his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close, and on instinct, i throw my thigh over his abdomen. his hand comes up to play with my hair, the tips of his fingers scratching my scalp in a calming manner.

“you wanna tell me what’s got my girl so upset?” he questions. he knows he has me in the palm of his hand. he knows exactly what to do to ease my mind and make me feel safe.

“comments.” i whisper into his chest, muttered by lips against his shirt.

“hmm?” he hums. my eyes flicker up to see his brows pulled down in confusion.

“instagram comments.” i clarify, sniffling and wiping at my nose with my hand. “some of your fans aren’t very nice.”

“wait what?” he asks. his hands pause their actions and he pulls my face back to look me in the eyes. “what are you talking about?”

“i didn’t wanna say anything. you love your fans and some of them are so sweet.” i sigh.

his expression is one of betrayal and disappointment. this is exactly why i kept this all from him. he loves his fans so much, i know he would never want to hear that some of them are so cruel.

“y/n, what are they saying?”

“just mean things. things i’d rather not repeat.” i unlock my phone, the screen still on the hate comments of my latest post, and hand it to him, letting him see them for himself.

“what the fuck?” he murmurs to himself. “why have i never seen these?”

“i usually delete them right away.” i confess. “i never wanted you to see them.”

“baby, you should’ve told me about these. these are cruel.” he scrolls through the comments, deleting every comment that isn’t necessarily considered nice.

“i know, but your fans make you so happy. i never wanted to take that from you.” i cry, burying my face in his chest.

“but you make me happier.” his hand rests on my head, the other rubbing my back. “you make me so much happier than they ever could.”

“it just hurts. it didn’t used to hurt this much, but after so long, the comments are getting to me.” i sob. “i just wanna feel okay again.”

“hey, you know nothing they said is true, right? you’re beautiful, and sweet, and the best thing to ever happen to me. you’re the smartest, most thoughtful, kindhearted, loving girl i’ve ever met. and i would never do anything to jeopardize what we have. i would never even think about even entertaining the idea of sleeping with anyone on a roadie, you know that, don’t you?”

i nod my head, sniffling. i raise my head to look at him, his eyes glassy as he wipes my tears.

“i love them, but i love you so much more. and they’re clearly not fans of mine if they think it’s okay to say shit like this about you, let alone to you.”

my insecurities get the best of me and i can’t help but question.

“you’re sure you’re not sick of me?” i whisper.

“you ever looked in my nightstand?” he asks, my eyebrows furrow in confusion and i shake my head.

“not recently, no.” i don’t understand his question, or what it has to do with mine.

he pushes me off of him, my heart sinking in my chest.

this is it.

he’s decided we’re done.

i don’t know what i’ll do without him.

he leans over his side of the bed, shuffling around in his nightstand drawer for a moment before turning back to me, something clasped in his hand.

“i had a more romantic plan, i swear i did. i had a whole speech planned, but my mom said that i should do this when it feels right. and now feels right.”

my eyes widen, my breath going shaky as i consider what he could possibly be meaning in this moment.

i sit up quickly in the bed, as he reveals a black ring box in his hands, opening it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.

my hands rise shakily to my parted lips, more tears gathering in my eyes as they flicker between him and the ring.

“you asked if i’m sure, and i hope that this ring shows you that i’m absolutely positive. i can’t imagine a life without you. i can’t imagine what my life would’ve been like if you hadn’t called me a ‘stupid waste-of-a-pretty-face hockey player’ when we were sixteen.”

“all you got from that was ‘pretty’.” i let out a choked laugh through my tears.

“and i’m so glad i did, because that one word was all it took for me to fall to my knees. to chase after you and annoy you for an entire year until you agreed to go out with me. and now i never want to live a life without you.

“you’re my biggest supporter, my favorite person in the world, and the only girl i ever want. i love your kind soul, and the way your smile brightens my day. i love your beautiful eyes and the way you laugh over my dumbest jokes. i love that you fought for us to stay together, even when i wasn’t sure if we would work after i was drafted. i love that you dance in the kitchen when you cook, and the way you romanticize every part of our every day lives. i love that you refuse to go to bed angry, and that you sing in the shower and make me duet you. i love you, for everything you are, and everything you will be. and i would love to spend the rest of our lives together, if you’ll marry me.”

i can’t even get a response past my lips, opting to tackle him instead, nearly knocking us off the bed. but Alex’s quick thinking saves the moment, swaying us sideways instead to land on our sides on the mattress.

i straddle his waist, knocking him on his back as my lips glide along his face, peppering kisses on his cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, anywhere i can reach, before settling on his lips.

i pour all of my emotions into this kiss, filled with love and happiness, joy and affection. i suckle his bottom lip as i pull back to look into his eyes, a large grin taking up the bottom half of my face.

“is that a yes?” he chuckles, a hand resting on my lower back, the other still gripping the ring box.

“that’s a yes.” i nod excessively, holding my left hand out for him. he smiles widely, making quick work of removing the engagement ring from the box and sliding it onto my finger.

“i love you so much.” i tell him, grasping his face in my hands as i lower my lips to his once more.

***

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, jackhughes, and 11,759 others

y/nonthegram i said yes <3

tagged _alexturcotte

comments on this post have been limited

jackhughes HE DID IT?! WITHOUT US?! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PLAN?!

y/nonthegram plan?

jackhughes i mean.. i’m so happy for you guys! i knew you guys were meant for each other!

y/nonthegram thank you rowdy!

_alexturcotte thanks bro!

trevorzegras HELL YEAH BRO! LOCK HER DOWN! SO HAPPY FOR YOU LOVEBIRDS!

y/nonthegram thanks Z! celebration lunch tomorrow?

trevorzegras just txt me the deets, doll!

_alexturcotte thanks bro, and thanks for keeping the secret, even though you usually have loose lips

trevorzegras @/_alexturcotte i resent that

colecaufield MY BEST FRIENDS ARE GETTING MARRIED!! CONGRATS YOU GUYS 🍾🎉🥳🥂💍

y/nonthegram thank you coley! 😙🤍

_alexturcotte thank you cole!

_quinnhughes when did you grow up? stop growing up! i’m happy for you two, but jeez y/n, i could’ve sworn you were still fourteen and stalking practices yesterday!

y/nonthegram hey! i never stalked practices! i simply liked to observe the sport!

y/nonthegram but thank you quinny 🤍 you’ll be my man of honor, right?

_quinnhughes it would be my pleasure, y/n/n

jackhughes hey! why is QUINN your man of honor and not me?!

y/nonthegram because if it’s you then you’re gonna wear a dress. you wanna be man of honor?

jackhughes ya know what? i’ll let Quinn be your man of honor. you’ve known him longest, so it’s only fair.

y/nonthegram that’s what i thought

lhughes_06 congratulations guys!! engagement party at the lake house?!

y/nonthegram engagement party at the lake house!

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 17

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving), fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, innuendos, language, romantic love making.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 16

After spending the day on the beach and in the ocean, I was getting mentally prepared for the big proposal tonight. I had no idea what I’m going to say to Emma, as verbal confessions of love were a bit of a struggle for me. I know without a doubt how I feel about her, but I just suck at putting all of the words together. I tend to show her how I feel, rather than say it which hasn’t steered me wrong yet but I wanted to make this perfect for her.

