#( left hand of the coven. )

[radiance1]

A castle mysteriously appears in Gotham one night.

Nobody who noticed it knows where it came from, nor how it got there as it seemingly appeared overnight. It wasn't anything big, as far as castle's were concerned, it seemed to be on the smaller side of things.

However, no one could truly estimate it's actual size. For there seemed to be an ever-present fog that never seemed to stray past the castle's gates.

Just like the fog, you always seemed to hear the cawing of crows and the flapping of bats whenever you step close enough. Yet their visibility was kept hidden in the fog.

Appearances aside, there did seem to be something... off, about the castle and not just because it appeared from thin air, no. It seemed to have a distinct aura of something... other.

No one knew how to explain it, but they could tell there was nothing natural about it. There was something fundamentally wrong with the castle, it wasn't the way it appeared out of nowhere, nor it's appearance.

===

When Sam finally became an adult, she didn't have to think twice about moving out. It was a bit difficult, with her parents not wanting to let her go just yet, but her grandmother managed to persuade them, thankfully.

When she was younger, Sam had always dreamed of owning a castle. Though its appearance did change in her mind when she grew older, from pretty and pink to one of darker colors and crows, which is why she never got one when she was younger, she realized.

But now that she was an adult, what was stopping her?

Nothing, that's what.

So, Sam buys one that matches her tastes and moves in. There was a lot of space, far more than she really ever thought about and now had to find a use for.

Magic.

Was something that enthralled Sam ever since she was young, that and the occult as a whole. So, for a few months after moving did she try and get her hands on things like magical tomes, items, scripts and learn it.

Surprisingly, she was strongly successful in her attempts of learning magic. It was surprising to be sure, but now that she compares it to the portal to the afterlife, having a half dead friend and having hunted down ghosts, she realizes that magic wouldn't be that much farfetched in the equation.

A fair bit of her time now was spent covering her castle in wards, sigils, and runes, ones that would strengthen themselves over time, various protection wards and multiple others that she found useful. Most of them were ones that she found through text, though others were ones she personally made.

After she finished the entirety of the castle, she studied thoroughly to gain more knowledge and power for herself, she even made a few spells of her own along with various potions. Unfortunately, she was interrupted in her studies by various other witches, because apparently having such a powerful fledgling witch on her lonesome was too tempting of an offer to pass up for the nearby covens.

So she had to... move, before they tried to force her to join them. As for how, well, she moved her entire castle! What better way to refuse, really?

Unfortunately, it was her first time using such large-scale teleportation magic and she messed it up. Not that her calculations on where the castle was supposed to be were wrong, but while in the midst of moving through space she was... thrown off kilter.

She didn't even know how or what caused her to mess up. But her castle both was and wasn't where she wanted it to be. Her original destination was coordinates near Amity Park, and while they were on said coordinates.

This wasn't Amity Park.

To say she worried was an understatement. She scrambled to find something about where she ended up, and realized not only was she thrown off kilter, but she was also thrown off so badly that she ended up in an entirely different dimension. Luckily, she managed to make the philosopher's stone.

To say making it was easy would be wrong, for even she didn't know how she created it. It was by accident and for a while she didn't even know she had made it, when she had and tried to do something with it the stone had, uh, well.

It fused into her skin.

It had placed itself right over her face, on her chest, and it granted her immortality it seemed. Though that wasn't the effect she was currently thankful for no, the effect of making gold would be valuable to her, she wouldn't have the Manson wealth, but she could at the very least sustain herself.

For now, though, she did have her studies to get back to.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #I remembered about my old au somewhere in the Batpham discord #I think it was called Hecate's castle or something? #But that had a hand in this post #Sam is a powerful witch and that attracted the gazes of various covens #So she just took her castle and left #Unfortunately something through off what was otherwise a successful large scale teleportation #And Sam ended up in the DC universe in Gotham #She also made the philosopher's stone but that one was more on accident than anything purposeful #Like she cannot replicate what she did to make it at all #If I see ghost king Danny in this post I will riot. #This is Sam-centric #We don't need that ghost twink in here #Sorry that was mean ily Danny #Not when your ghost king tho downgrade to a prince or non royalty and then we'll talk #AHEM #Anyways #I was thinking of how Sam could be called Hecate here but ahhhh #We'll see about that in the future lol #Wow this is a lot of tags #Anyways I shall stop now

[hasturstoad]

another bird dude thingie i drew recently

#toh #my art #the owl house #toh vitimir #vitimir #potions coven head #wtf with their left hand

[nightlarkcoven]

all the whimsical silly girls gays and theys are in nightlark coven! so why aren't you applying? :3

#witchblr #witch #witchcraft #divination #tarot #left hand path #coven

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Yandere!Vampire that was once royalty, living in a dilapidated castle, alone and depressed. As a human, he was surrounded by people. Everyone adored him, his golden curls and warm brown eyes charming the hearts of every noble that set eyes on him.

That was until his family was slaughtered by a coven of vampires, leaving him the only survivor. Now with no family, he was turned away from the nobles that once gathered at his side, calling him beautiful and intelligent. Now he was a beast, and was only left alive because no one dared to touch him.

As the years passed by, all that knew of his existence died out, meaning no one remembered or cared for him. In the past, he had at least been grateful he had been in someone’s thoughts, even if it was in a negative light. Now, no one even hated him. He was just nonexistent to the world outside his castle.

Centuries passed by, every day slowly picking at the last bits of his sanity. Days of past grandeur and the current day mixed together, leaving him in a state where he couldn’t tell whether he was back in the living arms of his family, or wandering the dark, crumbling hallways of his childhood home.

It was only when a soft, warm light flooded one of the abandoned rooms he had been standing in that the fog in his brain began to fade, allowing him to see what was in front of him for the first time in decades.

It was you, a young woman in a hoodie and jeans, holding a flashlight. You lived only a mile away, and had been exploring when you came upon ruins of what seemed like an ancient castle.

You had heard rumors of a person that wandered the ruins from the townsfolk, and old tales of vampires that had been passed down by tongue for centuries. Not believing them, you decided to see for yourself…

Your light shone upon what you first thought was an ethereal ghost or some kind of beautiful spirit. A man with a mop of blonde curls, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful pair of ruby red eyes you’ve ever seen stared back at you.

The person attempted to speak, but clutched his throat, as if he hadn’t spoken in so long, his vocal cords had forgotten how.

“H-hello?”

The man perked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes clearing up. It seemed just hearing another human speak made his undead heart leap, and he couldn’t help but stumble towards you.

You yelped when he crossed the room within seconds and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply.

The smell of another person, of sweat and perfume mixing together to make your own unique scent made him want to sob.

Of course you were freaked out, but the man holding onto you wasn’t hurting you, and you could feel warm tears soaking through your shirt. How could you turn away someone that was obviously in distress?

Unsurprisingly, the man followed you home. It didn’t take a genius to realize he wasn’t human. He was as pale as a sheet of paper, with no pulse or any color to his cheeks. His eyes were scarlet, a shade you had never seen a human have before.

Despite knowing this, you couldn’t help but care for him. He was thin, malnourished, with clothing that was so old and dirty that it nearly crumbled when he took them off.

“Are you hungry?”

You had taken to asking only yes or no questions, since he couldn’t speak. The man frowned, his eyes getting foggy for a second. You decided to ask again.

“Hello? Are you-“

He suddenly snapped back into reality, leaning forward to gently place his lips on your neck. You squeaked out in surprise when you felt his teeth sink into your neck… but it didn’t hurt. Instead, you only felt an uncomfortable pressure and draining sensation, and before long he was pulling back.

“Mmph…” he panted softly, blood running down his chin. “Was… so… thirsty…” he managed to say, his voice hoarse and small.

He cupped your cheek, holding your face in his hands and looking down at you with what could only be described as utter adoration.

“My love…”

From that point on, he was attached to your hip, following you everywhere you went like a lovesick puppy. Any time you were separated, he had severe anxiety, going back and forth from his dreamworld and reality. It was his coping mechanism, but it caused him to never understand what was real and what wasn’t.

You grounded him, made him feel safe and loved. Oh how he adored you. You had saved him from his lonely existence and taken him into your home as if he were a stray dog, and he was loyal like one. His loyalty came at a price, however, and that price was your freedom to do as you pleased.

Late nights out with friends became next to nonexistent, especially if he knew there would be any males there.

“I just want to protect you, my beloved. It’s a dangerous, cruel world. People will act as if they love you when they do not…”

And as you slowly became more and more isolated, his affections only grew. Kisses to your hand began to trail up your arm and to your neck. Snuggles turned into grinding and heavy petting, and even the most innocent of caresses became lewd in nature.

It didn’t take long for him to fuck you for the first time. After all, he had been pent up and alone for centuries, resisting taking you on the spot was excruciating.

The second he sunk into your pussy, he came. You were just so warm and your scent made his head fuzzy. He couldn’t help but fuck into you like a wild animal, feeding from your pretty neck as he filled you up over and over.

After the first time, a day didn’t pass by when he didn’t crave your intimate touch. Some days he was satisfied with heavy petting and kisses, others he couldn’t be satiated until his face was between your legs, lapping at your cunt for hours.

You were his, his mate, his lover. He couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore, so could you really blame him when he clung to you so tightly?

He just loved you, and he did such a good job at keeping you satisfied, just enough to where you didn’t look into the missing cases of your old lovers and male friends.

Why would you need to pay attention to any of that when your loving, attentive boyfriend was right there, ready to worship you from head to toe?

#monster fucker #monster fudger #monster fic #monster lover #x reader #chubby reader #chubby!reader #fem reader #female reader #monster boyfriend #vampire x reader #vampire imagine #vampire #vampire boyfriend #monster fuqqer #monster imagine #monster boy oc #monster smut #monster #vampire smut #x reader smut #reader insert #requests open #fem!reader #imagines #plus size reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #teraphilia

[indigovigilance]

Angel Pinky Rings

I'm going to get strangely obsessed with finger jewelry for a moment.

Please do not ask Neil Gaiman to confirm or deny.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale doesn't have a ring:

...then after the Beginning, he does:

...which he wears continuously for the rest of the story:

Archangel Michael

doesn't have a ring in Book of Job:

and then they do:

Uriel does:

...even Saraqael does:

...and Sandolphon:

...but not the Supreme Archangel

not in Book of Job:

and neither before Armageddidn't:

nor after:

...and not the 37th Order Scrivener:

Originally I thought the rings might denote rank, but Gabriel not having a ring throws a wrench in that.

Left vs. Right

Every angel that wears a ring wears it on their left hand (everyone except Saraqael wears it on their pinky, who wears it on their ring finger) except for Aziraphale, who consistently wears his pinky ring on his right hand. Furthermore, the style of each ring appears to be unique; we don't usually get a very good look at them (or at least I don't, I have kind of crappy hardware) but the differing styles seem to be meaningful to the individual. Putting it on the left may indicate that it has a negative connotation; the fact that Aziraphale's ring is on the right sets him apart.

Protecting the Ring

Additionally, all the angels that have rings, when they fold their hands, tend to cover up their ring-bearing hand, almost protectively:

Semi-Rational Theory

The rings are vessels of memory: they are only worn by angels who have transgressed against God's will, and are worn forever after as a symbol of the covenant made between the Creator and the Servant. They dump the memories of their transgressions into the ring so that their minds are made clean, but carry the mark of their prior sin with them for the rest of time. Much like a rainbow, it serves as a promise that the transgressor will never transgress again. The angels protect it because, consciously or not, they know that this ring contains a part of themselves, and it is both precious and shameful.

Absolutely Irrational Theory

Aziraphale wears his ring on his right hand because it doesn't fit on his left. That's because it's not actually his ring; it is Angel!Crowley's, and he is keeping it safe for them. Crowley and/or Aziraphale might not even know anymore that that is what it is, but by some pact between them made before the Fall, it is in Aziraphale's stewardship to keep safe until such time as Crowley can safely have his memories restored.

Again: Please do not ask Neil Gaiman to confirm or deny.

EDIT: MAGGIE HAS A PINKIE RING

This bish is sus AF

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

If you would like to reblog, please reblog from this repost with additional content and references.

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

To read more of my original content on erasure theory:

Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley

The Erasure of Human!Metatron

Baraqiel and Azazel

or, my first and my most popular post to date:

A Nightingale Sang in 1941

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #archangel gabriel #archangel michael #archangel uriel #saraqael #sandolphon #erasure theory #ivoc #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #angel!crowley #angel rings #ring theory

[theemporium]

witch!reader being drained from using too much of her powers and she just slumps over onto the back patio couch and passes out and wakes up to find two wolves nosing at her with worried whines and she’s like “hi Charles, Max” and then falls back asleep while the boys are sharing a look and going WHAT THE FUCK

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You found it oddly endearing that the boys thought you were clueless to their secret.

