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porcelainseashore · 2 months

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Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Authors' Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reigned their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair.

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot.

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents.

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore.

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you.

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked.

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow.

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively.

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted.

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour.

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips.

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds.

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you.

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #religious au #church au #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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4swearitsight · 2 years

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Love finding out things about myself thru the backstories I give my dnd characters

#i just had a Moment where I realized pretty much all of them were sheltered and cooped inside for most of their childhood #and then at 18/19/20 set off into the world and experience everything with wide eyed wonder #HMMM projecting a bit??#like literally Violet: cooped inside by demon worshipping cult #Faye: raised in a gated cult like community #Rhodocedae: raised in a secluded earth genasi community #Gif: ok Gif not so much but she was raised in a gang in a singular city #the Implications lmao #ADDITION: Religious character is shunned from community but god hasn’t given up on them yet so they’re gonna keep doing their best

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ladythornofrivia · 14 days

Text

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Two)

word count:

author’s note: writing more chapters of a sad dragon family series. I’ll be on a Norwegian cruise line for Italy and Greece for 2 weeks. I’m gonna be seasick, I already know it. So I’ll be writing this series before I leave. Please enjoy and have a good day.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

The preparations for the celebration of King Viserys has reached closer whilst you accompanied Alicent into the corridor, corridor after corridor of a long tour within the Red Keep. Servants bowed as you all passed. Cold bows and cold eyes lingered, despite their bare minimums of smiling graciously at your direction, as Alicent presented the halls with lavish decor. However, mostly it was green and gold. But others blended it with black and red.

As always, you’re marveled by the exquisite lace and embroidered patterns and a clear structure of its final design of artwork is invigorating. The stitching is what you’re most impressed of.

As all Targaryens and Hightowers strolling, Alicent parted ways with her children, unbeknownst to you, the one-eyed prince had his hands behind his back, violet shade of eye looming over your new gown designed by the seamstress, all soft-shaded periwinkle, strapped with gold embroidery and green and red, streaks of iridescent shun upon sunlight, your manes healthy and glowing, maintained through and through.

You knew he was watching. With his precious one violet eye gleaming at the back of your head, your body shivered in an alien sensation. As for Aemond, a dragon’s hunger is anything but stable or sane. A dragon’s hunger is like a breath of wild fire casted to the torch of the wondrous nature and life itself. The fire eats and leaves the bones of ash, dwindling in midair.

Aegon I altered the history and thus, House Targaryen must stand with unity and strength and blood.

Still parted aways after an idle chat, for Alicent to task with decorations, as her children were long gone, back into your large chambers, you were unpacking your materials for the completion on a quilt, a quilt with colorful dragons and mermaids and ships, various shades of sews and needles unpacked, as the back of your neck tingled with goosebumps as you felt a hot breath stroking.

Before you turned around, large and slender hands travelled over your clothed waist, nearly close to your chest above. A writhe of hot tingle rushing in your coils and chest. A quiet breath strained, lax down to a low hiss, a hiss nearly tickling your skin. No servants were around, no Alicent or Gwayne.

Aemond, a one-eyed prince has lurked and captured you. A princess sent by a Maiden herself. The fiery dragon must seize the princess.

You thought he has gone back to training yard with Ser Criston, as Alicent mentioned once at the entryway within a prolonged conversation.

“Aemond—”

His face inched close to yours, his supple and pretty lips touched your cheeks, trailed down to your jawline, whilst his left hand grasp your face to stay still. The pool between your legs gradually strengthened its warmth and slick, easily for the prince to prance and insert into your tight hole. Under the layers of silk dress, Aemond bunched the layered fabrics to your waist.

You never had a noble taken an interest in you. The only that interests them is the brightness of your teal eyes.

A mesmerizing glow of your hues has yanked his curiosities. His mother never mentioned him about you—not even once in a dubious talk.

Better late than never.

With his hand, fingers strapped, and his trimmed nails clutched the fabric of your corset, the laces loosener it in smooth motion, loosening around your frame, breasts ached as his hand—his cold hand—brushed and pinched your nipple while his other hand found his way your thigh, grasped as Aemond’s tongue flicked and his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your clit.

A moan escaped, your mouth shielded, you face drowned in flush, as Aemond’s heart leapt in satisfaction. Humming, he stood up and inserted his fingers into your cunt, thrusting the fingers in with doubled speed as your moans grew louder, but restrained the pleasure into your chest, holding it. The walls in the Red Keep are dire; servants and nobles and guards walked passed and patrolled through wall and doors. Even the highest nobles strolled by.

“Fuck,” is all he said, as if it was a prayer. “Your cunt might be as Holy as the Maiden herself.”

His lips sucked your swollen tit.

“My prince,” you cried softly. “Please. The guards, my brother and sister will see us.”

“I do not care of their pious thoughts.”

“I’m your aunt, my pri—”

“Don’t fight it, my sweet,” he said, giving a sensual flick on his warm tongue to your swollen flesh, “I might give you a reason to have bruise on you, ones that they’ll never find on your skin.” His hands grasped your waist, trailing with soft strokes. “You’re humiliated. Maybe there’s more than meets the eye.”