I told Emma that I had booked us a dinner tonight at sunset so to get all gussied up and be ready for a fancy meal. Emma showered first saying she wanted to do all sorts of shaving and exfoliating and needed some room. I trimmed up my beard before she was wrapped in the hotel’s bathrobe as she began drying her hair. I went to shower next and spent most of my shower trying to come up with the right combinations of words in my head but being distracted as Emma bent over and flipped her hair from side to side as she dried it. My cock twitched every time she did it because I could only think about how she does something similar when I’m taking her from behind. I willed my dick to calm down, hoping that we’d have an engagement to celebrate later tonight that I needed him to wait for. I tried my best to refocus on my upcoming declaration of love and said a prayer everything would go smoothly. We still had an hour until dinner so I laid down on the bed in my underwear and decided to check in with my grandparents and let them know that we had arrived safely and make sure Mills and Aika were behaving. Nana was so excited about having the dogs spend the week with them, that I swear she might try and keep them. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Nana. How’s it going?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you called! I was wondering if y’all made it safely. How is it there?”

“It’s really nice. Very fancy and we’re having a great time so far. How are y’all doing?”

“We are just fine. These dogs are just a delight, Son. I don’t want to give them back.”

“Maybe I’ll let them come over more often if you don’t spoil them rotten.”

“Well, that’s my job until you give me some human babies to spoil. Maybe you should start working on that. Have you proposed yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve got a dinner booked tonight but I don’t want to say much else. Em’s in the bathroom getting ready.”

“Okay, but you better let me know what she says. Are you nervous?”

“Nah.” I said, but I don’t know why I even bother putting up a front with her. She can read my voice like a book from across the world.

“Don’t be nervous. Just say how you feel, from your heart. You knew right away that she was different and you need to tell her how much you care for her.”

“I’m going try. You know I’ve never been the best with words.”

“You’re better than you think you are, honey.” 

“Thanks. I’m gonna let you go, but I just wanted to check in. Don’t feed my dogs too many treats.”

“Too late! They love Nana’s house the best!” She chuckles.

“Love you.”

“Love you too! Good luck even though you don’t need it.” 

I hang up with Nana and listen to Emma softly singing some pop song while getting ready and decide I better get myself dressed as well. I put on my “church clothes” as my mama always called it and discreetly pocket the ring in my pants pocket. I’ve organized for a photographer to hang back out of sight and photograph the proposal which was the only stipulation that Emma’s mom had when I asked for her hand. I wanted to make the trip to Alabama to ask in person but there was no way I could do that without Emma finding out or getting suspicious. I think back to that nervous phone call.

*Flashback*

I had arranged to speak with Emma’s parents via facetime while she was at work one day and I was nervous as hell to make the call. 

“Hi Austin!” Diana and James greeted when they accepted the call.

“Hey there. How are y’all doing today?”

“Good, probably not nearly as nervous as you.” James said and Diana smacked his arm with a shake of her head and I couldn’t help but chuckle because they were right.

“You wanted to talk to us about Emma?” Diana prompts.

“Well, I know we haven’t been together terribly long, but we are so good together and I have never been so sure about someone before. I have fallen deeply in love with her and I would love nothing more to ask her to marry me, with your blessing of course.” I ramble out probably too quickly. 

Diana and James look at each other with a smile before responding.

“We had a feeling this is what you wanted to ask us because we saw the way you both looked at each other and gravitated around each other when we came to visit. Emma has really opened up since we met you and I have never seen her so, herself. It’s like she finally stopped worrying about every step she took and allowed herself to just be happy.” Diana said and I couldn’t help but smile.

“The answer to your question is yes, you have our blessing as long as you promise to love her and take care of her and treat her with the utmost respect. She may be grown and not need us, but she’s always been my little princess.” James said with an almost sad smile.

“I swear to you both, that Emma is the love of my life and I will do anything and everything to provide for her and give her everything she could ever want.” 

“I’ve seen how you both are together that weekend we came to stay and knew it was the real deal. I’ve never seen her so happy or so in love before and we would be proud to have you as a son-in-law. You’re a good man.”

“Thank you, sir. You don’t realize how much that means to me. Becoming a part of your family would be a blessing. I’m just hoping she’ll say yes. Do y’all want to see the ring?”

“Of course, sweetheart!” Diana responded while clapping her hands as I carefully opened the box and tilted it towards the camera.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Austin!” Diana coos and I feel proud that her mom is so sure she will like it.

“I’m relieved you think so. I was a little out of my depth but I just felt like it was something I could see her wearing every day. It’s a 2 carat round diamond, with something called baguette diamonds on each side on a platinum band. I plan to ask her when we go to Jamaica in two weeks. I still haven’t figured out exactly where, but I think she’d like it if I proposed near the beach.”

“It’s perfect. I just know she’ll say yes! Could you do us a favor? Could you have a photographer take pictures for us to see? I know she would cherish them as well.” 

“Yes ma’am.” I make a mental note to call the resort and see if I can hire someone to take pictures. I hadn’t thought of anything like that, so I’m glad her mom mentioned it.

“Well, we’re proud to have you join the family son. I appreciate you asking us and letting us in on it. I know she’ll be blown away.” James says.

“Thank you both so much.” 

I swear, I almost cried after we got off of the phone call. The only man that I ever looked up to was my PawPaw since my dad split and started a new family. I felt lucky to have PawPaw but always wondered why I wasn’t good enough for my dad to stay. Having Emma’s family accept me into their own so willingly, really caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect those old feelings to come back up, especially at my age. I guess you never grow out of wanting a father that actually wants you.

*Present*

I think I’ve got an idea of what I’m going to say to her but when she enters the bedroom all thoughts leave my brain. Emma is stunning in a full length royal blue dress and heels with her long hair in soft curls over her shoulders. The dress is simple with thin straps on her shoulders that cross in the back and a cut up to her knee which gives me a peek of her perfect legs when she walks. I’m literally stunned speechless.

“I’m ready. Don’t you look handsome.” She says with a smile as she makes her way to me.

“God damn, Sugar. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.” I tell her honestly and her cheeks blush as she gives me her shy smile. I wrap my arms around her, angling the ring box away from her body and inhale her perfume. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

“I’m tempted to keep you here all to myself but you look so stunning it would be a shame not to show you off.” I whisper in her ear and she giggles.

“Let’s take a picture since we are all dressed up?” She asks and holds her phone out for a selfie. She giggles in the first picture as I kiss her cheek before she makes me smile for a real photo of us together. 

“Perfect.” She says as she reviews the photos on her phone.

“Hungry?” I ask and her tummy responds with a little growl which makes me chuckle.

“Let’s go get that fancy shmancy dinner. If their portions suck, just know I’m going to come back here and order a burger from room service.” I joke as Emma wraps her arm through mine and intertwines our fingers. She seems a bit surprised when I lead her towards the ocean rather than one of the big restaurants on the property until she spots the gazebo covered in twinkle lights at the end of the pier. There’s a man there holding a bottle of red wine near a table covered in flowers and candles atop a white tablecloth and I hear Emma whisper “holy shit” to herself as I lead her towards our dinner location. The water gently crashes against the shore around us and the sunset has cast an array of different colors into the sky, mostly orange and pink which even I can admit is gorgeous. I take a peek at my watch and see that we have about 40 minutes until the sun is officially set. Damn, I did better than I thought with setting this up. I can only hope the photographer I hired has set up somewhere and will be able to get pictures. 