You had known what they were the second you met them. You felt the shift in their auras, felt the rush of their true selves when you touched them for the first time. You knew. And you knew how protective wolves could get when it came to their kind, to their pack and the bonds they formed. You respected the fact they wouldn’t want to tell you instantly, but you knew. 

The relationship grew stronger when you came clean about yourself (though you hadn’t done much to hide it), and both boys had accepted you instantly. There was no fear or hesitation or concern about the powers you harboured. If anything, it made them love you more but it wasn’t enough for them to come clean. And once again, you respected that. 

But it was sweet how unbelievably unsubtle they were with their attempts to hide their secret. You don’t think they realised how bad they were, but it amused you nonetheless. It became pretty obvious to you who the two wolves at the bottom of your garden were, or the reason they were following you when you would head into the woods to collect some ingredients. 

Yet, it still warmed your heart every time you saw the two large wolves—one dark brown and the other blond—always checking up on you.

And truthfully, you hadn’t meant to reveal your knowledge of their secret in such a way. 

It had been a long week. With the moon in the perfect position, aligned with the planets and stronger than it ever could be on a full moon, you had been overworking yourself. Most other witches had covens, they had someone else to supply them and take off the stress of the magic. But that wasn’t the case for you, and it meant that every spell was quickly dwindling your reservoir to the point of exhaustion. 

You tried to pace yourself, to give yourself enough time between spells to rest and rejuvenate. But the planets were shifting and you were losing time and you pushed yourself over the edge for one last spell. 

You didn’t remember making it back to your house, not a second of the walk back from the woods in your memory. You didn’t remember crawling up the steps of the patio. And you certainly didn’t remember passing out on the couch outside, your body falling into some makeshift comatose state to try and reserve what little energy you had left. 

Everything was bleary when you felt someone nudging your arm. 

You waited for it to stop but it never did. The nudges became more insistent, and then you felt someone nudging your leg too. You made a noise of discontentment but your eyes remained shut, which didn’t seem to please whatever was nudging you. 

You felt a little more awake when you heard a low whine. It sounded scared, like a plea for help rather than anything else. It sounded concerned. You tried your best to force your eyes open, to blink them open to see whatever was nudging you.

It took a few seconds for coloured splodges to become actual shapes but once your eyes focused on the two wolves in front of you, you couldn’t help but let a smile take over your face.

“My boys,” you murmured happily as you let out a deep sigh. “Just such caring puppies, hm?”

If it was possible for wolves to look comically confused, you would have thought you were seeing said expression right then.

You let out a small snort. “Of course I know it’s you.”

Both wolves stayed frozen in their spot as you reached out towards them, your fingers brushing against their fur before your hand fell limp at your side again. You blinked, a little slower and your eyes stayed closed for much longer intervals too. You could practically feel the concern radiating off them.

“M’fine,” you murmured as you nuzzled your face into the couch cushion with a sleepy smile. “Just a lil’ tired. Just…need a nap.”

Everything felt far too fuzzy and it didn’t take long before the exhaustion won over your body, pulling you back into a deep sleep before you could even realise the boys were shifting back into their human forms.

“Mon amour,” Charles whispered in a worried voice, kneeling beside the couch as he gently stroked his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “She’s out cold.”

“She needs to rest so she doesn’t burn herself out completely,” Max said with a frown on his face, shaking his head. “She was reckless. She could have hurt herself if she wasn’t careful.”

Charles hummed, nodding his head in agreement. “And she knows.”

“We were stupid for thinking we could hide it from her,” Max replied honestly before he grabbed a blanket, placing it over your body before you got too cold. “Let’s take her inside, help warm her up.”

Charles turned to the other boy, eyes wide and a little glossy. “Will she be okay?”

“We’ll take care of her,” Max reassured him, running a hand through the boy’s hair until he melted under the touch. “C’mon, I’ll make us some dinner for her to wake up to too.”

.

#lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen #formula one #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

[agustdiv1ne]

𖤐⋆°·.3:13 a.m. (m) — choi beomgyu

genre: smսt (mdni! ageless blogs dni!!), vampire boyfriend!beomgyu, fem!human!reader, mc gets her period, oral (f receiving), bloodplay (ig), i would say i'm sorry but i'm not <3

wc: 3.2k

beomgyu awakes to the smell of blood flooding his nostrils.

bleary eyes snap open as he shakes himself from his suspended state of consciousness, only for him to squint at the glaring crimson numbers of the alarm clock sitting upon the nightstand. it's terribly early. early enough that the stars still glitter against the sable background of the sky outside, early enough that this particular bedroom of his manor remains bathed in darkness. the dimness of the room, however, proves to be no issue for beomgyu's enhanced sight; he watches as your chest rises and falls in steady succession, your sleeping form blissfully unaware of his current predicament. 

oh god, it's you. the blood is yours. the sweet, saliva-inducing perfume of the crimson ichor overwhelms your typically clean, subtle scent; and yet according to his keen senses, the aroma is richer this time, somehow. more potent — he has not smelt anything as addicting in decades. it makes it all the easier for him to want to give into the primal urge to absolutely devour you, to feed and feed and fucking feed from your pretty little neck until he’s sated and you’re halfway brainless. with a jerky shake of his head, he pushes those instincts swirling in his chest into a dark corner of his mind. he’d never feed from you without your permission. he’s not like that; no, he’s not like his former coven that would hunt defenseless humans like you for sport, taking turns drinking from the victim’s body until their veins ran dry. no, he is far from being like them. he loves you, and he’d never do anything that could hurt you.

another wave of sweet iron wafts into his nose, and he exhales sharply, sitting up against the headboard. shit, he really should leave. he should run far away until he can no longer smell you, but he remains frozen in place. sitting there, he takes in how you begin to curl in on yourself, your brows furrowing as if you're in pain. the sight snaps him out of his bloodlust-induced daze, blinking hard when you groan and turn away from him on the bed, your arms wrapped around your midsection — cramps. you’re cramping.

blood, cramping…oh, beomgyu realizes, your period must have started.

the two of you are typically more careful than this, tracking your cycle and ensuring that he is far, far away when it inevitably does hit you. perhaps you’ve both become too complacent in your safety measures after being together so long. it’s easy to forget that he could pose a threat to you when he’s never given you a reason to fear him. he is considered a monster by many, yes, but not by you — and that’s all that really matters to him. besides, beomgyu likes to think he could control himself no matter what, especially when it comes to you and your safety; but when he looks down to his hands, he finds that the fabric of the comforter has been torn open due to his unrelenting grip. his eyes squeeze shut. he needs to leave. he needs to leave right now. you’re too tempting, too testing for his natural instincts. run. run far away before he loses control.

rolling over, your head lands on his lap, arms curling around his left leg as you nuzzle your nose into the smooth skin of his thigh. it’s stronger now, that overwhelming scent. he feels like there’s a frog stuck in his throat, ice in his veins — he needs to get out of here. right fucking now. gently, he tries to peel your body from his, but your arms have become vines, curled tightly around his leg, the side of his knee pressed into the valley between your breasts. they curl tighter as he tries to slip his hands beneath them, but he refuses to use the full extent of his strength on you. 

“baby,” he murmurs, nudging your shoulder only to receive no response. he grits his teeth together, he gulps, he tries again. “baby, wake up. you need to let go.”

you let out a sleepy mumble of his name, hooded eyes just beginning to focus as you look up at him. slowly, you take in the stiffness in his posture, his fleeting gaze illuminated by the moonlight. frowning, you set your chin on his thigh, eyes fluttering to a close once again. “what’s going on?”

“i need to leave, darling,” he grits out — he wants to bite you. he can’t bite you. he can’t. he fucking won’t. 

any fatigue remaining in your body drains from your system the moment he utters those words, worry flooding your veins in its wake. you sit up, arms curling around yourself as you lean closer to him, barely registering the pain in your abdomen. his eyes squeeze shut, dark brows furrowing as he shifts away. “why? did something happen? are you in danger—”

how are you so selfless? why, of all things, is the first thing that comes to your mind is his safety? you’re the one that may be in danger here, and he is the reason why you might be. 

you’re on his lap now, hands sliding over the planes of his face and down to cup his jaw. “gyu, c’mon. why do you need to leave?”

his eyes glint red before returning back to normal, razor-sharp fangs elongating before retracting again. his hands remain by his side while he shakes his head, gripping the sheets so cruelly that the threads are on the verge of tearing. now that your legs are parted, he can barely think straight. he needs to taste you, he has to—

“your period just started.”

his voice has lowered to a snarl, resounding from deep within his chest and straight into the pit that has opened up in your stomach. restraint pulls his words taut, hungry, feral — he needs something. he needs blood. you know he’s been depriving himself lately, though you’re unsure why, but now…now feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you with this divine timing. at the sound of another feral groan passing from his lips, you freeze. the fingers brushing over his jaw tense up, pressing into his skin ever so slightly, your voice whisper-quiet. breathy, shock coating each word, “oh. oh shit, um. i’m so sorry, i didn’t. i thought i had another week until—”

your attempt at climbing off of his lap proves to worsen the situation. in the blink of an eye, he’s grabbed ahold of your hips, halting your movements. crimson tinges the edges of his irises, fangs poking out from his upper lip as he pants. “don’t move. please don’t move. i don’t want—fuck, i don’t want to hurt you, baby, please.” 

you sit there for a moment, taking in his pained grimace. he’s fighting himself, he’s fighting every single primal instinct within him telling him to pounce, yet his terribly gentle fingers pressing into your hips indicates that he is still in full control. it’s okay, you think. you’d be okay if he fed.

fingers sliding down to his shoulders, you squeeze. “gyu, you need blood. i know you’re hungry, and it’s okay. i don’t mind.” 

in response, he shakes his head. “no, i can’t. i might hurt you, i can’t.”

your lips purse. what could you do? you’re stuck here, in the precarious position, with no clear way out. figure something out, come on. deep breath. in, out. in, out.

suddenly, an idea unearths itself within the walls of your mind, blooms like the moonflowers that so easily captures your attention when you go on walks with your lover. he doesn’t have to feed in the typical way. he could…oh, he could…

“you don’t have to feed from me, baby,” you coo, watching as his eyes flutter open and meet yours. vermillion now, not one speck of brown in sight. with a gentle, encouraging smile, a hand comes up to swipe through his hair. he shivers at the contact, but you can tell he’s still there. he’s still your gyu, hungry or not. in silence, you take the hand that still holds your left hip and guide it down to the apex of your thighs, allowing his fingers to brush over your panty-clad core. “just…taste me from here.”

he inhales sharply at the contact, at your words, wrenching his arm away. his other hand leaves you completely, palms dragging over his face as he attempts to compose himself. every fiber of his being is screaming at him to take the offer, just take the offer and eat you out — you want it, he really wants it… 

“i can’t,” he chokes out from behind his hands. with a sigh, you shift your face closer to his, grabbing his wrists to remove his hands. he lets you, he always lets you. his eyes remain closed this time, but you work with it; you know he can hear your heartbeat and the rustling of your shirt, smell your sweetness, feel the warmth radiating off of your face as you press a peck to his cheek.

“i trust you,” you whisper against the corner of his lips. he whispers out a weak refusal, and you shift against him, just a tiny motion of your hips that causes him to hiss. lower lip wobbling, his hands find your hips once more, eyes silently pleading with you to quit moving before he loses it. as you cup his cheeks, you tilt your head. “i know, baby. i know you don’t want to hurt me — and you won’t, i know you won’t. but don’t you want a taste? it smells good, doesn’t it? there’s nothing stopping you from taking what you need.”

his resolve crumbles before your very eyes as you continue to encourage him. he doesn’t even need to bite you, it’ll be okay, you’ll be safe. it’ll feel good for you too, rid you of your cramps in the process — doesn’t he want to help you feel better? you’ll both feel better if he does this. 

that’s enough for his composure to splinter, cracks forming and spreading like the roots of a tree until it shatters. there’s little holding him back as he flips you onto your back, him towering over you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. pausing, he stares down at you, voice barely louder than a whisper. “tell me to stop.” 

“i don’t want you to,” you murmur back. “take what you need.”

that’s all he needs to hear.

his fangs glint under the moonlight as he swoops in to capture your lips, aggressive, tongue slinking its way past your lips to curl with your own. the kiss itself doesn’t last long, not when one of his fangs slices into your lip, pulling a squeal from you. easily, he tongue locates the wound, laves over it as blood bubbles up to the surface of the flesh. he moans against your mouth at the taste. the sting subsides as the wound closes, and he pulls away. 