Based on his words, you never thought you found it attractive, considering the soft spoken voice, hoarse with arousal.

“Don’t fight it. If you fight against this, this subtle encounter between us, you’ll never forgive yourself,” he whispered, his wet lips brushed yours. “If you have been, you would shoved me away. Would you like that, princess? Shoving me away?”

His voice ragged dampened your cunt and clit twitched at his sound.

“Seems you enjoy it. You’re a good princess. But alas,” he pulled himself afar, the warmth on your body began to turn a chill.

“I shall see you at the feast. Enjoy your stay.” His neck went for a stiff bow, but his eye glued with plea for your consideration of his statement, whether you accept his offer or not, and departed your apartment—a once organized structure is now filled with clutter and oozing sex and the arousal groans you shared has imprinted in your head, you find yourself still with embarrassment.

In a way, a blessing in disguise when no one, not even Gwayne, saw or heard your affairs with a young dragon prince.

You have seen the arrival of Rhaenyra and Daemon and the children, you had a short introduction to all Black faction.

The dinner celebration for Viserys’s nameday celebration has been all but cumbersome. You felt a subtle hostility, but to due your presence, it has lessened but somewhat guarding up—all due to pettiness.

As you, making a progression with your father, it was all but cold distance even you and Otto were near. Not once he looked at you with adoration like he shared his adoration with Princess Helaena, showing her teal beetle. The Green children are all strained; Aegon had his fair share of capable stupidity to throw down a nasty comment of his cousins and nephews.

Daeron was disappointed with Aegon’s perversions, but Daeron veered at you with a kind smile and made a polite conversation with you. Once again, Otto did not acknowledged of your accomplishments. You felt sick in the stomach, and it’s not your bright gold and yellow dress you have finished making. Tears behind your eyes was arising, and your throat budged with hot and parched sting.

Aemond clenched his fist, for his anger was directed at his grandsire for not noticing you. That damnable old fool—if only Otto sees how your talents. When Viserys disregarded Aemond, even his siblings, he wanted nothing more than to see him dead. But alas, with your existence, it’s almost as if Viserys’s existence just naturally died out.

You pardoned yourself, and Alicent thereby dismissed you, you bowed and left to your chambers, spent the rest of the night weeping, thinking what have you done wrong.

As you exited, the tensed feeling withdrew, and Otto was happy again. And so, without a doubt, Aemond gave a good jab on Otto, which caused a disastrous supper for everyone. The music stopped. As for Aegon and Daemon, they found it amusing while Alicent ordered the guards to escort Aemond way back to his chambers.