“Oh my god, Austin.” Emma says with large eyes filled with surprise at our dinner location.

“Wanted to spoil my girl.” Is the only excuse I offer, hoping it will be enough for now.

“This is beyond stunning! Thank you, baby.” She says as she looks around and begins eating her meal. I had to order for us in advance since we aren’t in an actual restaurant, and I chose filet mignon, seasoned vegetables, small potatoes and bread. I planned to propose after she ate so we talked about how amazing the vacation has been so far, and if there were any excursions she would like to go on. She decided she would like to stay around the resort and get a couple’s massage tomorrow. I’ve never had a professional massage, but am not opposed to the idea especially if Emma is with me.

Before I knew it, the waiter had left to retrieve our dessert and we were both finished eating the main meal. It was time for me to propose. I was nervous as hell but after a large gulp of wine and a deep breath, I began. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine.

“Em, I couldn’t be happier that we took this trip together and even more so that we officially get to go back home together since I somehow sweet-talked you into moving in with me. I know I’m not the best with words, tending to rely more on my actions to show you how I feel but I’m trying to get better about that. You deserve every single day to be told how incredible you are. I want…I wanted to tell you how deeply I love you. I’ve never felt like this before and I truly didn’t think this type of love and connection would exist in my universe. You are an incredible veterinarian and the best mama to Aika and Mills. I know that you will be the most amazing mother to our future kids one day and it makes me so excited about the future. You are the most beautiful, loving, generous, stubborn and funny woman wrapped all into one and I consider myself the luckiest man in the world to have you as mine. That being said, I would love to have you become mine in every way. Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Sugar?” While I was speaking, I moved around the table and got down on my good knee while holding her left hand. I pull the ring box from my pocket and open it up to reveal the ring that I got her.

“Holy crap! Really?” Emma says with wide but tear filled eyes and jumps from her seat.

“Really, Darlin’” I answer with a nervous chuckle.

“Austin, oh my god! YES!” She squeals with a little excited jump as tears pour down her cheeks. I pull the ring from the box but before I can even slide it on her finger, Emma is suddenly on her knees nearly choking me in a tight hug before her lips find mine. She kisses me passionately and I feel the wetness from her tears against my cheek as she kisses me deeply. 

“I love you so much and I can’t wait to marry you.” She says against my lips.

“I love you too, Sugar. Can’t wait for you to be my wife.” I say and I pull back and slide the ring on her finger before wiping her eyes.

Emma holds out her hand to admire the ring. “We can get something else if that isn’t what you had in mind.” I tell her, hoping she’ll be honest with me.

“Oh, Austin, this is more beautiful than I could have imagined! I love it baby.” She says with another kiss before I help her up off of the pier. I smile when the photographer that I hired, Joseph, walks down the pier and introduces himself before congratulating us and asking to take a few more photos before the sun sets. We take several photos before sitting down to eat the dessert brought by our waiter that’s covered in chocolate and drink the champagne that he brought along with it.

All I can think about is the fact that she said yes and was going to become my wife. Emma is smiling from ear to ear and she’s absolutely radiant as she looks down at the ring weighing on her finger.

“How did you know my size?” She asks.

“I took the ring your grandma gave you while you were at work. I know you don’t wear it there since it’s hard to put on with gloves, so I had them measure it at the jeweler.” 

“Brilliant. Thank you for having someone take photos. I can’t wait to see them!”

“Ah, that was a request from your mama and I’m glad she made it because I didn’t think anything about it.”

“You talked to my mom?”

“Of course, and your dad. Had to get their permission and show them the ring.” I tell her and she giggles with a beaming smile.

She wanted to facetime her parents so while we were there, she called them and proudly announced that she said yes and we were getting married. They spoke for only a few minutes with endless congratulations and excitement before she wanted to call my Nana and PawPaw and tell them as well. After that call where we had to practically hang up on my Nana who I imagined was flitting around the room with her excitement, we took a stroll along the moonlit beach hand in hand.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, Sugar.”

“I can’t believe we are getting married! This is everything that I ever wanted and more. You are everything I could have wanted, Austin Daniel Syverson.” She says and kisses me.

“Mmm…” I grunt and she licks into my mouth and presses her body against mine. 

“Fuck, Mrs. Emma Syverson sounds so good.” I tell her and she moans as I kiss near her ear.

“Take me to bed, future husband.”

“My pleasure.” I grunt as I reluctantly peel my body from hers so that we can go back to our room. 

Once we arrived, I’m pleased to see that the staff went above and beyond for us. Filling the large tub with bubble and flowers, champagne chilling on ice, and rose petals carefully arranged across the perfectly made bed to spell out, CONGRATS. Candles have been lit and are placed throughout the room giving it such a romantic feel.

I walk up behind Emma who was admiring the romantic setup and pressed my body against her back.

She quickly turned around and kissed me hungrily.

“I love you so much, Darlin’.” I whisper in her ear as she starts unbuttoning my shirt.

“I love you more, baby.” She says as she pushes the dress shirt from my shoulders.

“Not possible.” I turn her around and find the zipper to her dress and push the straps off of her shoulders to reveal that she was wearing a lacy black bra and matching thong set under that dress. I bite my lip and push away my desire to be rough with her. Tonight, I’m going to make this as romantic as I can. Slow and sensual.

I pick her up and place her gently on her back on the rose covered bed before stripping myself down to my navy boxers. 

“Austin, I need you.” She moans as her hands roam up and down her body in an attempt to ease her need.

“I’m gonna take my time with you tonight, Sugar. Want to show you how much I love you. Gonna make love to you, angel.” I tell her before kissing her deeply. I kiss all over her, removing the strapless bra first on my journey down her body, before removing her panties and spreading her legs to fit my wide shoulders. I kiss along her hip bones before finding my place at the apex of her thighs. Gently sliding my finger across her sensitive skin, I spread her wetness before gently guiding one finger, and then another inside of her before licking, sucking and kissing her folds. Focusing on her clit, I glance up to see the reflection of her engagement ring shining in the candlelight as she reaches up to grasp her breast and I instinctively rut against the mattress. Fuck, this is my fiancé. I’m going to marry this woman falling apart underneath me. I groan against her pussy. Emma moans and gasps soft, ‘oh fuck’ or ‘yes baby, right there!’ as I work to pleasure her. I focus even harder to get her to her climax and before I realize it, Emma is squirting her release across my fingers and chin. I lick and slurp her arousal before gently removing my fingers and caressing her thighs. Emma is positively wrecked above me as she tries to come down from reaching her peak. I use this opportunity to dry my fingers on my boxers which are wet with precum before I slide them off and lean back over Emma to kiss her. 

“You’re so beautiful.” I tell her and she gives me her shy smile.

“Never seen anything more gorgeous than you coming apart for me, Sugar.” I continue before she wraps her arms around my neck.