“need more,” beomgyu rasps. he’s wide-eyed, on the verge of absolute ruin, but you love seeing him like this. you crave to see him lose control. you are not the glass doll he’s made you out to be. you can take it, you can take him, and he needs to realize that sooner or later — preferably now. 

so you open your legs that have wrapped themselves around his hips, watch as his eyes roll back into his head, and say, “then have more.”

your panties are torn away from your center with ease, and while he can’t technically die, beomgyu thinks that this might just be the nail in his metaphorical coffin. with the barrier of clothes now eliminated, your scent is no longer obstructed, and you smell absolutely fucking divine. his head spins, nose filled with base notes of iron and sugar and a richness that he’s never experienced before. oh. oh fuck, he’s done for. 

sliding down your body until he’s settled between your legs, he holds you open and takes in how blood drips from your fluttering hole. you’re aroused, that much he can tell, and it excites that untamed side of him that he constantly tries to tuck away. it’s out in full force right now, and he doesn’t have it in him to hide it anymore, not when you smell like this, not when your blood is right there for the taking, especially not when you’re inviting him to taste with that sweet little voice of yours, breathy and needy and wanton, pleading for him to touch you. 

and fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

he doesn’t buy time with teasing your thighs like he usually does whenever he eats you out — no, he goes in straight for the kill, tongue licking a strip up your pussy, his groans reverberating against your clit as your saccharine blood hits his taste buds. he doesn’t pull away to comment, but you know just by the way his tongue slips into your hole that he likes what he finds. sometimes, you forget that your lover is no longer human — until these moments in which you are brutally reminded, his tongue extending far into your walls as he gives in to his most desires. you cry out as the muscle curls up against the spongy spot inside you, thighs closing around his head, but not for long; fingers curl under your thighs, spreading you open for him as he removes his tongue from your entrance, beginning to lick your folds, your inner thighs, cleaning up the blood that has found its way there. his tongue does not slowly savor your skin. rather, he laps at you like a starved man, pulling you closer and closer to his face. if he were human, you’d be worried if he could breathe. 

this must be heaven, he thinks, as he returns back to your folds, tongue swirling around your entrance, his nose bumping against your weeping pearl while his tongue explores your walls as deep as his fingers could go. the sensation is far different from fingers, however — hotter, wetter, you can feel his desperation with every lick and drag, the roughness stimulating every single nerve ending it touches. his hands hold your hips up, holding you as close as possible as he shoves his tongue deeper, the tip of his nose now grinding against your clit. 

“g-gyu! fuck, oh my god, gyuuu!” you repeat over and over again, feeling your high approach. the knot in your stomach pulls tighter, and you reach down to rub your clit with sloppy circles. beomgyu growls at this. he knows you’re close, he knows so well, and he wants to get you there. he needs you to experience the nirvana he has reached right now — he needs you right here with him. 

his tongue leaves your hole again, but the aching emptiness is quickly remedied with three fingers filling you to the brim. back arching, you plead for mercy, for him to let you cum, for anything. please, god, you’ll take anything. he finds your bud, suckling it between his lips, moans muffled against your core and the knot pulls tighter and tighter and the fire rushing through your veins grows white hot—

the knot snaps.

“fu-uckkk!” you scream, voice cracking as your vision spots white, pleasure rushing through every crevice of your body, thighs quaking and back arching and hands finding hair and yanking. your body feels like it’s floating, the waves of pure bliss unending as he continues his ministrations, removing his fingers so he can revel in the taste of your sweet, sweet blood that gushes from your hole. unable to come down, you remain in the throes of pleasure even as he flips the both of you over, your thighs now cushioning his head as you sit atop his face.

you gasp at the position, his eyes now glowing a bright scarlet in the darkness as he looks up at you. you’ve never seen such a shade on him, and arousal sparks in your stomach once again. “gyu, what—”

“more, need more,” he grunts out, now tracing your folds with his tongue. your gyu is still there, just…hungrier, frantic for more. 

if he could taste this for the rest of his life, he would never tire.

“gyu, i don’t— ohhh, shit!” your voice pitches up as he begins to lap at your core, little in his mind other than taking and taking until he’s sated and full. your clit aches with overstimulation, your walls quivering with each pass of his eager tongue as he holds you against him. soon enough, your torso collapses into the mattress, sheets curled between your fingers while you whimper, sweat beading across your heated skin. you can’t. you can’t cum again, and you tell him this again and again, yet he doesn’t heed your cries, building you up and making you cum on his tongue again and again until you can’t even think. your words are incoherent, garbled and tearful against the sheets, begging for him to let up.

“baby, baby i can’t,” you sob as you reach what you think is your fifth orgasm. “gyu!”

finally — fucking finally — he lets up, helps you ride out your high before slipping out from between your thighs. helping you onto your back, he holds your face between his palms, a small trace of blood from his fingers staining your cheek. your blood covers the majority of his lower face, smeared across his chin and lips and even a little on the tip of his nose. if you had enough energy to, you would laugh at the sight. 

“gonna go clean up real quick, okay? i’ll be right back,” he murmurs, squeezing your cheeks when you nod. he’s back within mere seconds, irises now back their normal umber and fangs retracted, no longer more animal than human, no traces of your blood on his face anymore.

“you okay?” he asks softly, smiling when you offer a lethargic nod. he climbs over you, sliding his lips over yours, wet, languid kisses exchanged as he slides his hands up and down your sides. “y’did so well for me, darling. thank you for trusting me.”

“told you it would be worth it,” you shoot back, tiredly giggling when his eyes narrow. 

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replies, eyes softening around the edges as he drinks you in, every curve and edge — perfect. you are perfect to him. hands slides up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “you wanna take a bath, love?”

leaning up, you give him a small peck. “that sounds wonderful.”

as beomgyu gathers you in his arm, commenting how he should just burn these sheets since they’re basically ruined, you find yourself thinking that there’s no one else that you would rather spend the rest of your life with — the rest of eternity with, if he’ll allow it. for now, however, you’ll let him tend to you in the bath, pressing butterfly kisses to your neck from behind as you bask in each other’s presence, the sky outside fading from a deep black into a muted azure. 

for now, this is enough.

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #agust.nsfw #💌 — gyu

[elliewritesfantasy]

Escape in the Night

A/N: I never thought I would be posting fanfiction on this account. However, Baldur’s Gate has captured my attention and my inspiration for months now. I don’t even know if anyone will see this, but I enjoyed writing it, and that’s all that matters.

Some protective dadstarion for you all. And strong boss Tav. Female Tav x Astarion.

Snow fell in great white clumps, blanketing the forest in an eerie silence. Cold crept up your fingers, reaching further with every moment that passed. You remained crouched under the boughs of an old maple tree, the bare branches leaning under the weight of the snowfall. You were burdened with your own weight; a greatsword hung between your shoulder blades, a relic of your paladin oath long forgotten among other worries, and a bundle against your chest. It was the one spot of true warmth on this winter night. Your baby. Astarion’s baby.

Armelle.

Boots shifted, crunching snow and dirt.

“Astarion?” His name was barely a puff of air from your mouth.

“I’m here.” He appeared next to you, and knelt. His silver hair shone even on this starless night, a mess of curls barely tamed. His eyes searched your face, his hands clenched around his longbow.

“Where are the vampires?” you asked.

“They’re close. I need to get you out of here.” Astarion placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to your feet. “I’ve lost a lot of my vampiric senses, but not all.”

“I wish they would see reason.”

“I know.”

You had found a wish scroll for him long ago, as part of your promise after the defeat of the netherbrain. The wish scroll brought him not only the cure for him vampirism, but the promise of a wide open future free of having to hide in the dark. It brought him hope and the freedom to finally say that he could marry you without feeling like he had trapped you in a vampire’s nest for life. And it had brought him his second-most precious gift of all - the wrapped child you clutched with the strength of a mother’s fierce love.

The vampires didn’t know Astarion was cured. They thought he had sired a dhampir, the offspring of a vampire and a powerful being with hungers rarely fully sated. A dhampir would be an asset to their coven, and they wasted no time in searching you out in the two weeks you have had her. You hadn’t meant to have your baby on the way to Waterdeep for a companions’ reunion. She was early. A surprise. But you were already so far from home, it wasn’t worth it to turn back.

Maybe that was a mistake.

“Y/N.” Astarion broke you from your thoughts. “Waterdeep isn’t far. If you run, you can make it while I hold them off.”

“I can’t leave you.” Your soul burned with your paladin’s oath, and your hands itched to strike the vampires down with all of your holy might.

“Just for a second. I’ll meet you there I promise,” Astarion said. His lips lifted in his slightly crooked smile. “If we can survive the Absolute and the attempted end of the world, we can survive this.”

You steeled your nerves, drinking in his familiar confident expression, though it wavered just a bit as the bundle on your chest let out a small, sleepy whine. “Alright”

“I can smell you. I can smell her.” The crooning voice of the vampire master Kazimir cut through the dampened night. Your heart quickened.

“Run.” Astarion notched an arrow, his breath coming in quick, clouded puffs. “Run!”

You didn’t hesitate. Your boots dug into the snow, into the frozen mud and you sprinted with all of the strength left in your body. The lights of Waterdeep twinkled on the horizon. It wasn’t much farther. You could make it.

“Ah, not so fast.”

You skidded to a stop, your throat lurching with fear. Kazimir stood before you, red eyes shining with glee.

“I can’t let you go, not with that creature you have.”

“She’s not a creature,” you growled. You drew your greatsword.

“Oh, but she is. And what a delicious creature she would be to have. She should be raised by a real vampire, not a pithy elf and a weak spawn.” He drew his own blade, a wicked sharp rapier. “Hand her to me peacefully, and I will let you return to your spawn without fuss.”

“No.” You swung your greatsword in an arc, poised to strike.

“A shame. Then I will have to take her from you.” Kazimir lunged forward, blade catching on the woolen edge of your wrap. You lurched back, narrowly escaping his rapier. You raised your sword, letting the anger in your stomach explode outward, lighting the weapon with a golden light. The vampire hissed and shrunk back instinctually at the light. With a cry, you leaped forward, bringing your sword down in a blazing arc. The vampire recovered just in time, spinning out of the way of your smite, his cloak billowing out behind him. He vanished among the trees, flitting between them like a ghost. You reeled, then recovered, and grounded yourself in the snow. You had to be ready.

Your eyes searched the darkness desperately, your eyes struggling to perceive anything beyond the falling snow.

“Behind you!” Astarion ran from the trees, an arrow whistling through the air. It found its mark in the shoulder of the master vampire. He screamed, turning from you to Astarion.

A blast of blue light blinded you all in an instant. A dimension door appeared just to your left with a familiar hand reaching through it.

“Gale!”

“Come with me,” Gale emerged wholly, his hair whipping in the wind of the portal. “Quickly!”

“But, Astarion-“ you looked back the silver elf now fighting Kazimir with his dagger, locked in an expert hand-to-hand battle.

“You have something more important to think about now, eh?” Gale gestured to you once again. You closed your eyes tight, sheathing your weapon. With one last glance at Astarion, you let Gale pull you through the gate and into the candlelit drawing room of his tower.

Shadowheart was the first to run to you. “Y/N, what happened?”

You couldn’t answer, your body wracked with violent shudders and shakes. Some of it was from the cold, some from the fear that made your very soul twist. Shadowheart wrapped you in a blanket. Through a tendril of consciousness, you managed to pull aside your wrap to check on your baby. You collapsed into a chair at the sight of her, eyes still closed, asleep. Safe.

“I’m going back for him.” Gale began furiously searching for a scroll through the precarious stacks upon his end tables.

Shadowheart laid a hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t risk it. What if the vampire comes through this time?”

Gale shook his head. “I can’t leave him to that master. I remember how strong Cazador was.”

“We have to trust him,” Shadowheart argued.

You could only sit, your arms holding your baby to you, her head cradled in your hands. A prayer of safety rang through your mind again and again. You had been a thirty minute run from Waterdeep before, and with the fight, maybe it would take him an hour.

“Please, I need you,” you whispered. Gale and Shadowheart retreated, letting you hold your child and warm by the fire while your brain was wracked with thoughts.

Please. Please.

I should have stayed.

Please.

The door to the drawing room burst open. You ran to it immediately, blood rushing in your ears.

“I’m here.”

“Astarion.”

He was here, his armor streaked bright red with blood. His hair was clumped with gore, and a cut on his cheek shone. He drank your face in hungrily, then reached for the woolen wrap, pushing it aside to reveal the perfect girl curled at your chest, her fine, newborn-soft silver hair glowing in the candlelight. Astarion placed a hand on her head, giving her a soft kiss right above her brow. He pressed his forehead against yours, tucking you both into his chest.

Even years after his cure, the feeling of his body warmth was novel. You soaked it in.

“He’s dead,” Astarion said. He twined a hand through your hair, pressing you into his shoulder. “He will never bother us again.”

“I can’t believe you killed him.” You drew back, studying his face.

Astarion laughed, his brows crinkling. “What, you doubted me? Hero of the world, slayer of the netherbrain?”

“You know it was my sword that landed the final strike,” you teased.

Armelle stirred, drawing Astarion’s attention. Oh, how much he had changed. From only being able to care about his own survival, to dedicating his whole existence to the survival of two others. It scared him more than the impending end of existence did.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” He traced Armelle’s rounded, flushed cheeks, taking in the hair that matched his own, the nose that matched yours. “I have everything that I need right here.”