For Aegon, this was a win for him. He’s not in trouble for once.

~~~

In dreams, you have never seen your mother, what she appears like or what she sounds like or how her personality was. The only thing that is closest to being a mother to you is the wetnurse or the servants or the Septa who provided you with assistance on your daily appearances and wisdom. Whenever a servant brushes your hair, you often think of what it feels like to have a mother brushing your manes with care and doting manner, a soft voice to soothe your aching heart, where doubts and fears would go away.

In times of sleep, you often thinking of ending your life, just to see your biological mother on the other side. Or perhaps more than just seeing your mother. There are times where you hated your life, and you want nothing more but to end it.

People have often told stories of your mother, though it felt it was a grave mistake. Some say she fled away to Free Cities, some said she ended her life from the highest tower of Oldtown and fell down to the sea. There are rumors where Otto took you because you’re adopted, or perhaps he had a secret, illicit affairs.

The cold feeling rushed in you as your eyes pricked with tears. With somebody telling you stories of your late mother, it brought no peace. Only the enigma of your shadowed doubts and an endurance of chaotic insanity, to question whether your life is real, if you’re real in this world with purpose.

The servants have been kind to you more than the nobles, the more everyone pointed out your flaws and the insignificance of your existence, you lead to believe that you’ll never be loved.

And cried once more. Each night, your tears flooded in pillows and blanket, as you embraced the closest object, pretended that it’s your late mother. An endless of an anguish thought has been a hazard.

Only the echoes of the walls could hear you and the pillows has stained, under your hug squeezed the material as hard, wishing for the pain to go away.

In his awake, he’s a perfect prince, but in his dreams, he’s a beast.

A beast kept within a shell of a noble man.

He has dreamt of your teal eyes basking in his dark dreamland, your voice, how it was yearning so much more. A dark dreamland filled with scornful memories of his nephews and Aegon, and the pink dread. He had kill all of them in his dreams, even the fat pig.

With a scolding from his mother, he couldn’t care less. He wanted your presence to be acknowledged by your father, but how can Otto be so cynically dimwitted and more offensively calculating against you?

When the servants spoke over how you’re not related to Alicent, chances are why Otto was pretending that your presence is nothing more than a useless and meaningless substance of meaning to exist.

Others said that they haven’t seen you gone out from your apartments—and that was recent.

Aemond visited you, presented you with a gift, but the word from you not leaving the apartments has concerned. Thus his mind came up an idea.

You have several servants entering the room with stack of your favorite meals and drink—including lemon cakes and Dornish wine.

One knows someone’s best interest. Whoever did it, your heart is elated. As soon as Aemond came in, you hadn’t known whether he knew something that you don’t. Somehow, his intimidating presence softens your heart, prickled in relief.

For some reason, when Alicent paid you a visit, although shortened, she was concerned of your health, you hadn’t formed a proper conversation; Alicent hasted when the Council has called for her summon, but gave her regards.

Aemond accompanied you for a while in your apartments, and chat whatever discussion came up. Each minute and each hour, the two of you became close, became so close that you or him hadn’t open your hearts, despite what he did to you days ago. With your cunt coiled at his face, his voice and neck, his waist, you find yourself crossing your legs, aroused and squirming beside him. You wondered and imagined of Aemond’s tongue guiding and gliding your soaked cunt. At this moment, you wanted tackle him and suffocate him with your legs wrapped around him, taking in of your nectar.

“I’m glad you are doing well, princess,” Aemond said to you. “For I have been concerned of your well-being. A delicate flower such as you does not deserve the cruelty of my grandsire or anyone in the matter of your visit.”

“He’s always been difficult,” you explained. “No matter how much I’ve improved with my skill, he’ll never sees as his or my sister’s equal.”

“In ways my mother and grandsire are more intolerable. Though I respect my mother, I find myself with bore with my grandsire has to say. If anything, I’m glad your presence has casted a light into the dread.”

In Aemond’s case, however, found you as exquisite as gentle as the blooming flower. His one took a longer glimpse at you and notice the difference—how your eyes glinted in glee while your cheeks adorned with youthful flush and enamored smile. Oh so pure and harmless. He hasn’t seen his mother and his siblings. As for Otto, he hasn’t spoke to him since supper at Viserys’s nameday after sending a jab across the face—out of character for a self-assured prince.

Oh, to ruin you.

“Thank you for the meal, Prince Aemond. You don’t know how much I’m relieved to say this,” you said as you finished the embroidery on your unfinished dress you sewn.

Aemond found your gowns just as otherworldly as you.

Consequences won’t matter; Viserys nor anyone else in the room care for his presence. Perhaps it is a blessing, perhaps it is for the best for you to be settled here in King’s Landing, as long you’re in content, nothing else matters, but if harm does come, he shall smite the immoral act. Aemond is no perfect, but with you, he’d be at his best behavior.

“Then I shall relieve you,” he proclaimed.

You find yourself halted at his declaration and glimpsed at his resolved expression.

Something has stirred in your heart that you wanted more than the civil interactions, wanted more than having someone to converse with you.

Tossing and turning onto your bed was all but a doozy. Dizzy from pivoting and switching positions, you had enough. Dreams had come again. This time it’s Aemond calling out to you, feasting on your wet folds and pumping his lithe and graceful rugged fingers in you. Ever since the day before Viserys’s nameday, with Aemond’s thirst, your legs ached.

For a Hightower, it’s a sin to self-pleasure one’s body—a selfish immoral act.