“Make love to me, Sy.” She tells me as she reaches down between us and guides my cock into her tight wet channel. I groan as I fill her up inch by inch with me. God, she feels so good. Will this ever stop being so amazing? I really don’t think it will.

“Baby, you feel so good.” Emma says as I start to thrust into her. She starts kissing on my neck and moaning in my ear and I swear I’m biting my lip to keep from coming before her. Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I intertwine our hands above her head and rut into her.

I continue to thrust into her as we share heated kisses, our tongues dancing against each other and gentle nips at each other’s lips. I gently tug on her nipples and grope her breasts as we find our highs together and I release my seed into her warmth.

I roll over beside her as we are coming down from our orgasms. Every muscle in my body is now fully relaxed since she said yes to my proposal. I was more nervous than I even admitted to myself and now, my body felt almost jello-like as I felt the relief surge through me. I reached down and brought Emma’s hand to my lips as I kissed her engagement ring and she rolled over on top of me.

“Thank you for making all of my dreams come true.” She whispers.

“Thank you for doing the same, Sugar.” I smile at her and kiss her forehead. A few moments later, I can feel us getting sleepy so I pick her up bridal style and place her in the bathtub that was set up for us before following her in. We relax against each other as she sleepily but excitedly recounts her thoughts of the dinner and my proposal and I smile the entire time she talks. Emma is so happy and I feel a surge of pride as though I had successfully made this as romantic as I possibly could have for her.

Emma is asleep against my chest roughly forty-five minutes later and I gently rouse her so that I can dry her off and get her ready for bed. She wants her makeup off so I help her wipe her face with her makeup wipes before we brush our teeth and climb into the pristine bed still covered in rose petals now in disarray.

Emma is wrapped around me like usual with her head against my chest as I gently stroke through the soft curls of her hair.

Thinking she’s already asleep, I admire the ring on her little hand and smile knowing that she’s agreed to forever with me.

“Goodnight, fiancé. I love you.” She whispers and I smile before kissing the top of her head.

“Goodnight, my bride. I love you too.” 

Part 18

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly

A/N:

This is how I felt while writing the proposal! Sorry y'all will have to wait a little bit on the balcony smut, but I wanted to keep this one romantic 🥰❤️ Hope y'all liked it!

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Fall From Grace

pairing: ???!Joshua x angel!fem!reader

genre: minor fluff, smut, supernatural!AU

warnings: religious imagery, hierophilia, corruption kink, dacryphilia, use of the petname angel, degradation, creampie, manhandling, reader is a virgin

word count: ~1.6k

summary: Priests are said to be the preachers of God’s word, keeping their lambs to the path of light. But a certain priest is able to make even the messenger of God fall from grace.

The residents of the small town are leaving the church one by one, most of them exchanging wishes for the holidays, some of them lighting a last candle before exiting...and some of them sharing the gratitude to the young priest.

“Our town is so blessed to have you, Father Joshua”, the mayor gives him a heartful handshake. “Please, Sir, you can call me Joshua, I’m not even that old”, the priest lets out a laugh. “He’s right, Dad! Can’t you see that you’re making him uncomfortable?”, the mayor’s daughter chimes in, “Besides, he’s probably around my age, he could be your son”, she adds, batting her eyelashes towards Joshua, hoping the man would give her the attention she desires carnally.

“Sweetheart, please behave”, the old man reprimands the lady with a cough. “So, Fath- Joshua, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? We would love it if we could have you in our company on this holy night”, the mayor’s wife asks, hoping to receive a positive answer.

“I am honored by this invitation, but I must kindly decline, Ma’am”, Joshua flashes an apologetic smile, “Perhaps some other time”. “Oh, well, that is quite unfortunate”, the kind old lady frowns lightly, “But we will not pressure you anymore, dear child”. 

“I very much appreciate this. Merry Christmas and enjoy your dinner”, he grins happily and the couple walks away, the daughter staying behind.

“It’s such a pity you won’t be able to come tonight, Father”, the girl pouts her lips, “I could have shown you some local hospitality”, she runs her hand over his chest, eyes trailing down between his legs. “I am sure you would, little lamb”, Joshua’s eyes darken, the corner of his mouth curling upwards in a smirk, “Just like those times you come here to confess“, he slurs the word, his hand smoothly running between her legs, ghosting her covered crotch, a low whimper falling from her lips.

“Your parents are waiting for you, little lamb. Don’t make them wait too long”, he chuckles and the girl leaves, biting her bottom lip at the unspoken, dirty promise.

Within a few moments, the church becomes deserted, only the burning candles lighting up the majestic house of God. Joshua settles the Bible on the altar, cradling the rosary in his hands, whispering a final prayer to the heavens.

“You must be a complete fool to dare speak to His Holiness, after commiting such sins, human”.

Joshua turns around and feels like his eyes are about to burn from the light of your pearly white feathers and the silken white robes adorning your body. He feels like bowing down to your majestic power.

“To what I owe the honor of witnessing a messenger of the God himself?”, he kneels on the wine colored carpet, his pitch black robes pooling around him. 

“You have no right to soil the name of our kind by letting it fall from your lips, sinner”, you sternly reprimand him, “How dare you use His word to lead innocent people astray with your-”, “Actions?”, he raises his eyebrow, lips quivering in a smile.

“You are a disgrace, Joshua. You should be judged and punished for the sins you’ve committed”, “Sins? I have committed no sin”, Joshua gets up, taking step after step closer to you, your wings fluttering defensively. 

“Tell me, o angel of God, why am I the one being judged for my actions, instead of the people coming to me, asking-”, “Stop”, “No, begging to fulfill the sole acts that make the human nature whole”, he boldly defends himself.

“Silence!”, you shout at him, “You are...so vile and-”, “Tempting?”, he cuts you off, standing right in front of you. He’s much taller than you thought - and much more attractive than you wish to admit.

“Ever since I was a child, I was always fascinated by angels”, his hand comes up to touch your wings, a sharp gasp echoing in the church as you feel the pads of his fingers on your pristine wings. “Such holy and pure creatures, a manifestation of the God’s words”, his gravelly voice slowly turning into whispers, “Utterly unable to feel malice or become tainted....Or so it is, until they descend upon Earth”.

You grab his wrist and with a flutter of your wings, you push him flat against the altar, making him gasp out loud. “You have no right to say such things”, you grit your teeth, “Thinking you can walk around in the house of God and defile it with your...”, “What is it that you want to say, angel? That innocent girls come and offer themselves to me? Confess their sins to me, only to make them sin even more?”, Joshua smirks in your face, a smirk similar to that of the devil.

“Tell me, o angel...How does it feel to witness a lady like you letting herself getting consumed by her carnal desire, exposing herself to the lust the human nature can offer?”, he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the junction of your wings, making you shiver. He takes advantage of your momentary weakness and turn the two of you around, pinning you on the altar.

“Doesn’t it make you curious?”, his breath tickles your neck. “N-No”, you lie through your teeth. Yes, you were curious and jealous. Two sins committed at once, within the house of God. “Liar”, Joshua lets out a breathy chuckle and slams his mouth on yours, his tongue invading your mouth, hungrily licking your tongue.