#astarion #Astarion ancunin #Baldur’s gate #Baldur’s gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart #astarion x reader #Astarion x Tav #fanfic #fanfiction #dadstarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction

[badwitch-if]

OG DEMO + AU DEMO

**a note about the demo that won the vote**

Magic is all too real and witches reign supreme.

This is a story of excess & indulgence. Luxury & depravity. Lust & love. Horror & debauchery. 

But mostly it's a story of rediscovering your inner witch. 

Bad Witch is set in a matriarchal, gothic universe eerily similar to our own, where magic runs the world. And at its core, it is a love letter to the incredibly strong and vibrant friendships that we forge in our youth, and how they ultimately shape the people we become.

Witxhes dominate the upper echelons of society, and magic has seeped into every facet of day-to-day life, for witches and humans alike. Humans were relegated to a lower class of living and as witches tend to be quite opulent & over indulgent [and more often than not revelling in their own personal vices], the bougie Season of the Witch began. Witching Society flourished and quickly overtook over the world, trickling down to influence even those without magic.

SO WILL YOU BE A BAD WITCH, OR A GOOD WITCH?

You were born to one of the most ancient and thus, important witching families; the only child of a famous mother and an even more infamous grandmother. Your ancestors were among the very first witches to lead the revolution, desperate to create a world where their children would never again die by human hands.

Your childhood was rather lonely and spent under the tutelage of the worlds best witches and academics, whilst your mother did her best to ignore your existence whenever it didn’t directly benefit her. And so years later you would often joke that your life really began once you were accepted into Ariadne Academy, the premiere school for exceptionally gifted Witxhes.

You were placed in a coven with eight of your peers; girls and boys who would quickly become your family, until it was almost like you couldn’t remember a time before them. They shared your all-consuming hunger for magic and knowledge and experiences, traits that made your coven [nicknamed the Silverlakers] an unstoppable force within the Demonhall arena. Everything was going so perfectly until it suddenly burned down around you, leaving your coven a husk of its former self.

Aaand this is currently where the stories splinter off.

OG DEMO — In the OG demo, your coven is still somewhat intact. MC’s feelings towards them may or may not have changed, but on the whole, the Silverlakers are still functioning as the overachieving badasses they were at the academy. They’re still your best friends, your soulmates, your lovers. You love them and they most definitely love you — it’s just one big lovefest. 

As a master alchemist you tediously work through trials of your newest potion while still coasting off the success of your last serum, the wildly popular Moon Juice. The story focuses on the unnaturally strong bond that exists between the remaining Silverlakers, and the powerful magic you’ve wrought because of that. The incredibly deep but complicated friendships that you built are maintained to this day, and still just as co-dependent... or have they been making you feel stifled or claustrophobic? 

You can choose how your relationship with Ash progressed post-breakup. Was it messy and dramatic, or did you keep going back to them, again and again? Have you and Ori been just the bestest friends all this time, or have things gotten a bit awkward?

AU DEMO — In the AU demo, your coven was broken following the loss of one of your own. You all went your own ways and everything that you shared was left by the wayside. You’ve spent the better part of a decade running away from your Silver Lake family, the only real home you ever knew. But now, against all of your better judgements, your returning to York. Only for a few days, of course. A couple weeks, tops. 

You haven’t returned since you absconded after graduation, when you used a somewhat controversial but entirely contrived excuse for your disappearance. And as if The Fates themselves had seen to it, you once again find yourself thrown together with the other witches formerly known as Silverlakers. Their reactions to your return are not at all what you had expected, and you’re left second-guessing what actually happened all those years ago.

No matter how deep of a rift was left between your coven, Ori was the one who really refused to give up on you. In their very unique way, they practically strong-armed you into maintaining some kind of contact. Of all your former covenmates, you are hands down closest to Ori. Your breakup with Ash, no matter how it was done, was shocking and cut deep. You can choose whether to stand by your past actions or try to make amends with your first love. 

Both the OG & AU stories will feature opportunities to reconnect with: the former childhood friend turned academy rival; as well as the young professor from your university years. And despite their shorter and more mysterious descriptions, they are both main RO’s, along with Ash & Ori.

Will you try to repair the broken connections plaguing your coven, or forge a brand new path? Will you decide to confront the nightmares of your past face on in the Demonhall arena, or continue to ignore the literal demons that chase you?

TW/CW: violent & horrific imagery; explicit language; explicit sex scenes (with options to fade to black); misandry (within context of the story); mentions of blood/gore; child abuse (past tense against MC); very questionable magic usage; frequent scenes where NPCs are intoxicated, under the spell of drugs or magic, as well as just as many options for MC to imbibe; elder abuse; voluntary magical torture

~ Fully customisable character — you can currently play as a woman, man, or non-binary person; straight, gay, or bisexual. Customise your character's personality, style and how they reacted in major moments of their life leading up to present events,

~ Choose how to react to your current coven dynamics — fight to save your soulmates & strengthen your long-established bonds, or play around on greener pastures with other witches

~Experience the Witch's Journey through the Major Arcana – but will your MC make it to the final tarot reading?

~ Meet your familiar and decide which form it takes, with your familiar's animal impacting the story

~ Set up a cozy, witchy corner to call your own! A few options include a reclaimed lighthouse, luxurious penthouse in the sky, and a secluded cabin in the woods

~ Continue to cross sexual conquests off your list of Lovers to Bed, or get serious and pursue a more serious connection. There are currently 4.5 love interests [all gender variable] as well as an optional poly route. I'm also considering bringing back a character who was cut from the OG story... TBD!

~ Decide what happened to MC's relationship with Ash, in the years since graduation. Have they drifted apart while leading separate lives, or have they been on-and-off for the better part of a decade?

~ Get answers & closure by chasing down ghosts from your past. Give yourself over to the demons in your past, or fight to find a balance between your life and the monsters at the gate.

~ Explore the ever-changing hellscapes of Demonhall and confront your demons, or keep those traumatic memories in the past where they belong

~ But above all else, choose which path your character takes going forward. Chase your dreams and loves, or turn your back, light it up & watch the world burn around you.

During your time at Ariadne Academy, rumours swirled nonstop about your coven.

You got along too well.

You loved each other too hard.

Some people said you were a bunch of weirdos, while others whispered [a little too loudly] that all of your parents had conspired together, bribing the Witches Council to put you all together in one coven. But back then you couldn't give a shit about anyone or anything outside your Silver Lake home.

You found your first love within your coven, as well as seven other soulmates. And for a long time, that was all you needed.

☆ Elijah Akos {m}

☆ Suki Aoki {f}

♡ Aisling Casablanca {f} // Asher Casablanca {m}

♡ Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}

☆ Belladonna Humphrey {f}

☆ Endora Stills {f}

☆ Hazel Trout {f} — Deceased

☆ Bren Wylder {nb}

The grandiose and horrifying Demonhall is a favourite pastime for Witches young and old. Two opposing covens enter the arena (or as it's lovingly called by fans, the Demon Dome) and are sealed inside. Usually a timer is set for 6 hours, but some exhibition games run a 'last Witch standing' simulator, that can go on for days. 

At the core of every Demonhall arena lies it's true power, a demonstone. The crystalized heart of a demon powers and creates unique and dangerous environments for covens to progress through. Whether it's a futuristic, neon playground; the dilapidated ruins of Titans; or a much too lifelike version of the floor is lava, each unique setting has been randomly and lovingly crafted by the demonstone. 

Just as each demon is unique and come with their specific set of baggage challenges, so do their corresponding arenas. Some are more manipulative in luring you into their traps, while others don't waste time in throwing everything they've got at you.

The object of the game, quite simply, is to challenge & toss opposing witches out of the match, using whatever spells & curses, or hexes & charms you keep in your arsenal. All while avoiding the real terror of the Demonhall, the demon itself.

For over a decade, your life revolved around Demonhall. You were the Lead for your coven, meaning you often bore the brunt of whatever the demonstone was hurtling at you. Your Silver Lake coven dominated the amateur Demonhall circuit for the better part of a decade. You and your covemates were elevated to a level of celebrity that few others at Ariadne Academy could relate to, as you were splashed across dozens of magazine covers before you were 18.

You planned your life around your obsession and love of the game, and as your graduation approached, you fielded dozens of offers to play for top-tier professional teams. But then... the unexpected happened during a match and you lost a member of your coven.

☆The First Love☆ ...& Ash's playlist

Aisling Casablanca {f} // Asher Casablanca {m}, 31

Ash was your first love. You dated for several years during your time at Ariadne Academy. You grew up together in your Silver Lake cottage and soon after you met, you found it hard to deny your teenage crush. 

You bonded over a mutual (rather mad) obsession with Demonhall, and it didn't take long for that bond to translate onto the arena. The Silver Lake Demonhall coven dominated the competition, thanks in large part to the connection you shared with Ash.

You made plans together to follow your passions after graduation, and even courted the interest of several top-tier professional clubs. They wanted you both, and were willing to restructure their teams around you & Ash.

But life happened, and you surprised everyone when you suddenly broke things off with Ash and the Demonhall teams. Instead you followed a secondary love and traveled across the world in pursuit of cryptozoological mysteries. 

In the decade that you've been working out in the field, Ash has been named Demonhall MVP for three years in a row. Their legions of adoring fans have only multiplied. Is there room for you in their life nowadays, or is it truly too late?

☆The Best Friend☆ ...& Ori's playlist

Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}, 30

Ori has been your longest and closest friend. No matter what your relationship was like with the rest of the coven, you could always count on Ori having your back. And sometimes being a shoulder to cry on, during the rockier parts of your relationship with Ash. In a way, it's always felt like the three of you had your own kind of connection, but at times, that could put Ori in the middle of your shit with Ash.

Ori is a highly sought after Master Architect, one of only two in the country. They’re instrumental to the buildings integrity and the future success of it’s residences. Ori often spends weeks onsite, crafting intricate enchantments around the bones of the structure, ensuring not only structural safety but doing everything in their power to position them for prosperity.

There's never been any fronts or facades with Ori, just transparent (sometimes brutal) honesty. You've never had to pretend around them and you might even be your truest self when you're with them. And then the two of you would stay up all night, talking and watching movies, and polishing off copious amounts of alcohol. In fact, many of those nights ended up serving as inspiration for your new experimental potion, a cure-all hangover draught.

In the years since the academy, Ori has tracked you down across the globe too many times to count. It always seemed like they had some magical way of knowing when your life was going to shit and they'd spontaneously turn up with boxes of wine & chocolate, immediately taking over your kitchen to cook up something utterly delicious

☆The Lifelong Rival☆ ...& Poe's playlist

Viridian ‘Poe’ Black {f/m}, 31

Poe was one of your very first friends, long before the academy. Your mothers ran in the same high society circles and so you were often left to your own devices. For Poe that usually meant running off into the woods to scout for berries and beasts, or tirelessly watching or reading up on anything to do with Demonhall. And in fact decades later, you've still never met anyone as obsessed with the game as them. Even as a kid, Poe was haughty and overtly snobby; they always knew exactly what and who they liked, and rarely strayed outside the lines.

But for some reason or another, you were someone they happily tolerated and actually seemed to like. Much to their delight their Demonhall fanaticism eventually infected you as well, and you spent countless hours debating the various forms, methods, and positions of the beautiful but deadly game. The two of you would often daydream about your future life at Ariadne Academy, and their eyes lit up with unabashed glee when they spoke of how together, you would bring about a new era of Demonhall. But then came the week before coven placements. And even after all of their extensive testing, you & Poe weren't placed together.

After that Poe very rarely spoke to you and altogether stopped responding to your many messages over the years, and just like that, the delicate friendship you once shared was snuffed out. And while they'd always been sarcastic and biting, that had rarely been directed towards you. Until you were put in competition, both academically and in the Demonhall arena, and then you were introduced to an entirely different side of Poe. The one that knew your weaknesses and just when to exploit them, who seemed to take a particular happiness from your defeat.

☆The One That Got Away☆

Julia St. James {f} // Julian St. James {m}

Jules is the youngest of nine children and grew up in Bilbao, Spain. They were generally spoiled as a child, doted on by all of their siblings, aunts and uncles. They could never want for tutors or toys or courtiers, but it was all rather tiresome.

They would later travel the continent as a young apprentice of a new philosophy, but they were never alone; always in the company of their cousins, Vix and Maz. Jules developed a deep appreciation for the fine arts and very delicious things during this time away from home.

Jules has now perfected the balancing act, living in both worlds. They work tirelessly as a professor of Theological Witchcraft but lately they've been feeling the pull to leave the classroom and get back out into the world.