Somehow you found it odd. If a man does self-pleasure, no court would turn the eye, but a woman does self-pleasure with hasting fingers and naughtiness is considered dire.

Faith of the Seven had their own laws, but you knew that men and women had their fair share of illest secrets. Lucky for you, Alicent and everyone in the Red Keep does not know your impure thoughts. The room became hot, then cold, then all at once, the breath in your lips became ragged and desperate. You wanted someone to hold you, treasure you, seduce with sweet nothings and sweet promises with adore.

For your years of not having a partner, you have begun to fear of not having pleasure. In the heating moment, you thought of what’s like losing your maidenhood to someone with a big cock.

You wanted a cock.

His cock.

Oh, a dragon prince. If Aemond hears your thoughts, you’d run away and never to return Westeros and give yourself a new name and fashion.

Damn the consequences and the punishments from the Lord Hand and the Queen themselves! Damn the Faith of the Seven and their laws!

With your fingers circling your clit, no climax arrived. Thus, you casted your blankets aside with a huff, setting out to see him.

Trudging through the dark halls, the guards were nowhere to be found, assuming the guards went elsewhere. As you made your way to the doors, you approached and entered the chambers where you have found Aemond on his bedside.

Your breath held back, taking in at the sight of Aemond. With his porcelain skin and his long silver-blond hair, it gleamed under moonlight, appearing paler compared to daylight. His eye had an old scar, and his eyepatch was placed elsewhere.

Watching his body rising and falling within breath, you approached him and kissed his back, planted your light kisses, feeling the smooth surface of his skin.

Aemond awoke and turned, found you kissing his back.

“My lady,” he whispered, one eye widened, as you stare at his sapphire. It was beautiful like him.

You placed your finger on his lips.

“Have you come to made a decision?” he asked.

Your lashes fluttered under his gaze. “What do you think, my prince?”

Then your lips collided with his. Aemond was taken aback of your sudden act. Eventually, his consciousness fell; with his lips shared an illicit chaste kiss, his hands uncloaked you, and roamed on your womanly body, caressing you, until you began to undo his trousers, his cock hardened.

“This won’t take long,” you promised, slowly pinning him down onto the pillows, unstrapped yourself naked and sat in between his legs. You didn’t expect for his cock to harden.

Your eyes darted to his, awaiting. And thus, you yanked his trousers downward, unveiling his hardened cock. You eyes widened at the sheer size. Your maidenhood hasn’t been taken yet. Your future prospects of marriage hasn’t arrived, but it feels as the more you wait, the more your chances of marriage dimmed. With your body descended, the maidenhood had met his engorged tip.

Aemond lay still, watching you. His sapphire eye gleamed at its victory.

Your voice moaned aloud; your maidenhood slammed down, his engorged cock tightened on your damped walls. Gradually, the pace on your hips sped. You have never felt anything as good. Prayers in the sept are insatiably helpful compare to the prince’s cock.

You have never felt so alive.

Aemond knew you’re a virgin; your hips bounced all thanks to the guidance of his hands.

He pleasured a woman in the brothel in the Street of Silk at the age of three-and-ten. As a young boy, he regretted making a decision by making himself a fool to go along with Aegon and his shenanigans. He was expecting Viserys to guide him gently into the world, but the Driftmark incident has left Aemond concluded that Viserys, his father, did not spare a single kindness or thought and only spared it Rhaenyra and her sons.

All hope was lost until he saw you—a radiant maiden.

You reached your high, as Aemond clutched your hips, spurring down the hot semen bursting the inner walls—a divine conclusion.

Gasping for air, your legs stood achingly, leaving white traces of his semen dripping down on his balls and thighs. When Aemond tried to assisted you, but instead his face met your open legs and slammed your went against his chiseled face and nose.

Fuck my maidenhood, you thought, desperate, as your hips gyrated, feeling his warm tongue and the sharp line of his nose encouraged your arousing sense to further the climax, as your right hand found its way at the back of Aemond’s hair.

Aemond find himself humming against the warmth of your cunt, mingling with his semen. It was a divination, nothing like the brothel. If only his virginity had taken by you instead of a woman who hasn’t live up to her beauty and standards of gentile and grace. Streets of Flea Bottom aren’t to be trusted. His lips kissed your inner thighs, gliding his tongue, and pumped it in between your walls.

Groaning, almost feral-like, your hips paced, your tits bouncing as your walls grew hot again.

“Relieve me,” you said to the prince, hoarse. A soft squeak caught into his ears.

I shall relieve you, my sweet. Just as I promised, he thought.

Your hips gyrated harder, until the spurring had come close; hot liquid squirted on his face as Aemond’s tongue lapped on your cunt faster than last. Your head threw back with his languid strokes on his warm tongue.

Gods it was a miracle.

He has taken your maidenhead.

“Good boy,” you cooed, your breath rasped, your hand still placed on the back of his long silver-blond hair, gyrating your tired hips against his face.

Both you and Aemond found yourselves in elation.

“Good boy.”

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harmonysanreads · 10 months

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just a thought but smth LAUGHABLY funny is a very bitter neuvillette. since he’s in a very high position of power, his words might even be law itself atp, so imagine him as your loser bitter ex.

trying to execute this can be silly—bc who’s willing to go that far to spite someone’s ex? neuvillette probably would. bc you see: he cherished you so much. he was willing to grovel for you, disregarding his status and his character. you’ve seen it all, him breaking his cold mask. beneath it all, is just a very clingy and obsessive man. so once you left under the pretences of him being “too overbearing, it was suffocating you,” he let it go quite well. you thought he’d argue with you on it (as he would usually do) and even forbid you from leaving. but nay, you left him the next day with his head hung low and a look of defeat shadowing his face. it felt like mutual acceptance for both parts, it was hard of course, but at least you were glad neuvillette didn’t react harshly against you.