Your surprised, weak whimpers make his chest swell with pride, knowing he’s so close to make you fall from grace. He doesn’t waste time to thread a hand on your robe and rip the silk from your legs, leaving your lower half exposed to him.

“How unfair of God to create such divine beauty and cage it within the Heavens”, Joshua runs his hands over your bare thighs, making you shiver at the contact. You could feel something different about him, something....sinful and sinister, something that should be burning you alive.

“You figured it out, didn’t you?”, he chuckles, ripping his priest robes apart, running a hand through his tousled black hair, a pair of blood red horns protruding from his soft locks, eyes changing from honey brown to a crimson red, revealing his true form.

“You’re...an incubus”, you say breathlessly, “But..how?”, “It was utterly painful to recite the words of your God”, Joshua groans as he takes out his cock, slapping it on your core, making you moan at the contact, your hand trying to cover your mouth from embarrassment, but he’s faster and pins your hands above your head, rending you immobile.

“But, damn, it was so worth it in the end”.

He guides his fat tip through your folds, each rub on your pussy making you drip on the altar - and his cock. 

“That’s it, my pretty angel, give yourself to me, like you were meant to”, he licks your lips, pushing himself in your tight heat, a loud sob bouncing off the marbles of the church, as you feel him set you on fire, ripping you in half in the most delicious way possible.

“H-Haahh, ahh”, you gasp, wings rustling on the cold surface, white feathers falling down on the ground, a few tears running down your cheeks. “Look at you, offering yourself to the child of Lucifer, letting him ravage your purity and claim you”, Joshua mocks you as he thrusts in you powefully, his thick cock dragging against your velvety walls. 

He leans down to lick your tears away, moaning at the divine taste. “I had heard about the tears of a virgin tasting like nectar, but angel tears are definitely something else”, he places kisses on your neck, dragging his tongue over your skin. “You’re so hideous”, you whine, legs twitching with every move of his hips.

“Hideous? And what would that make you, dear?”, Joshua asks with an amused smile, his red irises burning in yours, waiting for your answer.

“Y-Yours”, “Hm?”, “I said I’m yours!”, you scream on top of your lungs, “It should have been me instead of that girl!”, you admit between tears. a wicked grin making its way on his lips. “Thought you’d never say it, pretty”, he licks his lips and lets your hands go, gripping your wings under your back for leverage and doubles his pace, viciously ramming his cock in your cunt, chasing his high.

“J-Joshua, i-it’s too- good! D-Don’t stop!”, you moan, the burning sensation rapidly spreading on your lower stomach, as if a rope is about to snap. 

And that rope snaps. Hard. 

Your eyes roll in the back of your head and it’s enough to make Joshua explode inside you, his cock flooding your pussy with his cum, overflowing it and coating your walls with it. He lets out the most sinful moan, the surge of energy coursing through his veins.

He pulls out of you slowly and watches you falling limp on the altar, a satisfied expression on his face as you let out soft yet depraved moans, your wings starting to turn into an ashen gray, your torn robe hiding almost nothing of your body, legs wide spread and his seed freely flowing from your used core, staining the praying site of the one you used to call God.

“So this... is how an angel falls from grace”.

[halfetirosie]

Important info from the Prison · Riot · Revolt PV! (Reaction post)

Quincy once again letting out his Introvert Dad tendencies, doing some casual wood-working---AND IT'S TOPPER!!!!♡♡♡♡♡ I don't think enough people talk about how CUTE Quincy is!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

2. EIden's hair..... WHAT THE HELL, I LOVE IT?!!!! It's giving me EMO VIBES..... I'm hopeful that the outfit this time will be just as good!!!!

(after the last two events, where I didn't like Eiden's outfit very much--peace and love--I was really hope the new one would be a good one)

3. EIDEN'S-THIGHS APPRECIATION!

and also

🚨PRETTY HAND ALAERT!!!!!!!🚨

4. When Ed says "Will you do as you're told from now on?" and THEN WE SEE THIS

EIDEN LOOKIN CRIMINALLY HANDSOME (get it, "criminally handsome?" please laugh, or at least giggle, if only out of pity),

but more importantly; FELLOW ED LOVERS, I THINK OUR PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED

I THINK EIDEN DOES THE OL' PRISONER-AND-WARDEN-SWITCH-AUTHORITY FANTASY THING WITH EDMOND; I suspect Edmond will still get to be as subb-y as ever in both of his scenes!!!

5. MY WIFE!!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

JUST LOOK AT HIS FACE!!!@#%!!!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I HAVE THE SUDDEN IMPULSE TO SQUISH HIS CHEEKS

(I mean, his face cheeks, but I will also accept other cheeks if they're available.... )

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[imyourrjoy]

The power held over me

Summary: A new duo arrives in jackson after being found in the snow, praying

Warnings : DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!!!!!, abusive parents, toxic religion, toxic people all around, misogyny, hitting, threats, self dought,fear , stop here if it's too much the series will just get darker

Word count : 2.6k

Paring : dark!Joel Miller x pastors daughter!afab!reader

Part 1 / ?????

Masterlist

A/n : she's dark, very dark. This is your last waring, btw. And thanks so much to my pokie wookie bear @xoxo-honeyy for helping me revisit and figure most of it out she's amazing not only for that but also putting up with my dyslexic ass, ily pokie 💋 and give her love as well.

The cold was the worst, especially in a dress. Your dad gave you his jacket but you were still freezing despite the extra protection. The two of you had somehow ended up near a lake, Your father said he could hear a dam nearby, you didn’t know what a dam was, but apparently, it meant that people were near since it's on that means people near and we should be careful and should pray before we continue to pray that God keeps us safe for another day.

You kneeled down on the dense snow. Your legs against the snow made you feel even colder, but your father said to thank Jesus under all circumstances and not to complain in his name.

Your father started the prayer in a loud, confident voice, “Dear heavenly father, we kneel here to ask you for guidance and appreciation to ask for help as you guide us on your path and lead us to safety and not shen ways of harm, amen.”

Bringing your hands to a prayer position you continued praying hoping the cold would go away.

“Hands up”

Your eyes flew open and you saw your father being held at gunpoint, people on horses, and dogs barking. You almost screamed in fear. Were they raiders?, slavers?, or worse were they sinners?

“She said hands up.” Another voice barked at you.

You looked at your dad and put your hands up. The people looked warm physically and emotionally, you felt jealous of them, you tried to will the jealousy away but nothing was working. You repeated the prayer in your head, I am sorry, God, I am not jealous. I am grateful for your gifts. The people then started talking to one another.

“Send out the dog and make sure they're not bit”

“We can assure you we aren't. We are children of God just like you all”

The dogs barked and sniffed us. Then, a different member of the group walked up to us getting off of their horse, and they walked right up to you.

“Stand up, you poor thing, no pants in this weather.”

The brown-haired woman tied her jacket around your legs.

“Thank you,” You replied.

“Don’t touch her,” Your father stood up, but the lady just ignored him.

“Lower the guns. We should take them into town the get some real clothes,” The brown-haired woman seemed to be in charge which seemed odd, you thought men were the ones who were supposed to lead?