☆ ... ☆

#if #interactive fiction #hosted games #choicescript #interactive novel #witches #choice of games #magic #wip #if wip #badwitch #badwitch if #if: wip #if: fyi

[soulofapatrick]

Unbreakable Bond - Jasper Hale x female reader 

Summary: Someone reveals your relationship with Jasper to the Cullens

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: a little angsty I guess but mostly fluff

Y/N’s POV 

The Cullen household is bathed in a soft, warm light, casting a cozy ambiance over the living room. We’re all gathered here, the entire Cullen family, and our guests from the Denali Coven. I’m curled up on the couch, next to Seth Clearwater, our own unique mix of vampires and wolves living together in peace. Though I’m a vampire now, I’ll forever be grateful to the Cullens for making me part of their family. 

The Denali visitors also have a new member, Isla, who possesses a remarkable and unique ability - the power of relationship identification. If I were human my heart would be pounding and I’d be sweating buckets from anxiety as no-one knows about me and Jasper. I’ve been trying to mask my scent with Seth’s all evening and I know it’s been pissing Jasper off but he understands, knowing it might still be too soon to tell anyone our relationship. Alice left just over three months ago, wishing our relationship well and hugging us tightly before she slipped away. 

We’ve all been sitting together, enjoying the light conversations, when Isla suddenly goes silent, her brows furrowing as she looks around the room. Her eyes dart around the room, evaluating the various relationships within the house. I feel her gaze on me, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I hope she doesn’t discover our secret. 

As the night wears on, the tension within me mounts. Isla’s sharp gaze flits between me and the members of both our covens, and her curiosity seems to be growing. I can’t help but fidget on the couch next to Seth. He gives me a knowing look, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s one of the few I’ve trusted with mine and Jasper’s secret. Seth’s hand settles on my knee, thumb rubbing soothingly and I can feel Jasper bristle from across the room where he’s sulking, leaning against the wall. 

Finally, a calming silence falls over the room, conversations slowing to a quietness that is only broken by the record playing in the background. Esme, Rosalie and Tanya are looking at Isla with curiosity and I’m shifting in my seat again, my legs still over Seth’s lap and his fingers drumming a comforting rhythm on my calves. 

Isla's penetrating gaze is unwavering, and I can sense her curiosity burning like a flame in her dark, enigmatic eyes. Her words break the silence, each syllable imbued with a contemplative and almost otherworldly quality. "There's a bond here," she speaks softly, her voice tinged with reverence, "A romantic bond that's stronger than anything I've ever sensed before." Her statement lingers in the air, and I can almost hear the collective intake of breath as everyone's eyes dart around the room, desperately searching for clues.

My heart should be pounding in my chest as her gaze momentary flits to Jasper, who shifts his position from where he leans against the wall. I can feel the weight of the room’s expectations, the unspoken questions about who this powerful romantic bond might involve. My eyes dart from Jasper to Seth again, the latter trying to provide me with comfort without drawing unnecessary attention. 

Then, an electrifying moment unfolds. Isla’s voice, trembling with excitement, pierces the stillness as she cries out, “It’s you!” The words seem to hand in the air, leaving everyone shocked and bewildered. After all, everyone knows Jasper’s mate - Alice - left him months ago, a revelation that had sent ripples of sadness through the family and making me feel even guiltier than ever before. 

But Isla seems to pay no heed to the apparent facts, as her eyes dart frantically around the room, unwilling to let go of her conviction. Then, with sudden clarity, her intense scrutiny lands on me and Seth, the two of us glancing at each other and I’m swallowing hard, somewhat panicked as Isla whispers somewhat uncertainly, “You?”

Her words feel like an electric shock, coursing through the room. I feel like the ground beneath me has crumbled, and the eyes of the Cullen family, the Denali visitors, and Seth all turn towards me, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion. I can't bear the weight of their scrutiny, the disbelief in their eyes. 

In that overwhelming moment, I’m gripped by an uncontrollable surge of emotions. I jump up from the couch and, without a second thought, flee from the room. My footsteps are swift and soundless as I rush outside to the porch, needing the cool night air to soothe myself. 

Out on the porch, I grip the railing tightly, my body trembling with emotions. My chest aches, but no tears come; vampires can’t cry. It’s a though my body is trying to release something that’s forever been denied to me. The weight of the revelation, the fear of judgement and the sudden exposure of my hidden relationship with Jasper has left me in a state of turmoil. I close my eyes, trying to steady my racing thoughts and find solace in the tranquility of the night. 

With my eyes closed, I focus on the cool, night breeze, hoping its gentle touch will provide some relief. But its not the wind that soothes me. It’s the warmth and presences of someone wrapping their arms around my waist from behind. A familiar scent fills my senses, and I shudder as soft, cool lips press against my shoulder. 

Jasper. He’s here, holding me, his presence a comforting balm for my turmoil. His empathetic powers come into play, and a calm washes over me, as if he’s channeling his own serenity into my very being. In that moment, the world around me fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of us, finding solace and strength in each other’s embraces. 

Slowly, he untangles himself from me, but his hands remain gentle as he turns me to face him. He cups my face in his cool, comforting hands, his golden eyes filled with love and understanding. He begins to speak softly, “You know how much I love you, right? And I want you to know that Alice left letters for everyone when she saw this day coming.” 

His words are a balm to my anxious heart, reaffirming the depth of his love and commitment to our relationship. I can’t help but smile though my lingering uncertainty, touched by his unwavering affection. But before I can fully process the weight of his words, he moves closer to me, my hips pressing against the porch railings, and his strong, sturdy body now surrounds me. The space between us vanishes, and the electrifying tension in the air seems to grow hotter. 

Jasper’s lips find mine with an urgency I haven’t felt since the first time we kissed when he opened his emotions to me. Neither of us realising the first time that his emotional manipulation powers can go both ways like Bella’s where he can let me feel how he’s feeling. It’s almost euphoric, being able to know exactly how he feels with no barriers. 

The kiss is a heady fusion of sensations. His lips are velvety and cool against mine, an exquisite contrast to the heat that radiates between us. I can taste a hint of his unique, familiar flavour, an  alluring combination of the forest after a summer rain, the subtle sweetness of his breath, and the enticing essence of Jasper himself. 

His emotions are a revelation, an unfiltered connection to the depth of his desire and longing. I feel the surge of his love, a powerful current that engulfs me, overwhelming but incredibly tender. There’s a are, unbridled passion in his kiss, a manifestation of the profound emotions he feels for me. It’s almost euphoric, this unadulterated exchange of feelings, being able to know exactly how he feels with no barriers, just the pure, unfiltered connection of our love. 

The kiss itself is a passionate dance, an exploration of each other’s souls through the meeting of our lips. It’s an affirmation of the love that binds us, acknowledging the intensity of our connection and a promise of the forever we’ll share together. 

“Come back inside with me," Jasper murmurs against my lips, breaking the kiss but not the closeness between us. His words are filled with warmth and reassurance, and I can feel the sincerity in his embrace.

"They hate me," I confess, my voice a soft whisper as I rest my forehead on his shoulder.

Jasper gently lifts my chin, his golden eyes meeting mine with unwavering love. "No one hates you," he says, his voice tender and filled with conviction. "They may have been surprised, but we'll face this together. You'll see, they'll understand.”

He places a sweet, lingering kiss on my forehead before entwining his fingers with mine and gently coaxing me back inside. His presence is a source of strength, and with him by my side, I find the courage to face whatever challenges lie ahead

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

Twilight Masterlist

#jasper hale #jasper cullen #jasper hale one shot #jasper cullen x reader #jasper cullen x you #jasper cullen x y/n #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x you #jasper hale x y/n #jasper cullen fluff #jasper cullen angst #jasper cullen smut #jasper hale angst #jasper hale smut #jasper hale fluff #jasper hale x female reader #jasper cullen x female reader #twilight #jackson rathbone #twilight x reader #twilight x female reader #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight angst #twilight smut #twilight fluff #twilight one shots

[nightlarkcoven]

Nightlark Coven Introduction Post!

We are a new online coven that's been built off of a former coven by the High Priestess Sylvia. Our coven tumblr is managed by Wilhelmina, a council member. This is a sideblog managed from @grimalkinirl (Wilhelmina.) Now that that all is out of the way, let's get into what Nightlark is all about.

Only those between 18 and 29 may apply. You must have a minimum six months of practicing, and one year of studying. You must either practice the left-hand path or be comfortable with those that do.

On top of this, we are very much a real, serious coven. Do not apply thinking we role-play or anything like that. We expect our members to commit to this coven just as you would an in-person coven or another type of in-person group.

Now that you've read all of this, please consider joining our application discord server! There you will find more in-depth rules and requirements as well as the application form. Good luck and best wishes!

#witchblr #left hand path #witchcraft #coven #tarot #demonolatry #spirituality #spirit work #blood magic #baneful magic #baneful witch

[gravid-transluna]

The Solitary Woods

words: 993

content: birth, fpreg

The spell was potent and irreversible. August knew this for certain; she had tried every counter-charm, backlog hex, nullification ingredient she could uncover, attempting to undo what she’d done. No, there was only one way to reverse an accidental pregnancy spell, and it required nine months of waiting and a dark, solitary forest where no one would hear your screams. 

August stood over a pile of black leaves, thighs spread. She pressed her hands into the small of her back, aching and impatient. She wore only a string-drawn leather tunic and a long ankle skirt. Her bare abdomen was a massive pale moon, distended navel an angry crater in the middle, blemishing the smooth, taut surface. The belly was alive, violently rippling, loaded with babies, and August moved her hands from her back to her swollen front, cradling. She gazed at the marvelous arching mound with a kind of horror and stupefaction. She could feel the positioning of the first baby, deep in her hips, splitting with pressure and fullness and weight. Runes of black ink wrapped its circumference, drawn in hopes that they would incite labor.

“Gods,” August sighed. “I need to get these out of me.”

She suffered the first slow contractions, pacing the clearing in the woods as her low hanging moon-belly seized and constricted, visibly shrinking around her crowded womb. Her pacing grew slower, heavier, and soon she could barely walk, cupping her belly as it swung, stance bowlegged, gait dragging.

She felt obscene, horrifically swollen and stretched out of proportion, belly like a foreign object on her middle. Divine femininity—bah. She had rejected all that when she’d joined the coven. Now though. Now, she looked like a breeding cow.

Another contraction. The pressure reached a peak. She pulled her head back and pressed her lips together, positioned above the patch of black leaves.

Suddenly she opened her mouth and dropped into a squat, bottom thrust out. “Ohhhh—OH.”

Fluid burst from between her legs and puddled the leaves beneath her. She looked down in shock.

“Gods, this is it. O-o-okay, this is it, okay.”

A heat flash left her sweating, and she suddenly felt the need to remove her clothing. Her body was telling her it was time for her baby to come out, and as the next contraction ripped through her belly it was accompanied this time by a strong urge to push, like nothing she’d ever felt before.

She hurriedly pulled up her skirt, exposing her auburn bush, squatted, and pushed. The baby moved down quickly, thrust between her hips by her internal muscles.

“Oh gods,” she bellowed, bending her knees and pushing again. Her belly continued to contract, forcing her into a long push that felt endless. Her face reddened, teeth gritted. Barely any air escaped. She was pushing too hard.

Thrall to her body, the need to give birth was like a spell cast over her. She let her knees sink to the forest floor, unrelenting in her groaning birthing efforts. Instinctively, she sensed that hands and knees would allow for a more continuous pushing effort. All she wanted to do was push. No, not a want. A need. She needed to push.

She thrust her hips in the air, back bowed with the weight of her curving belly. It felt as though an entire melon was being forced through her birth canal and into her bottom. The pressure was even more intense than before, an immense weight now filling her entire lower half, soon to emerge. She moved her hips in smooth circles, trying to relieve the pressure between them. Her belly scraped the forest floor.

“C’mooonn.” Her voice was tight and deep with pushing.

The contraction ended, leaving her panting on all fours, animalistic. She sweated bullets.

Reaching behind her, she groped behind the hair between her legs for a head, and only felt her swollen, aching pussy. She growled in frustration, and tried pushing again, but without a contraction it was like forcing a stone through her.

So big, she thought. Too big. She had never wanted to get pregnant, much less give birth. Now she had to push out a whole load of babies, all because they were in her body, uterus swelling relentlessly against her own will.

Her belly went hard again. She immediately dove into a long push, and felt the baby slide thoroughly into her birth canal. She clutched her compressed belly, not even recognizing the sounds she was making anymore, and soon her skirt began to tent outwards.

“Yessss. Get OUT of me—!”

She cupped her bulging pussy under her skirt. It was a horror, feeling her lips beginning to part, so misshapen with the massive head. Fluids ran between her fingers. She howled as the head reached a full crown, lips stretched in a tight circle. She didn’t want to push any more. A hot iron burned her delicate lips. She tried to breathe, but her body wanted this baby out, now. She was enveloped in another push. Her lips widened impossibly, close to snapping, the forehead, ears, nose slipping under her thin flesh, and she could feel everything, unable to stop pushing.

“Ugh!” The head burst free in a spray of fluids. 