give it a month, not too long, until you realise that you’ve been laid off. quite harshly. you had a pretty stable job with good income. suddenly your boss sends you a letter one day out of the blue. your boss says you’ve been fired. why? you asked. didn’t say much. ok, maybe it’s time to go find another job. you do, only to end up being turned away from every single one you’ve applied to. have you been blacklisted? what did you do exactly for the entirety of fontaine to completely shun you away?

you’re low-key struggling with your income. the place you were staying at, you’re on the verge of being kicked out because you’re behind payments. you might as well flee this city altogether, but you really don’t want to give up since you’ve lived your whole life here. you keep on pursuing, finding any place willing to take you in. unsurprisingly, you’ve met a dead end. you’re teetering the edge of snapping so you wonder, has it something to do with your records? because as far as you know, you once had a good job that you got all by yourself due to you track record and lists of achievements. not a single blemish, you think, is on your track record. you were once well respected and regarded by peers and acquaintances alike, but now? you are nothing but a mere ghost to them, completely forgotten. so after much contemplation, you’re seizing to get your hands on your papers and records. were you that unqualified?

until one day, your questions were answered. there was a loud knock coming from your door. it was your last week living at your house, so when you opened the door to welcome the government officials at your doorsteps, they eyed boxes behind you. the space behind you was barren and it did not feel like a home anymore. there’s a sullen look on your face, so with a sympathetic sigh the man in front of you stated his reason for coming here. “we have a warrant out for your arrest.”

it rushes out like a wave that smothers you. a warrant? you haven’t done anything unlawful, you’re sure of it. but now as you bask in this dreadful situation, is that why your life has slowly fallen apart? there’s no way, no way that’s true. what crime did you commit? did you do something awfully criminal or something completely small that the laws of fontaine has harshly persecuted you for? fontaine has always been strict in that regard. “what for?” you ask, it sounded like you had an entire list of crimes you were hiding, yet you had a look of genuine surprise and confusion. “multiple, actually.” the man responds. ok, now this is getting really weird. he asks if you’re willing to come with them for questioning, maybe discuss about it more thoroughly, perhaps it can answer some of the questions frantically falling out of your mouth.

you come with them, under arrest currently, as they have you transported to some kind of holding room. you’re now scared shitless, wondering what possibly could you have done wrong. you’re praying to archons that this was all just a dream. you’re life was already going to shit, but now? you’ve completely reached your breaking point. all in a span of a few months where you were laid off without any explanation, blacklisted from every place apparently, and as of last week you were packing up your things to leave your home without even knowing where to go. now, you just found out you had not one, but MULTIPLE warrants. you started laughing, quite uncomfortably, at yourself the more you pondered. the echo of your lonely laughs laughed back at you as you stared across a wall as it all slowly melted into a choked sob. what were you going to do now?

before you could sit in silent reflection any longer, the door next to you creaked open. you turn to look at who it was, expecting to see an investigator or maybe even a lawyer, but your face fell the moment you saw who it was.

neuvillette. that bastard.

he enters and sits in front of you, with a proposition that makes your stomach twists and turn. he’s made your life a complete hell and now he saunters his power and hold against you, painting it as a guiding light. he said, he’d help you against your warrants. perhaps even help you reconvene your entire life that has been shattered. it sounds a little too good to be true and it was happening all to fast. your life fell apart the moment you left him. and now? you had a chance to pick it all back up. “so, what’s the catch?”

you really hated that look on his face when you asked. you only knew, you’d be trapped regardless of the choice you make wether to accept his offer or not.

(if i ever return in the future: can i be 🗽 anon?)

Just a thought???? 🗽anon THIS IS A FULL-COURSE MEAL, A BANQUET.

But what you despised more was how it made you feel, that curve of his lips was uncharacteristic— if you were being generous in your description— and malicious if you were not. It made you feel as though you were thrown into the ocean without any experience of swimming, it sent the twirling of your thoughts askew and the air stolen from your lungs.

“Why, you'll have to be mine again. No second chances, no excuses, no backing out.” Neuvillette shifts in his seat, inching just the right bit closer to your increasingly distressed form.

“...Of course, of course! Why didn't I think it sooner? This was all your doing, you were behind it all! You—” it took all your willpower to not take advantage of the distance and commit something that'd actually earn you a cell in Fontaine's jail, hand settling on jabbing a finger at the judge's chest to rid your rage even in the slight.

You're unsure of what your visage has contorted to, your restless eyes search his for a reflection, blurred emotions stare back at you. Your body trembles as the dots connect, a touch of silk transferred across your whole palm as it fists against his ribbon. For a moment, you vacillate between who to be angry at ; him, the corrupt world or you. If the universe had at least sent a sign a month prior, your litany of curses could've been directed at the culprit instead of your fate.

“I should've known you were up to something when you didn't retaliate, when you just let me go like that, I should've...I..”

At this instance, vehement words threaten to spill from your lips as well but a fraction of what remains of your sanity makes you hold your tongue as the gravity of your situation settles in, only a croaked why escaping past your throat. It must've been pitiful, because Neuvillette's smirk falters and straightens into a thin line. One gloved hand takes a tentative hold of your wrist still clinging to his clothes and you hate how familiar his touch feels.