Town? You’d only heard stories about places like that. Your father told you that when your mother was alive before the devil took her for being a sinner, that's when you all lived in a little house near the water, a large lake more specifically.

“She is in more than enough clothes”

The lady shot your father a scathing look, “Tommy ride with him and take his backpack. I’ll take the girl.”

The man, Tommy, took your father towards his horse, and the lady took you to hers. When you started the long journey, you were in awe of the surroundings, but nothing could compare to the smell. The smell of fresh food, fire, and the snow falling you were utterly captured by it. When you see large wooden gates and lots of people with guns, you think to yourself i'll pray for them.

"Welcome to Jackson,"

She said as the gates opened, she'd never seen anything like that. it was a town where the stories were true? We rode in, and she helped me off the horse. You were a little worried you hadn't seen my Dad since he got on Tommy’s horse.

"He's fine. Tommy's just gonna show him around while I get you some clothes. What's your name?"

she gave her a smile of relief.

You gave them your name and they smiled warmly

She started walking and you followed her into a shop like building full of clothes she looked at some jeans and before she could hold them up you interrupted her,

"I can't wear pants."

She almost laughed.

"And why is that?"

"It's a sin,"

She scoffed.

"God would rather you live than freeze."

She handed me a pair of jeans``.” you were shocked someone would ever say his name like that.

"But my D-"

"Go change,"

She cut me off and looked for a top, a simple sweater. You were so scared you were gonna go to Hell if she put on these pants. You'll have to pray for hours for God to forgive you.

"You can change there, and trust me, you won't die over pants."

"it's a sin,"

"Honey, trust me, you're not gonna die,"

You took a deep breath and walked into the changing room. You wanted to cry. You were gonna die for this, burn in Hell for eternity, and be with those monsters. You took off the layers and layers of jackets and a dress. The tears started flowing as you put on the jeans. You felt like you had committed the worst crime in the world, and you started begging for forgiveness as you changed.

You started mumbling quickly under your breath, "Dear heavenly father, I am a sinner, and many have sinned by your grace. She prays for my and others' forgiveness. Have mercy on me, your faithful servant of God, according to your faith and love. "

You put on the top, “.” wiped your tears, and walked out of the changing room. When you came out, she the lady had a pink jacket.

"Here she'll keep you warm, and the color suits you."

She was right. The color did suit you.

"Thanks."

"Put it on, let's make sure it fits, and after I'll show you around town."

You put on the jacket and zipped it up. As We walked out, you kept your head low. You shouldn't look at other people if you are in the midst of sin. At least, that's what dad says. She showed me the canteen, a woodworking shop, and even a school. Then you saw my dad and the man, you ran up to them.

"Dad!"

You threw yourself at him and he caught me pulling me into a big hug

"Oh my love, it's ok. You’re safe, God has found us home at last,"

You smiled and saw Tommy go up to maria

"Dad, we need to find a place to pray."

You were so ashamed of the pants, and it seemed like my dad started getting angry.

"We will. They have a church we shall go there and pray for forgiveness and pray you won't become a monster like the rest of the sinners in the world, my love,"

Maria and Tommy walked back up to you and you're dad.

"Well, before we bring you guys to your lodging, we need to talk about the rules, and you all look parched. Let's go to the canteen and get some food?" Tommy said.

my dad nodded in agreement as we all started making our way to the canteen. The closer we got, the more the scent of freshly cooked food invaded your senses, it was so much different from the old canned beans we usually had. We walked into the canteen. It was made of beautiful wood, lights hanging from the ceiling, people giving out plates of food, and others eating it was beautiful.

"Here, I'll take the young lady to get some food. y’all can find a place to sit,"

Tommy walked me to the line of the canteen

"We have rabbit or sheep today, which would you like?"

"Sheep, rabbits are too cute to eat."

Tommy laughed and got two plates and started putting sheep on both.

"So I hear your names y/n is that correct?"

"Yes."

He started putting vegetables onto the plates.

"And your dad is a preacher or just a very devoted man of God?"

she thought that was a dumb question, he's a pastor he told me he was dressed like a pastor. it made you laugh.

"A pastor, of course,"

We moved over to get drinks for you and your father, but before Tommy could grab the pitcher of water you weren't sure what it was sense it wasn't water colored more like mud you're not sure.a girl younger than me grabbed you were more shocked she had pants you hadn't thought of it but a lot of girls here wear pants she should pray for them

"Excuse me,"

She filled up her glass as Tommy protested, “Ellie”

she smiled as she left

"Sorry about her, she's my brother's kid, she's very outgoing, let's say."

"She's fine, but I am worried about the number of women in pants I'll have in my prayers. Does this place allow sinning?or something?" Your voice was filled with concern.

He continued to fill up the cups and looked confused”." That's one way of looking at it for now. Let's just get you both fed,"

We all sat down at the table. You've never eaten so fast, and that water,which was apparently sweet tea, you think too yourself it's probably your new favorite thing. Dad kept telling me to slow down, but you couldn't. You were so hungry and happy to eat something real.

"So, Maria told me you have a multi-faith church?" Your dad asked as he finished eating and scraped the leftovers onto your plate.

Maria replied in a calming tone, "Yes and you’re a preacher, so I’m assuming you would like to have a mass of some sort, which is fine with me and with the council, but first we need to go over the rules the whole reason we came here"

At the mention of rules, you stopped eating and started listening.

"All able-bodied people over the age of 18 unless, unable to due to their health, a disability or lack of survival skills are required to patrol . We rotate every week, two people are in a group. We classify ourselves as a commune which means we all share everything, nothing belongs to just one person, we all respect one another. As well, pitch in and have jobs based on what skills we have or what we're good at. Understand?"

You noticed your dad wasn't too fond of the rules, but he both nodded in agreement.

"So how old is your daughter?" Tommy inquired.

Your dad sighed, "Around 19, we don't know specifically, but she was born about a year after the outbreak. My wife at the time had just gotten pregnant,"

You kept my head down, you missed your mom a lot, she wasn't like my dad she loved God and they taught me to love Him but she liked to tell me about my room shen the town, teach me to read and write she hated that she was a sinner as dad says she didn't believe enough you remember the verse we read for her after she died “For the wages of sin she's dead”. Dad says she wasn't devoted enough.

"Joy, how do you make a fire?"

Tommy asked me the question, and you laughed,"My dad makes those they aren't ladylike"

You doesn't know why he looked taken back. You're a woman. You're supposed to cook,look pretty for your husband and put God above all.

"Joy, you see that girl over there,"

Marshea pointed to a group of girls, including the one who took the pitcher, you nodded."How about you introduce yourself? Make some friends while Tommy and she talk to your dad."

You smiled and walked up to the girls. They all had tea and some food. They all wore pants as well. Before she could say anything a dark-hashered girl spoke

"New to Jackson?"

she nodded

"No way, hey”

The girl from earlier hit my shoulder playfully

"Well I’m Ellie welcome. To my humble abode, take a seat”, you took a seat next to her

"So how'd you find Jackson?” Ellie questions and then thinks for a second, “or did the patrolman find you?

" Well, my father and I just keep moving and, apparently, have traveled throughout. for my whole life moving looking for the place God wants us. And we saw the dam which is when my dad said we should start praying for people or a town, that’s what it’s called right?"