The shoulders pushed, straining at her inner walls, and she painstakingly climbed to her feet. The dripping head brushed between her thighs, her pussy full with the baby, dangling out of her now. She ripped down her skirt and pushed again.

“GET OUUUUTTT!!” she screamed.

The shoulders popped through her pussy and more fluids gushed from her as the baby slipped into her waiting hands. She gasped, falling to her knees. It stirred something inside her, something she dreaded could be motherhood.

The woods were still echoing with her screams and the squalling of her baby when her belly grew stony again.

“Oh…” August said, remembering the two other babies now sliding into position, body readying her for birth again. “Hecate, help me.”

#fpreg #giving birth #labor kink #birth kink #pregnant kink

[s-4pphics]

moth. (e.w.)

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔

SYNOPSIS: knights of the devil, you all are to be conquered. 

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: vampire!ellie, vampirekiller!oc, a lot to come FUCK, violence… so blood(drinking), death, murder, gore, suicide, religion briefly, cult-ish bindings, ellie's coven is so cunt, mentions of witchcraft, future tags: hypnosis, abducting, crazy smut

teaser.

1927

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

The cycle formed over the last decade has revolutionized you. It is all you know; the only remainder of solace you have in this dastard domain. The older you've grown, the more burials you attend. For strangers, for comrades. For children who have been brutalized and left to rot like swine. All enacted by the Devils that lurk in darkness. Radicalization overcame your senses; first writhed beneath your bones at the age of thirteen when intent to kill the Earth’s torturers flourished within you. Welcomed your stout standing with an offered, sharply angled wood. You have read. You have fought. You have been scarred and beaten bloody by the Overseers; suffered numerous nights of unrest due to the wails of your comrades under their scrutiny. 

Another burial, another Overseer. A prime Hunter that controls your underground dominion, trapped trenches below civilization that beam with only candlelight and the creeping rays of the flaming sun.

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

The lines you march alongside your comrades are congruous; heads covered with black hoods, dozens of silver-soled heels echoing against the tunnel walls. Not one Hunter out of place. Gruesome symmetry. The narrow halls of the tunnel spread into a perfect sphere near its end. Hunters due their promotion disperse along the widening space, encircling the flaming Crest in the center of the chamber. Both rows of teeth are inseparable; a dull ache in your jaw. 

Your heartbeat is reminiscent of drums. Each step is calculated. A second of delay, and… your brain cannot fathom the consequences. 

Rows of comrades enclose and tighten, standing strong before the risen floors where the Overseers inspect their battalion, hoods removed and insignia burning through their black capes. You sneak glances at them despite the rules of a downcast gaze in their presence; no longer than a second. Their years of battle have overtaken their appearance; gray drapes of wool that cascade their shoulders, creases by the eyes and mouth, hands that tremor. 

“Rise.” 

Necks crane until straightened. Palms raise for the Uncovering, hoods pushed until they lay flat at the peak of spines. The first time your heads have seen the unnatural light of the underground. Your Overseer from your recruitment has been replaced with anew; woman, tall and eyes as kind as a doe, but just as ruthless, just as conniving as he. Her lips spread around her white teeth, somehow more venomous than the ghouls that taunt the lands. 

“Welcome to the commencement of our Prodigies.” 

Despite you being only three rows from the raised platform, the Overseer sounds miles away. The rushing in your ears; the thumping in your chest is intruding. 

“You are all here to be recognized for your efforts. You should be proud of choosing the path of righteousness. Your dedication does not go unnoticed, and today marks the finality of your attainment.” 

“We bless you all with our thanks. For this night embarks society’s next generation of Hunters. You have all accepted your duty as a protector. A leader. A virtuous soldier for our Lord.” 

“The battle against Demons will be unkind… Many will be lost, but after years of sacrifice, use this night as a celebration of your bravery…” 

Silence. Then a seized breath. Faulting from an Overseer is unforeseen. 

“It may be your last chance to witness a night of peace… Of unity.” 

Her sudden somber timbre jostles your comrades, backs stiffened under their cloaks. Empathy: considered a display of weakness from your leaders. 

The winds of the tunnel shifted, aimed to suffocate. 

“Live as kings for this last night. Eat, drink… dance if you must. Because come dawn, you will abandon comfort, and return to the higher lands where anguish awaits.” 

One overseer, the man closest to the orator, extends a black, velvet pillow to her. A silver chain dangles from her wrinkled hands; a Hunters pendant, bordering a lit flame. 

“As the world’s Hunters, you will be honored with our sanctuary’s Crest. This will be your protection against the Lustful… They have demonstrated a great deal of power as they develop… Their spread is alarming… To even us.” 

“Do not fall victim to their allure. Their only desire is our demise. Deceit is their only weapon… But it will never compare to the light in your hearts.” 

Rumors have spread through the training grounds; ones of Hunters, Overseers, being blinded by their darkest desires. Controlled by the Devil’s knights to turn against each other. Entranced by pleasure, by riches. By immortality. Their desperation of becoming the rulers of society, tyrants of the land, past the seas… Brought them to their end. Many believed they were created to birth disarray — distrust between comrades. You, still, are not sure what to believe. 

“… All of your souls are blessed… Even in death.” 

Your palm rests over your pounding heart in oath recitation, promising to die for the cause of freedom. For humanity. The remainder of the ceremony hazes as cloaked patrons emerge from the depths of the cave as the Overseers disperse, dressing prideful Hunters with their pendants. They hang perfectly at the center of the sternum, the flames roaring the closer it lays to the heart. 

Your eyes do not wither from the ground, even with the silver shoes before you that penetrate the dirt. An Overseer is not often chosen to promote a Hunter, but she — the orator — blesses you. The heft of your pendant weighs heavy on your shoulders. You sigh a breath of relief at the glow behind metal. 

“Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.” You say, dismissing your shock with a hand on your chest.

“Guarded, you are…” 

Her declaration is barely a whisper. She pauses, trembling pupils entangled with the glow of your chain, hypnotized by its glimmer. 

“Child.” 

You remain indifferent at her condemnation, against the gulp from your throat. She inspects your stance with the strength of a stalking lion before vanishing, cape gusting up dryness from below. 

“Someone’s special.” 

A hushed snark airs from behind you. Made to be a laughingstock for your comrades once again. But you are not 13. All naivety has been torn from your consciousness, and your vacancies are filled with revenge. 

The cave, for the first time since your recruitment, is undisciplined. Bass from the celebratory drums. Laughter… Laughter from your comrades, Overseers, patrons you recall from passing as they cheers with the finest wine. Intimidation and constraint are no longer. And still, you take no part in true fellowship. Jollity is forbidden. Leisure is forbidden. Benevolence is forbidden. You, and others amongst —children— were trained to hunt. To slain those who left the world in shatters. A morphed weapon of justice.

A laid hand on your shoulder makes you jolt, left frozen when you're met with the orator from the commencement. 

Come, she whispers, and you follow her path through the tunnels of the cave. She retrieves a lantern from the cavity floors and leads you to its corners, deep and untouched. Never once have you seen an Overseer smile, but she is. A pitiful one. 

“Why do you worry, Child?” 

“I do not worry,” You bite more than needed, “And I am not a child.” 

She takes no offense, “Pardon me. Why do you worry, Hunter?” Her tone is mocking, and your blood churns. 

One slip of tongue could earn a blade in your chest. You self-soothe with the foggy air expanding in your lungs. Your agitation calms, only briefly. 

“I do not worry,” Easier on the ears, “I am believed to be more than prepared—“

“There is no preparation against the Devils.” The hiss of a viper, her mouth turned down in dissatisfaction of your attitude. Your brows pinch. 

“Why have you brought me here?” 

Her chest rises and falls and her hands interlock. 

“Do you know your history, Hunter?” 

“It is all I’ve ever known, Master.” You retort with similar irreverence.

“Not the history of the Devils, you imbecile. You. Do you know of your lineage?” 

Your head rattles, “Surely not… A-All outside knowledge of history is forbidden. That is all we’ve ever been taught—“

“Shame on your mother for leaving you useless.” 

Her slander resonates through the tunnel and your conscience dissolves. The blade you always wield in your sheath presses against the throat of your superior, indented around the aged skin.

“I did not follow you to be defamed,” You rebuke with bared teeth, “Do not speak of my mother.” 

“What spirit…” Others would not blink twice at the mention of their family, dead or alive. 

“The Devils starve, Child.” She whispers. 

“What.” 

“They starve… Desperation grows within them as they migrate. They kill anything they can.” Distress grows in her face as she blathers. “Black magic. I have seen its bounds before my eyes. They have tormented and feasted on the blood of your ancestors! The controller of all Devils… She waits to enslave the last of your name—“

“I HAVE NO NAME!” 

Why must she lie? Why are you only hearing of this now? She lies. A shout that cracks through the underground. 

“Your lineage is most susceptible to the curse! You…” 

Tears hang from your lashes before splintering your cheeks. Panic-struck heaves hit your leader’s, her flyways brushing against her nose.

“They’ll torture you, Child.”

Sympathy. Survival. There is no difference. 

“What does it matter?” You whisper painfully, and your blade drops to your side, weeps unmasked. “So many have died before me. I-I do—“

“Your mother was one of us.”

Her wails are quiet and urgent.

“Ask… pray for her guidance.” 

“Mas—“

The Overseer advantages the weakness of your wrist; snags your blade from between your fingertips and glides the edge across her jugular, maroon coating her hands as she chokes on her own blood, her eyes glazing as she slides down the wall. You holler, knees weakening when her gargling form collapses into your arms. Life drains from her eyes with every exclamation you throw to the Heavens. You shout for help, but the depths are too narrow. 

No one comes. 

-

-

-

You, by the grace of your Lord, somehow managed to flee the concaves without being spotted by your commune, cloak submerged in blood that is masked by its darkness. Anxiety forged in the pit of your stomach; unable to return to your base for the last peaceful rest, you ran. You cowered. Just when you believed it was out of your nature. 

An Overseer committed suicide, and you were the only witness. 

You went to your chambers after the accident—warning? — stuffed what you could into your satchel, and escaped the iron gates of your former home. Scaled them like a rabid hyena until your bandaged soles combined with tall greenery. The scene of never-ending land doesn’t ease your nerves, but you sprint until your lungs burn and your legs give out. 

Your path is blind, but your end is near. 

All fingers point at you. 

The greatest form of betrayal. 

The lifeblood of the wealthy always curdles: from concealed shame. From ego. From both; It always leaves a sour film over her tongue. Despairing times. The rosewood floors are bathed in red as the last breaths of her victim shake through her bedroom. A beautiful one, she was; dressed in skirts and stockings that ripped at the lightest touch. 

Blood drips down from Ellie’s mouth to the collar of her unbuttoned shirt, stains seeping into the crew of her undershirt. Barely any effort was needed to lure them all in. Desperation makes obscenity much sweeter. 

A knock erupts from the other side of her door before a sugary utterance echoes, “May I come in?” 

Ellie scoffs at the pester. 

“You may…” She replies.

The door opens, and she’s met with soft eyes twinkling with brown and burgundy. 

Her brow arches, “Not.” She concludes.

The raven-haired girl squints playfully and shuts the door behind her, “Hush, now,” Her strides are strong and assertive, puddles of red soaking the bottom of her heels. 

“Quite the mess,” she mutters at the scene with an upturned nose, “It smells.” 

“Who am I to complain?” 

“The only one that complains,” Her soft hands land on Ellie’s shoulders, and she sighs, taking in the worn appearance of her partner: under eyes darkened and sunk in, dry lips, voice hoarse.

“I bare news.” Dina whispers. 

Ellie curls a tweel of black hair around her finger, “Hm?” 

Dina leans in close, arms locking around the back of her lover’s neck, lips brushing Ellie’s ear. 

“Our little flower is on the loose.” 

Ellie’s body locks, and pressure grows in her fangs. “Liar.” She gasps.

“Nuh uh,” A kiss is planted to the corner of her stained mouth, “Word is she’s fled the sanctuary. Searches are apparently ongoing.” 

“Where.” Ellie presses. 

“Not sure… I came to ask if we should plan for her… arrival while the ladies are away.” Dina suggests with a conniving smirk. 

Ellie’s lips curl dangerously around her sharp teeth, a blinding white. She lifts her darling off the ground, spinning her in celebration as she squeals, droplets of evidence seeping deeper into the floorboards. 

“Absolutely.” 

wittle taglist :3 HIII DEAR: @elliewilliamsblunt

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #vampire!ellie #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪ #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams angst

[junkdrawerfics]

Broken Pieces Put Back Together

Jasper Whitlock X Reader

Summary: You get turned by Maria a short time after Jasper. Life in the coven is not what you expect though, as Maria quickly realizes you have a useful ability and you end up outliving the other newborns. At least you have Jasper, though. Until you don't.

Word Count: 3361

Warning: Depression, a short bit of suicidal thoughts, canonical violence. It gets rough in the middle y'all.

Lots of hurt but it has a happy ending, I promise.