“Do you wish to know why?”

The offer entices your head to rise again, you take a shaky inhale and the Chief Justice proceeds according to the cue.

“Because I love you.”

One of the lamps illuminating the room flickers off, that little sound bounces off of the walls and fills the deathly quiet momentarily. Fury turns to confusion and then disbelief. Your fingers slacken and this time, his hand tightens around your wrist.

“You're insane.”

Neuvillette's head tilts in inquisition, a wordless encouragement for you to continue.

“You abused your power, had me fired and blacklisted from all the working environments of Fontaine, soiled my reputation and attached false crimes to my name.. because you love me?”

Your free arm reaches for the judge's collar and yanks him closer, a grunt escapes him but he makes no further move and it unsettles you. For such an offensive action, you'd expected a nasty glare at the very least ; while that would've been scary, it'd still make more sense than the neutral expression on his fair face.

“Yes, is this not what is common? You told me yourself that you do everything within your power to hold onto the person you love.” his nonchalant answer has you let go of the fabric hastily, backing away as though you were faced with an alien instead of a man. Neuvillette never relinquishes his hold but a sigh does escape him at your behavior, a somewhat normal reaction at last.

“I once praised your stubbornness as your biggest strength but do you not see that at this moment, it's your greatest weakness? It's holding you back from rewinding everything.” the judge leans in and you lean away til your back hits the seat, he pins you by your wrist.

“I promise all will be resolved, no one in the entirety of this nation will utter a word about this, everyone will behave as though nothing happened, that this was just a tiny lovers' quarrel. All you have to do is say yes.” Neuvillette's white locks tickle your skin, his voice turns hushed in utmost secrecy and his breath fans the heat blossoming across your neck.

You want to push him away, you want to recoil from his proximity and you want the earth to split open and swallow you whole. His free hand takes your chin and forces you to face the tempest brewing in his eyes, the intensity pushes you to break and to comply — you don't want to comply or to say yes. Because you know what happens if you do, it's the exact suggestion he'd whispered before your engagement but it was different then. Back then, you'd known you could back out and that's why you'd been worriless. You could deny him now as per your sheer pertinacity as well, but Neuvillette makes it clear that all that'd do is making the path to the inevitable more painful.

After all, the waves never offer consolation to the ruined sand-castle, they only wait until they can destroy it again.

#anon writing #neuvillette brainrot #──⚝🗽 anon #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #yandere genshin imagines #fontaine #yandere genshin #neuvillette x you

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ratridingaskateboard · 1 month

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Tear You Apart

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader!

TW: 18+, wet dream, p in v, cursing, bdsm, sexual acts, sexual fantasies, etc.

A/N: The trigger warnings would be too long if I mentioned every sexual act ever done in this story. We would be here all day!!

Synopsis: Eddie has had a crush on Y/n since the day she stepped foot into Hawkins High School. After constantly fantasizing about her, will fantasy finally become a reality?

The second Y/n waltzed her way into the main hall of Hawkins High, Eddie was awe-struck. She was clad in a bleached jean jacket capped in patches and pins of metal and rock bands. Many of them Eddie hadn’t even heard of. The Black Sabbath t-shirt she wore had been ripped to shreds, showing only a tanktop underneath. Her plaid red skirt swayed as she walked and had boys and girls anticipating for a gush of wind to reveal what was hidden under that scanty piece of clothing. To no one’s surprise, within minutes of walking in she was quickly pulled into the principal’s office for dress code violations.

The hall had erupted into gossip over who this mystery girl was. No one at Hawkins had a single clue who she was or why she chose their school to be graced with her presence. Eddie had never seen anyone like her in Hawkins, if he had he would’ve known. Just seeing what she was wearing made the blood rush to his cheeks but the second he saw her patched covered jacket he was practically on his knees.

This was his chance to finally get with a girl who he shared similar interests with. Don’t get him wrong, Eddie loved getting laid no matter what type of girl it was. But most girls had little to no interest in Eddie, they just wanted to see what it was like to fuck the school freak. They didn’t complain but they didn’t speak about it either. He was, to put it simply, a conquest. Now he had the ability to be around someone who, he hoped, wouldn’t shun him away like the others.

Eddie’s friends gathered around him at his locker, passing comments about the new girl and her clothing.

“God- I hope they don’t give her a pair of pants to wear.” Gareth hissed under his breath.

“I think I saw her bra underneath her shirt” Jeff added.

“The second you guys see a girl you are like dogs! I am surrounded by barbarians!” Dustin was quick to be the voice of reason. It was hard for teenage boys to view any girl as a person much less a girl who showed a little skin.

“You’re right Dustin. Did you see her jacket? It was covered in Metal patches. She seems cool.” Eddie finally added.

“Sorry Eddie- I was a little busy looking at other pieces of clothing she was wearing.” Gareth said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. One of the things Wayne had taught Eddie once he had reached puberty was to be a gentleman. Apparently, Gareth was not given this pep talk. Obviously, Eddie was attracted to her but he had to push down the want to tear her clothes off in order to form a relationship with her.

Hours had passed and she was still no where to be seen. Eddie assumed the principal must have sent her home with the list of violations she had achieved on the first 15 minutes she was inside the school.