Ellshee immediately responded, chuckling a bit, “Gosh, aren’t you ancient.”

The girl, Ellshee, laughed louder, and it got to your head. Maybe she’s just not used to someone like you?. Maybe it's because you didn't know what town is was?. Either way, it, didn't feel good.

"Ellie, don't be mean" The gruff and slightly hoarse voice came from behind me.

You quickly turned my head to see an older man with graying hair with brown spots sprinkled throughout it, There were also prominent scars on his nose and temple, To say the least, the man looked frightening

"Oh come on"

Ellie protested but the man shushed her.

"Y’ know Ellie, she could probably teach you a thing or two, a girl like her shes a woman of God." He sent a sly wink towards you

He took a seat across from us and Ellie rolled her eyes, "Hi there hon I'm m Joel and this here is my daughter, Ellie don't mind her she's a bit rough around the edges"

"I am not"

she laughed at the little bantering and you got asked the same basic questions before Maria walked up to us,

"she see you've met Tommy's brother,” there was a slight frown on her face,

“come on it's time to see your new home"

You waved goodbye to the pasher and met up with Tommy and my dad again. We all started walking through the town , towards an a cute little house with a small porch and yellow panels.

"The heat, water, and electricity are on and Father you can't wait to see what your Sunday mass is like don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything."

Tommy gave my dad the keys and they walked away after saying goodbye for the night. The house was the same as the rest but it had some personality. It was dusty but rustic. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen that worked a couch, and TV that wasn't of any use but still, it was so nice everything was until my dad looked at me up and down.

"Why the pants? Is my daughter a monster, a sshenner, unfaithful to her lord"

You looked down and the floor,

"Marshea told me that she wouldn't burn and that shet was prac-"

Before you could finish your sentence my father hit me across the face

"Practical your put practicality over your lord and savor????"

Cold dread washed over your body.

"No Dad i-"

He hit me again making me fall to the floor, then he grabbed a fistful of my hasher

"Tomorrow you're getting rid of those pants, if i see them again i'll see to it that God knows of every sin that my child has committed and that my prayers for her forgiveness for her not to become those monsters were all for nothing as her love for him was fake"

You started crying once my dad let me go. He walked into one of the bedrooms while you sat there crying until finally making my way to bed.

You got on your knees and started your nightly prayers you needed to pray for myself, my Father, and God

You brought your hands together

"Dear heavenly father, thank you for your bountiful love and sacrifice. Thank you for leading me and my father to Jackson. I am sorry I have committed the sin of wearing pants. she shall never do it again. My lord, your Bible is the truth, and I am your faithful servant. I pray for my forgiveness as well as the forgiveness of the woman shen Jackson also guilty of this crime. I pray for my mother that though she's a sinner, you forgive her shen the afterlife, and may the devil have mercy on her. And lastly, I pray for my father. I pray that he stays healthy and bountiful. Praise the Lord as he watches over us in our sleep amen."

[traumacatholic]

I was told there is a 50% chance I'll need a root canal that I just can't afford. I don't know how much more stress and humiliation I can take. prayers appreciated greatly.

I'm really sorry to hear this. It would also be worth looking into local and national charities and seeing if there's any that exist that can offer financial aid / support for dental treatments that are outside of your budget. I would imagine that there would be some support and advice for people in your position. Please also do consider reaching out to your local Church (or local Churches) and seeing if there's any kind of support and guidance they can provide. They might be able to signpost you to some kind of support, but at the very least having their prayers also can be of some great comfort and support.

I'm going to put some prayers under the readmore, that you might find to be of help

Prayers for all sick people

O Lord Almighty, healer of our souls and bodies, Who putteth down and raiseth up, Who chastiseth and health also; now, in Thy great mercy, visit our brothers and sisters who are sick. Stretch forth Thy hand that is full of healing and health, and raise them up, and cure them of their illness. Put away from them the spirit of disease and of every malady, pain and fever to which they are bound. And if they have sins and transgressions, grant to them remission and forgiveness, for Thou lovest humankind. Yea, O Lord my God, have pity on Thy creation, through the compassions of Thine only-begotten Son, together with Thine all-holy, good, and life-creating Spirit, with whom Thou art blessed, both now and ever, and to ages of ages.

Prayers for yourself in sickness

O Lord Jesus Christ our Saviour, the Physician of our souls and bodies, Who didst become Man and suffer death on the Cross for our salvation, and through Thy tender love and compassion didst heal all manner of sickness and affliction: do Thou, O Lord, visit me in my suffering, and grant me grace and strength to bear this sickness with which I am afflicted, with Christian patience and submission to Thy will, trusting in Thy lovingkindness and tender mercy. Bless, I pray Thee, the means used for my recovery, and those who administer them. I know, O Lord, that I justly deserve any punishment Thou mayest inflict upon me, for I have so often offended Thee and sinned against Thee in thought, word, and deed. Therefore, I humbly pray to Thee, look upon my weakness, and deal not with me according to my sins, but according to the multitude of Thy mercies. Have compassion on me, and let mercy and justice meet; and deliver me from the sickness and suffering I am undergoing. Grant that my sickness may be the means of my true repentance and amendment of my life according to Thy will, that I may spend the rest of my days in Thy love and fear; that my soul, being helped by Thy grace and sanctified by Thy holy mysteries, may be prepared for its transition to the eternal life and there, in the company of Thy blessed saints, may praise and glorify Thee with Thy Eternal Father and Life-giving Spirit. Amen.

* * *

O Holy Father, heavenly Physician of the body and soul, Who hast sent Thine Only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, to heal ailments and deliver us from death; do Thou heal me, Thy servant, of all suffering, and restore me to health by the grace of Thy Divine Son, through the intercessions of our Most Holy Queen Ever-virgin Mary, the Mother of God, and all the saints. For Thou art the Fountain of all cure, O Lord, and we give thanks to Thee, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, now and forever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Prayer for Protection

O Lord, Thou who steadied the hand of Peter as he began to sink on the stormy sea, if Thou are with me, no one is against me. Grant to me the shield of faith and the mighty armor of the Holy Spirit to protect me and guide me to do Thy will. The future I put into Thy hands, O Lord, and I follow Thee to a life in Christ. Amen

Prayers for Oneself in Time of Need

Almighty God, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, come to my help and deliver me from this difficulty that besets me. I believe Lord, that all trials of life are under Your care and that all things work for the good of those who love You. Take away from me fear, anxiety and distress. Help me to face and endure my difficulty with faith, courage and wisdom.

Grant that this trial may bring me closer to You for You are my rock and refuge, my comfort and hope, my delight and joy. I trust in Your love and compassion. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Prayer for Oneself in Times of Sickness

O Lord, Healer of our bodies and souls, visit me with Your loving-kindness and stretch forth Your hand of healing. Raise me up from this bed of sickness, and heal me of all disease, pain, and fever that is binding me. We bless and honour You, our most holy Father, gracious Son, and life-creating Spirit, both now and forever. Amen. Almighty God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, because You love mankind, pity Your creation. Your only-begotten Son taught us that not even the smallest sparrow falls to the ground without Your knowledge. We pray to You for Your servant [name here], for the healing of body and soul. Calm me with confidence in the fullness of Your love. To You belongs all our praise and worship, to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, unto ages of ages. Amen.