---

You and Jasper were close to fast friends when you were forced to join Maria’s army. At first, you were terrified of the blond and his scar-ridden skin. Word reached you quickly of all he’d done, the countless lives he’d taken. How could you not be scared?

But then one night you found him on his own, standing outside the abandoned barn you called home, looking up at the stars with such a broken expression. That night, something drew you to his side. The urge to comfort, the need to ease his pain, was the first feeling to overcome the overwhelming sense of bloodlust constantly burning in your throat.

Not a single word was spoken that night. You didn’t know what to say, not to this man who had lived through so much more than you, and he didn’t offer anything in return. You both just stood there, still as statues, looking up at the stars.

That night you learned that Jasper Whitlock is not all that he appears to be.

It’s also the night Maria learned of your ability, and decided you might be of more value than she originally thought. You hadn’t even realized you were doing anything. In that moment, all you wanted was to keep him safe, hide him for just a little bit so he could breathe. And apparently you had done just that. You both disappeared, from everyone’s perception at least.

And so you lived. Outlived.

Your new reality was much crueler than you thought it could be. You realized that when your friend, a young girl changed the day after you, was deemed no longer useful.

That night, Jasper was the one who came to you.

“(Y/n).”

You don’t look away from the sky, the bleeding colors of the sunset dull in comparison to the flashing colors of fire behind your eyes. You can smell the smoke clinging to his clothes as he gets closer. It burns your nose, makes your chest ache as a fresh wave of pain sweeps through you.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” You ask quietly, voice like a broken set of bells.

Jasper sets his jaw, looking down at his hands. He nods slowly, an unfamiliar lump forming in his throat. He’s never felt guilty for following orders, he always thought it was for the best, that Maria knew better than the rest of them.

But then you look at him, your eyes swimming with tragedy, and it makes something inside of him ache. There’s no anger, no hatred, like he expected, just an ocean of grief.

 It clogs your throat, burns behind your eyes, leaves you shaking. You rest on the edge of tears, suffocating in that horrible, sinking feeling, but always unable to cry. And you hate it. You hate it. You hate it. It’s like walking a tightrope, always off balance, yet never falling.

But you shatter when a hand rests gently on your shoulder.

A dry, ugly sob breaks past your lips as you turn into Jasper’s body. He curls his arms around you wordlessly, wishing he could hold all your pieces together. And even though his hands are the ones that did it, even though you know he’ll have to do it again and again and again, you can’t help but soak up every ounce of comfort from his rare embrace.

Slowly the sadness lifts, until it's bearable, not crushing you but not completely gone. His ability. Usually you’d scold him, tell him your emotions are yours for a reason, but right now all you can do is hold onto him tighter.

He’s all you have left, now.

Something changed after that night. You and Jasper got even closer. He protected you and was your rock when Maria turned your ability into a weapon. And on nights when she would go hunting alone, the two of you would perch on the roof of the barn and just look at the stars, talking about anything and everything. 

You loved hearing stories of his human life. He would tell you about his time in the army, about the pressure he faced to join when he got old enough. His family didn’t have much, especially after the war started. You could tell he loved them, just by the soft smile he would get any time he talked about them.

You would take turns sharing stories. You told him about your siblings and their mischievous games. You were the oldest, so it often rested on you to watch over them, which usually ended with you covering up their shenanigans. You loved it though, taking care of them, teaching them.

That urge was still somewhere deep inside you, a motherly instinct you can’t quite shake. It made it all the more difficult to distance yourself from the fresh newborns in the coven. Before, you would take them in, calm them down, make sure they had something to drink to ease the pain of their thirst.

You couldn’t experience that again, though. That loss. So you kept your distance, spending most of your time with Jasper anyways. The man’s threatening aura kept most of them away. 

Except one. 

A newborn, a little too confident, a little too high on his new strength, decided he just couldn’t leave you alone. For the most part, you ignored him. In your human life, you dealt with more than enough  unwanted attention, so you thought you were used to it. He was as stubborn as he was arrogant though.

Until Jasper nearly killed him for making a move on you (a little too aggressively).

Luckily Maria wasn’t there for that.

“Are you alright?” Jasper ushers you outside, red eyes frantically scanning over you, as if you could be battered and bruised. 

“I’m fine, Jas,” you breathe, brushing the dust from your pants, “I’m more worried about that guy you just ripped the arm off of.”

“I should’ve killed him for touchin’ you.”

You glance at him, amusement quickly replacing the mild panic that filled you the moment that man laid his hands on you, “You know you wouldn’t. Maria would get angry if you did that.”

Jasper’s lips draw into a thin line. It shouldn’t matter. You’re the only one who treats him like he’s still human, his only friend. He wants to say that he will always protect you, even if he has to fight Maria herself. But the words don’t come. Deep down, a part of him knows they aren’t true, and that leaves behind a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Don’t look like that.” He blinks when you touch his cheek, your fingers soft and light, unlike Maria’s. You smile at him, just as gently, voice resigned, “I know how you think, Jasper Hale. You’re a loyal man, and that’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

As you say it, a sadness wraps around you, one that Jasper doesn’t understand. It doesn’t match your smile, or the soft creasing of your eyes as you look up at him. Why does it make you so sad?

You don’t let the feeling linger though, reigning it in the moment you notice the slight furrow of his brow he sometimes gets when he is trying to focus on your emotions. You don’t need him figuring out why. Why his loyalty to Maria makes your chest ache so painfully.

Falling in love with Jasper Hale was as easy as breathing, which says something considering you don’t even need to. Behind the tough, military face of his, was a man who was charismatic and gentle, who liked to laugh and remembered the name of every horse he’d ever ridden. 

He was loyal to a fault.

That’s why he could not see Maria’s true nature for the longest time. It became clear to you rather quickly once you got closer with Jasper. Close enough that she took notice. Close enough that she decided to do something about it.

It started with small things.

Whenever you would go to talk to Jasper, she would call him over for something unimportant.

She started sending you on little tasks, just to keep you out of the barn.

Even on the days she would go hunting, the days you looked forward to most because you and Jasper could be completely alone, she started taking Jasper with her.

And each time, she would give you one of those vicious smiles. Like she won. It did not take long to realize it was all on purpose. In her own way, she was telling you loud and clear that she wanted you nowhere near Jasper and anytime you tried, she’d be there to show you just how little you mattered.

What hurt most, though, was how Jasper always listened to her. Every time, he would follow after her like a good soldier, casting you a guilty look over his shoulder. You didn’t blame him though. You couldn’t. Not when you knew the alternative.

So you got used to being alone for the first time in your life. The sadness, the one that Jasper kept at bay all that time, slowly crept back in, filling every nook and cranny of your being. Day after day, it got harder to stay, to listen to Maria’s direction. Even when you did listen, she treated you like a pest, contempt burning in her eyes. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to leave though. The thought alone made your heart ache, because that would mean leaving Jasper. No amount of distance could dampen those feelings that came so quickly. They were branded in your heart, a part of you now and probably forever. A simple look from him and you would resign yourself all over again to stay. 

Even if it got you killed.

Some days were too hard though, watching him follow on Maria’s heel, doing all she asked. It had been months since you talked, actually talked. Months since you heard him laugh or felt the comfort of his touch, no matter how small it was. And it hurt.

The pain made it hard to drink. You’d go weeks without blood, finding the burn of the hunger was better than the empty feeling in your chest. It made you weak, your skin turning almost translucent, the circles under your eyes growing darker and darker.

Jasper hated it. He had to watch as you fell into depression, your emotions like a dark cloud around you, so strong even the newborns walked on eggshells around you. He hated it, yet he could never do anything about it.

He wasn’t as oblivious as you thought him to be. He was aware of Maria’s resentment towards you. Jasper knew that if he showed his concern, even an inkling of it, she would lash out at you. At least by her side, he could temper her emotions and protect you.

His efforts could only go so far, though.

As you grew weaker, your ability weakened as well. And Maria noticed.

You wanted her to notice. 

Leaving wasn’t an option, but the pain of staying was becoming too much for you to bear. Death seemed like the only way out of this eternally lonely existence. You just hoped Jasper wouldn’t have to be the one to do it.

Maria never liked the easy way, though. Loyalty must be proven.

You felt it as soon as you stepped foot outside the barn one night. The air was warm and dark clouds covered the sky, blocking out any light. Something sank in your gut and you just knew.

If you were going to die, you were at least going to die somewhere you could be surrounded by good memories. So you trekked to the hill where you first stood with Jasper, the one where you spent many nights watching the stars, and that’s exactly where he found you.

You perch yourself on a rock, watching as lightning flashes in the clouds. The air is heavy with static, but not a single drop of rain falls. It’s like the world can’t decide how it feels, a mess of storms not ready to break, but needing to, the tension rising and rising. Until something gives.

You hear Jasper before you see him. His steps are uncharacteristically heavy, the brush whispering as he walks through it. The air grows impossibly heavier when he comes to an abrupt stop just feet away from you.

It’ll be quick, you think. You hardly have the strength to keep yourself upright, the burning in your throat like hot coals. With what energy you have left, you keep your chin up and slowly turn your gaze away from the clouds to the man behind you.

And you smile. Because it’s Jasper. Your Jasper. Looking just as broken as the first night you stood by him. 

Jasper’s knees practically buckle when you look at him, a wave of fondness warming the air around you. How can you still feel such a thing for him? After all he has done. You must know why he’s here. He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve the trust in your eyes.

“Don’t look like that,” you murmur, smile going sad. You can’t stand the guilt twisting those features you love so much. 

Jasper shakes his head, teeth gritting together so hard, his jaw creaks. He doesn’t want this. He can’t. Not with you looking at him like he’s hung the moon. No fear, no hatred. You should despise him.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper, as if hearing his thoughts.

“Darlin’-” 

He chokes on all the words he wants to say, everything he’s been waiting to say. How he wishes you could see the ocean, like you’ve always wanted. How he wants to be right there with you, just to see the way your eyes light up. How his eternal life finally seemed to have meaning when he met you.

“It’s okay, Jasper. I’m okay.” You reach for him, wanting nothing more than to just take his distress away. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. He gives in, allows you to take his hand, pull him closer. For you, he convinces himself, despite the selfish comfort he finds in your touch. “I know it’s not your decision. This has nothing to do with you,” you hesitate, squeezing his hands softly with a sad smile, “but I’m glad I got to talk to you one last time, at least. It’s not so scary if it’s you.”

“Stop.” His voice cracks like thunder, desperation bleeding into his eyes.

But there’s one last thing you need to say.

“I love you.”

Your eyes drift shut and you tilt your face back to the sky.

A drop of rain traces down your cheek.

Now you’re ready.

“I can’t.”

What?

You peek your eyes open, looking on in shock as Jasper kneels in front of you, face set in the most determined look you’ve ever seen. What’s happening?

“I can’t hurt you. I won’t,” he declares, red eyes set on you without a hint of hesitation.

You gape at him, head suddenly spinning, “But Maria-”

“I won’t let her hurt you either.”

“But Jasper- How- What-”

“Run away with me.”

You blink. And blink. And blink. If you had a working heart, it would be beating out of your chest at this point. Has he lost his mind?

“We’ll go to the States, to the ocean just like you want, leave all this behind.” The words spill out of him, the dam finally broken. Each word makes your eyes go wider, the sadness receding as hope sparks in your chest. “Please, darlin’. Give me a chance to make you happy.”

“Oh, Jasper.” You touch his face, drawing him just close enough to press a kiss to his forehead. Jasper’s eyes flicker shut, your love washing over him like the rain. Your next words seal the rest of your eternity, “You’ve always made me happy. We can go anywhere. As long as I’m with you, I’ll be the happiest woman in the world.”

And for the first time in forever, that smile slants over his lips, bright and warm and gorgeous.

You missed that smile so much.

That night, the two of you disappeared into the storm. You don’t know if Maria ever searched for you. If she did, she never found you.

Jasper kept his word. As soon as you crossed the border, you traveled to the west coast. You saw the ocean, which was more than you ever expected it to be, and that’s where you stayed for a while. Until you met the Cullens, at least.

You were nervous at first. Large covens were rare outside of the armies, so you didn’t trust them at first. There was no way you’d do that ever again. But you missed having a family, and looking at them, you couldn’t help but want for what they seemed to have.

“What do you think, Jas?” You ask your mate as you curl into his side.

He wraps an arm around you, lips pressing against your forehead softly, “Whatever you want, darlin’. They’re intentions seem honorable.”

“Would you be okay going vegetarian, though?” You love the idea. It’s always bothered you, having to kill innocent humans. Even feeding from the bad ones leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

“I’ll manage,” Jasper chuckles, eyes creasing.

“And the moving around?”

“We already do that, sugar.”

“Oh yah.” The Cullens move around far less than you, actually. You can’t believe they can stay in the same place for months, years even. The thought fills you with anticipation. Maybe you could finally settle down and have a normal life with Jasper.