Lunch was no different than usual except for the extra chatter of the mysterious new girl and her fondness for revealing clothing. Eddie pushed the food around on his lunch tray, disgusted by the unknown meat with the rancid smell.

“Hey-“ A gentle hand pressed against Eddie’s shoulder. The smell of cigarettes and vanilla filled his nostrils. Eddie looked up to see his friends wide eyed, staring at this unknown figure behind him.

“I like your Dio patch. That’s my favorite album by them.”

Eddie moved his neck to look at her but he found himself too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. Instead, his eyes focused on the jacket she wore, naming each band in his head- trying to get his mind off the absolute fool he was making of himself.

Shit, her hand was still on his shoulder. His face turned to a shade of red he didn’t believe was possible to achieve unless in scorching hot weather.

“Don’t mean to be an asshole but your sewing isn’t the best.” She traced a line with her finger against the trim of the patch. Eddie could still feel the softness of her fingertips even through the denim of jacket and cotton of his shift. Suddenly, Eddie felt the warmth of her breath against his ear.

“If you ever need someone to teach you, I would love to.”

Her hand moved back to his shoulder and lightly squeezed it, sending spikes of electricity through his spine. Then, she was gone.

Eddie’s face remained just as red as before. His fellow Hellfire members tried to help him regain consciousness but Eddie remained silent. He was stunned. He had never felt so weak. She toyed with him and he didn’t even fight back. He had never felt so powerless. In most situations he had had with girls, he was the one who approached and the one who lead. But, she… she was different.

“Eddie, dude, you should probably go to the bathroom.” Jeff patted Eddie’s shoulder, finally getting his attention.

Eddie looked down to find his dick as stiff as a board in his pants. Jesus Christ, he needed to get his shit together. This girl was messing with his fucking head.

After a moment in the bathroom, Eddie was able to go about his day as normally as he could. He still stumbled whenever he thought of the softness of her hand or the smell of her perfume. But as long as he didn’t see her he was fine. Right?

After Hellfire, Eddie returned to the trailer he shared with his Uncle and plopped himself on his bed. God- was he exhausted. Didn’t know being teased by a girl would make him so tired. His eyes fluttered closed and he gave in.

“E-Eddie please,” Y/n wimpered, looking up at him with big doe eyes, her hands restrained behind her back.

“Please what?” Eddie persisted, his leg pushing in between her thighs, feeling the warmth of her.

“P-Please fuck me!” She huffed, grinding her hips against his thigh. She seemed so helpless now. Her dominance was subdued by him and she had become a mess of herself.

“How much do you want it?” Eddie whispered in her ear, her perfume smelled even stronger when he was this close to her neck.

“I-I want it so bad, Eddie! Please I’m begging you!” She wailed.

He loved seeing her like this. Fuck, it made him feel like he was gonna cum in his pants. He couldn’t make her wait any longer and neither could he.

He started to reach his hand under her shirt when-

He woke up. It was a dream. It was a fucking dream. And one thing he knew about dreams like these, they always end the same.

Eddie lifted his comforter to find his boxers covered with jizz as well as the sheets underneath him. Eddie’s face crumpled into a frown. He had to get her back for this.

A/N: Dont worry there will be a part two coming soon!!! Hope u enjoyed

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #Spotify

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sepherinaspoppies · 5 months

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whatever may come - dark! aemond targaryen x servant reader

summary: aemond punishes his maidservant after catching her talking to a stableboy. he, however, will not recognize the consequences to his actions later on.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, noncon, dubcon, oral m receiving, cum play?, p in v sex, rough sex, possessiveness, degradation. I think that's it?

wc: 2,700

series masterlist

my masterlist

notes: lol this was inspired by a tiktok edit?? anyways I think this is dark? I apologize if this sounds like crap, I ruined my sleep schedule for this?? haha

byka līve: little whore

She silenced her whimpers to the best of her ability, her lower lip caught between her teeth so tightly that she could taste the metallic drops of her blood as the man above her painfully gripped the very roots of her hair jerking her trembling body away from his lap to the stone cold floor.

She looked up through her eyelashes as she watched him correct her posture to his liking like a mere doll, the same ones she would watch him play with in the privacy of his sister’s chambers whenever she did her maid duties.

After he had settled her into her knees, she immediately let out a sigh of relief as that burn waved itself away to solace. She continued to look at him, back and forth between his lone violet eye and his sparkling sapphire that only seemed to strangely glow whenever she was present. His expression was unreadable from the previous austere one where moments ago he remorselessly and brutally, to be quite clear, hit multiple blows against her bottom, making her count each and every single one without tears in her eyes. She never knew how to count, but Aemond made sure to teach her with each hit upwards to twenty.

She knew Aemond was angry and he had every right to be. Earlier on the day as he was training with his mother’s knight, Criston Cole, out in the outer yard when he spotted his favorite maidservant blushing and laughing with a plainly featured stableboy as his dirty little fingers swept back a piece of loose hair out of her face.

Never once did Aemond ever see his maidservant smile that brightly before much less directed towards him. And she had no reason to whatsoever. His presence did not bring her joy or an ounce of merriment, it was much the opposite of that. So why did Aemond believe that he deserved a little smile when all he ever did was defile, break and use her all whilst making her cry in the end?

There was only one reason a low born male like him smiled that way and Aemond shunned those ill fitting thoughts out of his mind for he did not want to think of another man touching his maidservant.

She was his and his only, no one else’s. And she’d do well to remember that.