Prayer to St. Spyridon of Trimythus

O most blessed hierarch Spyridon, thou great Saint of Christ and glorious wonder-worker!

Standing in heaven before the throne of God with choirs of Angels, look down with a compassionate eye upon the people gathered here (names may be added) and asking thy powerful help.

Entreat the merciful kindness of God Who loveth mankind, that He judge us not according to our iniquities, but rather act towards us according to His mercy.

Ask for us of Christ our God, a peaceful and serene life, health of soul and body, a fruitful earth, and in all things abundance and prosperity; that we turn not unto evil the good things bestowed upon us by our generous God, but rather unto His glory and the praise of thine intercession.

Deliver us, who with unswerving faith approach God, from all ills, whether spiritual or physical; from all discouragements and diabolical snares.

Be a consoler unto those in sorrow, a healer of the infirm, a helper of those in troubles, a coverer of the naked, a defender of widows, a protector of orphans, a nourisher of infants, a strengthener of the aged, a guide unto travellers, a compass to those that sail, and pray for all that seek thy mighty intercession, that they may receive all that is profitable unto their salvation: so that, taught and kept by thy prayers, we may attain eternal rest and together with thee glorify God, Who is One in the Holy Trinity, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages.

Prayer to Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker

Hierarch and father, O most holy Nicholas, thou extraordinary Saint of the Lord, our loving defender and ready helper in sorrows everywhere: help us sinners and hapless ones in the present life: entreat the Lord God to grant us remission of all of our sins, that we have committed from our youth and all our life, by deed, word, though and all our senses; and in the passing of our souls, help us wretched ones; entreat the Lord God and Maker of all creation, to deliver us from trials in the air and eternal torment: that we may alway glorify the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and thy merciful intercession, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Prayer in Time of Trouble 

O God, our help and assistance Who is just and merciful, and Who hears the supplications of Your people, look down upon me.  Have mercy upon me and deliver me from the trouble that besets me.  Deal not with me after my sins, but according to Your bountiful mercies, for I am the work of Your hands and You know my weakness. Grant me, I beseech You, Your divine helping grace, and endow me with patience and strength to endure my tribulations with complete submission to Your Will.  You know my misery and suffering and to You, my only hope and refuge, I flee for relief and comfort.  Trusting in Your infinite love and compassion, I know that in due time, when You know best, You will deliver me from this trouble and turn my distress into comfort.  I shall rejoice in Your mercy and exalt and praise Your Holy Name, of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, forever.  Amen.

[spacebaby1]

Can you do sukuna x Muslim reader? Where he is going through a hard time and she prayers for him(Arrange marriage but sweet kinda of relationship) it's okay if you don't want to write it. Love your writing:)

Yes! Omg I'd love to! Hope you like it!

It was an arranged marriage between you and you father's friends eldest son; Sukuna. You were having dinner one day with your parents and your dad had asked you if you'd be interested in an marriage with a nice man. You blinked at that question and shrugged, "I mean as long as you know he's a nice man I guess it's not bad in meeting him," you replied with a small smile.

After a week both your families decided to go out for dinner at a fancy restaurant and you saw him for the first time; he was not a talkative type, he was a gentleman and very well-known for his devotion to his work and family. You both talked then and there; he was charming not once he said something to make you mad or upset. He was very soft spoken to you. Your father had informed you after that dinner that Sukuna agreed to the wedding and he also said that if you reject him he'll understand and it's not pressure on your side to agree but you already decided that wanted to marry him; he was nice, gentleman and respectful and every other person that knew him said kind things about him.

Once you both agreed to get married Sukuna had texted you asking about what are your requirements for the wedding venue, cake, dress and everything else to which he also added that you shouldn't look at the price of anything; whatever your heart desires he'll agree to it. He wanted you to be happy, as of that didn’t already captured your heart, you both picked everything for the wedding together; nothing extravagant but very classy wedding with few of your friends and families.

Sukuna had bought you a home and it was not less than a castle; after the wedding he still spoiled you with gifts, and handed you all his credit cards to buy whatever you need. However you'd refuse to use his money on random things even though he said his money is your money from now on. He's been nothing but kind to you but also a bit shy some might say cold hearted; but he just didn't want you to fell uncomfortable around him. He'd often walk past a room and see you praying and would just stand at the doorframe to watch you and leaving before you see him.

One of the days he had a rough day, nothing seems to be in his favour that day, his meeting ended badly, the clients were complaining about some services and few stakeholders were arguing about something in the company. He got home with a heavy headache and saw the hot dinner you prepared for him, you entered the room and saw him, with a smile you took his bag and coat greeting him, "how was your day?" You asked and he just smiled not trying to bother you with his bad day, "it was good, I'm hungry." You nodded "come, let's eat, I made your favorite today." He was very grateful to have you at this moment, he ate his dinner and showered before going to sleep with a headache. Unfortunately the headache caught up to his sleep and he woke up in the middle of the night to find you not in bed, rubbing his temple he got up knowing where you are; in the prayer room.

Unlike everyday he didn't just stand by the doorframe to watch you pray. You werr done praying when you started to say the dua, "Dear God, thank you for all the blessings you gave me, thank you for the health and thank you the most for sending me such an amazing husband. He's very kind to me and caring towards me, I pray you bless him with health and well-being and a long life where we can be together always and honour each other, I really appreciate and," you paused with a smile, "I love him so much, I just wish he'd be less shy," you chuckled before continuing, "please God , keep him happy and safe, Ameen." Sukuna felt his heart melt at your words, he waited few minutes before knocking and walking in the room, you turned to smile at him as he took the seat beside you on your prayer mat. "Did I wake you up? I apo-" He cut your sentence short by placing his head on your shoulder as he sat beside you, "I've been feeling down all day, I had a very bad day-" he couldn't speak further without tearing down and you immediately wrapped your arms around him protectively so did he, holding you for dear life as he spoke and cried while you rubbed his back, "I don't know what to do, I want to just hide away and do n-nothing I'm just so so tired from today, I- I promise I'm not l-like this always b-but-"

"You have been working so hard lately, you need to rest, Husband," you softly spoke gently caressing his pink hair with your soft hands, "please, can you take few days off of work? You need to rest, it's not good to work and feel such pressure. Can you?" He nodded in you embrace, "y-yes I can take few days off." He slowly removed himself from your embrace chuckling as he whipped his nose and you whipped his tears with the end of your hijab before he placed his head on your lap and taking your hand and placing it on his forehead, "Sweetheart, would you please pray for me everyday?" He asked and you smiled down at him as you gently massaged his head, "with my whole heart, Husband." He blushed.

"Call me by my name," he chuckled, Now it was your turn to blush, "No!" You replied, and he chuckled, taking your other hand and placing his on his chest, "come on, just once, say my name." You rolled your eyes and spoke, "Sukuna." He blinked at you, "Again? Please?" He asked this time softly, and you tried hard to hide your smirk as you called his name, still massaging his head, "are you feeling better now? Sukuna?" He smiled and nodded eagerly, then closing his eyes, letting you massage his head some more.