“Maybe we could get a dog,” you hum, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

Jasper snorts, drawing you closer to press a kiss to your temple. You glance up at him, eyes bright with unrestrained excitement. And just like that, it’s decided.

“Let’s join them.”

“Alright! Oh! We could call him Cowboy! Can you imagine it? Cowboy the dog. It’d be perfect.”

“Anythin’ you want, darlin’.”

And that’s how you ended up with the Cullens.

---

“...wow.”

You grin at Bella, “I know, it’s a lot. But it all worked out for the best! I can’t imagine my life any different.”

“And I can’t imagine my life without you.” Your smile goes even wider when a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

You look over your shoulder at your mate, eyes practically lighting up with affection, “Good, cause you’d be hard pressed to get rid of me at this point.”

Bella watches the small interaction, surprised to see the blond vampire without his usual stoic facade. He’s like a completely different person, practically melting into your touch, and smiling. Actually smiling. And you look just as lovestruck.

“You guys make a cute couple,” she says, feeling a bit awkward when you turn your gaze back to her.

“Thanks Bells. You and Eddie make just as cute of one. I can’t wait to go to your wedding.”

The brunette flushes what must be the darkest shade of red possible, successfully mimicking a cherry. She shuffles away with some muttered excuse, and you can’t hold back a giggle.

“You’re evil, darlin’,” Jasper murmurs, shaking his head.

You flip around in his hold, arms wrapping around his neck, “What! You know it’s going to happen. Edward’s completely smitten with that girl.”

“Still doesn’t mean you have to torture the poor thing,” he chastises, though he can’t hide the mirth in his tone.

“Fine. I guess I can take it easy on her,” you sigh dramatically, earning another chuckle from your mate.

“That’s my girl.”

You tuck yourself into his chest, hiding a truly ecstatic smile in his jacket. To this day, you still can’t believe that this is your life.

You really wouldn’t change anything about it. Not the bad things, not the start, none of it. You like to think your love is stronger because of it. And it will only continue to grow stronger every day for the rest of your eternity together.

You can’t wait to see where the two of you go.

---

This was not meant to get so edgy, but here we are. I never really know what I'm writing until it's finished.

Anyways! I hope you guys enjoyed the angst, hurt and comfort! A really fluffy fic will be coming next, and I am SO excited about it.

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #twilight saga #jasper whitlock #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #read with caution

[angstyhikka]

Hi guys, meet Ludwig's au, there are dicks, criminals and a thousand and one trigger warnings, just the way we like it :))))))

Here's a description from Ludwig herself.

AU without magic, modern world.

At the center of the plot is (you'd be surprised) poor Philip. In this AU he is a brothel owner and part time drug dealer. He's called the Laugh Seller. All the guys who were members of the Imperial Coven in canon work for him - like Lilith and Kikimora are his right and left hands. Hunter is here too, his duties include running errands and selling merchandise on the street. One day he came to his uncle's house and demanded in an ultimatum to hire him. Despite the fact that Hunter's father, Caleb, is strongly against the two of them socializing. The story with Caleb is also complicated - in their shared childhood with Philip, as in canon, Caleb walked away, leaving his brother in a religious cult where the two orphans were cared for. Philip, after some events that are sometimes banned on the internet for describing, ended up first in an orphanage and then in crime. The reunion of the brothers, although it was without the death penalty, did not go well, and their relationship since then somehow did not go any better. Caleb frankly despises his brother for his occupation and hates to interact with him. Because of this treatment and a difficult past made Phillip often experience depressive episodes, with which he copes with a knife, alcohol and drugs. Luz, who came into his life by coincidence, showing up at a brothel on her coming-of-age day, is a ray of sunshine in this kingdom of darkness. And Archie, who came into Philip's life like a sledgehammer blow to the head, became a constant reminder of the futility of existence and the impossibility of controlling his own destiny. At some point Caleb will come to his senses, and will want to intervene in his brother's life, but it's a long story that will be told in the fanfic.

#toh laugh seller au #laugh seller #phillip wittebane #archie the archivist #luz toh #toh emperor belos #nelos

[devouringdevoutly]

The Hound of Heaven

Summary: Whoever said that you can't fuck God clearly hasn't met Bada yet.

Note: There is no actual god in this fic, it's just straight up a world ran by the Devil. This is also biblically inaccurate as well so please don't stone me to death. Again, this is a work of fiction and does not reflect real life situations and relationships. Originally posted on ao3. CW: Smut, Church Sex, Confessional Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Cunnilingus, Demon Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Religious Guilt, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Cheating, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Lemon. Pairing: Bada/Reader Language: English Words: 1,897

Whoever said that you can't fuck God clearly hasn't met Bada yet.  

That was the first coherent thought that had formed in my brain as her long fingers slid in and out of me, my warm and wet cavern welcoming her with so much exuberance you'd think I won the lottery jackpot. It sure did feel like that as I was cornered by her towering height and the wooden walls that the booth was made out of, all the while her snake-like tongue making sure she'd had enough of mine. I should feel disgusted by the way our mouths met. The way our tongues glided so ferociously that it made an obscene amount of wet noises that were clearly bouncing off the walls off the confessional booth. The way that my sap trickled down along my legs as Bada mercilessly continued on fingering me. The booth that was once used to repent one's sins was now used to make one after the other.

I should probably feel burdened by the weight of the situation I was in but who cares? My mind and body was stuck in a limbo named Bada. 

Her hands then roamed to my now bare breasts as she had managed  to rip off my brassiere and the white sundress that I wore earlier, was now practically holding onto its dear life as it was solely held by Bada sandwiching me between her and the wall. She then squeezed and fondled my left bosom, my nipples were already hardening by the cold air hitting it. I let out an elicit whine that even I didn't know I could make and my back arched against the wall like a frightened cat. 

Bada's mouth had now reached my right nipple, her tongue flickered back and forth as I moaned like a bitch in heat and I could feel her physically smirk through it. Both of her hands were more than preoccupied, her left hand was groping my left tit and her thumb was playing with my bud, all the while her right hand was still pumping deep inside of me; making sure that she curls her fingers every once in a while but purposely never hitting the spot so as to deny me of reaching my high anytime soon. 

She finally pulled back from tantalizing my sore nipples and she eventually stopped pumping my equally sorely soaked cunt. I whined at the loss of contact as Bada's tall figure leaned onto me. 

"I wonder if your wimpy god-fearing boyfriend knows how much of a whore his girlfriend truly is…" She says with a shit eating grin, I swallowed the lump in my throat as I didn't feel any sort of guilt for betraying him… I knew that even Judas did feel a tremendous amount of guilt as he had sold the blood of Christ for a mere thirty silver coins. I knew that the moment I had planted my lips against Bada's, that the Devil had penetrated into every part of my being as he did so with Judas Iscariot.

Nevertheless Jesus had already forgiven him before he even committed his sin, perhaps that idiotically pious of a Christian man will forgive me too if there is anything to be forgiven in the first place. If that is the case then I'll gladly break bread and be consumed by her as his disciples did in the last supper, every intrusion that she had made inside my walls was a carving of our covenant.

I already had my bite of the forbidden fruit and there was no turning back to the Garden of Eden.

"Stop talking about that twat and just fuck me already will you?" I groaned out as my hole clenched and unclenched around her fingers. I knew that my words were as insolent as our actions were. Father, will you forgive me for this rotten curiosity of mine? or will you banish me as you had with Lilith and Eve? 

"Demanding much? I'm sure you already know that you're the one at my mercy here, angel." Her cocky tone had only gotten me wetter and my cunt pulsed as fast as my heartbeat did. Bada's smile turned wider, almost menacingly as she had clearly noticed my reaction to her degrading words. My mind was in a haywire, my vision was turning hazy as I could see the face of God in the Devil's body. Why did God make the devil's advocate painstakingly handsomely gorgeous if he didn't want me to dive into the river Styx? 

"You like that hmmm?" Her thumb pressed meanly against my clit. She knew exactly what she was doing, the pet name? Angel of all things after calling me a whore? I let out another whine as my cunt's lips fluttered.

"Fuck… if you only knew how much I wanna fuck you on the altar… Fuck you in front of those foolish devotees singing words of praise to their equally foolish god. Make you cum with my mouth as they sing lamb of god or whatever the fuck they cry out in these futile masses." She crooned out as she rested her head against my neck and continuously drove three of her fingers inside my plump sopping cunt. Her staggering breath tickled my neck with every word that she had sermonized. I knew she would've done it if I just didn't have a reputation to keep, as if fornicating in a confessional booth was a last act of mercy on her part.

I knew that I was reaching my peak with every thrust Bada had propelled and she knew it too. The ascend to my peak was immediately put to a stop as Bada had other plans in mind. She quickly pulled her fingers out of me, leaving me with a pathetic gaping hole. My resolve had been long gone and my knees were absolutely weak, threatening to give up on me at any moment. 

In a swift movement I was easily lifted by Bada and was placed on the velvet cushion of the enclosed box's seat like some ragdoll. 

She seized hold of my feet and placed a chaste kiss on it before kissing the entirety of my legs, from my sole to my thighs. It was an intimate moment as if she was almost offering a prayer of thanks before she started to devour every bit and piece of me.

She stretched out her hands and deftly parted my legs like the red sea, I could see her devious grin as she had finally a closer and more intimate view of my aching fleshy cunt. I knew that I was embarrassingly wet and that I was absolutely sore but I didn't dare look down as I was afraid to meet her eyes and see what she had done to me. 

"Look at me." Bada said in a benign but firm manner, quite the contrast as she had grabbed my face forcefully and for a moment I was confused. Why the sudden tenderness? Bada's firm hand let go of my jaw before she dove into my ocean of wetness, her forked tongue slithered inside of me like a snake. I couldn't hold myself back anymore as I moaned loudly within the confines of the wooden booth, both sides of her tongue were able to move on their own accord and it just gave her a better aim at her insistent prodding. Bada didn't dare to cover up the noises I made anymore as the ongoing mass was clearly about to end, the people in their assigned seats were standing to give praise to the Lord.

Her tongue kept on ambushing both my lips and cavern, my tears of pleasure had now mixed with the sweat that I've accumulated with how steamy the enclosed space had gotten. I could smell the scent of sex and oak mixing together creating a musk. Somehow my senses were heightened once Bada had started eating me out, I was now conscious of the noise from the outside almost taunting me that we weren't safe from being walked in on by a random passerby. 

Bada's gaze met mine, as if her foxy calculating eyes pierced through every part of my being. My eyes were hazy from my tears and I could definitely feel myself getting there. 

And with one last skillful flick, I pressed her further into my cunt by grabbing onto her hair. I came hard on her tongue, filling her mouth with so much cum that it dropped down to her chin. I lustily moaned as the churchgoers outside had finally reached the chorus of the song, their harmonious high pitched singing had covered up mine. Bada had finally lifted her head and I looked at her just with a stupefied yet content daze. 

She finally sat up from her kneeling position before grabbing my face and roughly pressing our lips together. She kept much of my cum inside of her mouth before forcefully transferring it into mine, making me swallow and taste myself whole. My eyes widened before accepting my fate as I swallowed all of it without any defiance.

Bada kept our tongues in a languid movement until she could feel that I was running out of breath. Our mouths have finally parted ways and I could feel some sense of shame brewing inside of me but it was quickly interrupted by the clap of unison from the crowd, indicating that the mass has finally ended. I took multiple breaths before gathering the strength to pick up my discarded underwear and fix my dress up as Bada did the same for herself. I stood by the door, hesitating, leaving my hand and heart too heavy to open to unlock the doorknob and end this affair with the Devil herself. 

I took a final deep breath before opening it but Bada suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Where do you think you're going my sweet cherub?" Her voice had a hint of malice and possessiveness in between lines, she raised an eyebrow and looked at me suspiciously. I looked at her a bit dumbfounded.

"H-home?" My voice trembled as I whispered my answer, I was unsure of myself where I was heading to either. I felt absolutely lost as my mind was now clear of any trace of lust and desperation, the realization dawning on me that I had just sold myself to the Devil for a mere exchange of ineffable pleasure that I was only to experience just once in my life. 

Bada grinned mischievously as she pulled me to her chest before she pressed her mouth against my ear. 

"You're coming with me." She whispered as her voice had dropped and shifted into something a lot more sinister sounding. 

I stood frozen in shock, I could feel my breathing pattern falter with each and every second passing by. I had come face to face with the Devil and willingly danced with her. 

I was finally faced with the cold hard truth that I had left the Garden of Eden long ago. I had laid with her under the thorny olive branches of Gethsemane. I had fed the evil with every bit of my purity in its wake. I had now buried every living being in me, I was now bound to her for eternity, unable to suffer the fruit of Eve's mortality. 

#bada lee #bada lee smut #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #fanfic #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #sapphic #kinktober #wlw #wlw ns/fw #queer ns/fw #ns/fw #don't like don't read #don't like don't interact #lemon #kpop #Spotify