“Undress me, byka līve” Aemond demands, speaking the last two phrases in his ancestral language. Never knowing what they meant, if they were expressed appreciatively or aimed in an appraising matter.

Deep down she had an inkling that they were not.

She blinked, hesitantly bringing herself up from the floor. Just as she began to unfasten his black leather doublet, her hair was tugged yet again before her knees were bent back down against the stone.

She winced, carefully not to make any sound.

“No, byka līve, not there. Here—” His fingers threaded her hair more tightly, pressing her face flat against his pelvis. She could feel the swellness of his cock across her face, where the base of his manhood started nudging at the bottom of her chin and where the pulsating tip pressed a little above her eyes.

But what astonished her the most was the small wet patch that amplified the smell of his sex. Surely, this was not what she thought it was.

There was only one way to find out.

The one eyed prince released his tight grip on the roots of her hair. She wondered that by the end of the night, after he was done with her if there would be any hair left. Her hair was the only thing she liked about her appearance, the smooth texture with hidden silver highlights.

“Look at me while you undress me”

With a shaky breath, she nodded as her hands moved to unlace his breeches, tugging down just below where his stones ended until the garment pooled at his feet. A part of her felt grateful it was him she was looking and not his throbbing parts.

Aemond was determined to peak again, seeing his red faced maidservant so obedient and frightened before him. It almost made him want to reward her with either his fingers or tongue or mayhaps both.

But she wasn’t here for a reward. She was unbefitting for such a thing. It was because of her whore like behavior akin to the sordid ones in the Silk of Street that filthy stableboy had his eyes already set on her.

And he can not have that happening.

Without further warning, she feels two of his fingers ruthlessly being shoved at the back of her throat. He gives her no time to settle what he was doing to her as his long digits begin to pump in and out of her at an outrageous pace that involuntarily makes her eyes produce tears.

Above her, she hears her prince hum with a dark look in his eye that sends shivers down her spine. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, it was wrong. This act, along with the various ones from previous nights and mayhaps the forthcoming ones, were suitable for a married woman and her husband. Not a prince and his maidservant. She stood to gain nothing from this.

“This mouth is mine” Aemond breathlessly whispered as his fingers curled in a come hither motion, her lips kissing his knuckles. At his words, she lets out a series of sobs loud enough for Aemond to tug her head back in distaste.

“What? Do you have something to say in the matter? Do you not think you belong to me?”

She shut her eyes, flinching at the sonority of his voice, thinking by doing that he would go away dissatisfied and search for someone to take her place.

But her silence only seemed to anger him more.

“Fucking answer me, byka līve!” he yells close to her ear.

For the first time since her counting, she spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-y-yes, Your Grace”

“Yes what? Hmm?”

She gasps and opens her eyes feeling her prince’s fingers twist and pinch her covered hard nipple, “I’m- I’m yours, my prince”

“You don’t sound so convinced that you are, byka līve” he licks his lips before tutting. Such a sound made her feel alarmed and more frightened. “Do I need to remind you, again?” Aemond asks, bringing his hand to his manhood.

As familiarized as she was with his nakedness, she could not help to invite herself to look at all of him. Centimeters close to her face, stood his very erect cock, thick and heavy as she saw last, skin pulled back to reveal his needy red tip with mix remnants of arousal and spend.

It brought her shame and disgust the way her core seemed to long and yearn for the fullness he brought upon her.

Aemond, frustrated in her lack of words, taps the tip of his cock on her bottom lip before he shoves his way into her warm mouth. He could feel his maidservant whine uncomfortably from only taking half of him. Fucking weak whore. Aemond cursed to himself. He knew she could take more, she had done so before.

“Fuck”

Her chest heaves rapidly trying to keep her air supply to the best she can and opening her mouth wider to make it easier for her to suit his thickness since it had been a while since his cock rested around her lips. Her prince, as of late, preferred to be inside her walls in all the hours of the day and night. In that order.

Once the one eyed prince was certain her mouth had accommodated his size, he took no more time yanking her head down sheathing every inch to the back of her throat, sighing in pleasure.

The vibrations of her whimpers spurred Aemond on as his hips started to thrust in and out of her lips, slowly at first to enjoy the soft ridges that her throat had to offer and her tongue. Seven Hells, her tongue instinctively raising up whenever his tip rested there for a second, making him forget the reason why he was doing this in the first place. Her punishment.

“Are–you…fuck– starting to fucking remember who you b-belong to, byka līve? Hmm?” Aemond asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out.

“Y-yes” she forces out through the tightness of her throat, trails of drool escaping the corners of her mouth. Aemond darkly laughs and moans at her response as his hips hasten their speed, chasing his nearing peak.

“Good girl” he coos, his eye looking down at her flushed face. “My good sweet girl” —thrust— “I’m going to cum on your face” (a/n: listen to this tiktok if you want to hear him say it lol xD okay byeee)

She has no time to react as she feels hot ropes of his seed spurting all across her face. From her eyes to her cheeks and lips she feels it all.

She hears her prince groan, as he pumps his cock faster feeling his second release coming again.

And this time she knew to tilt her away to not get any more on her eyes or her hair. She heard stories from other maids that a man’s seed would knot into hair, making it impossible to get rid of. She didn’t know if it was true or not but she did not want to take her chances.

“Just as I was beginning to think to reward you” He hissed, pulling her to stand. She whimpers, her head hot and spinning from getting up too fast.

The raged prince spins his maidservant around, using the dagger Cole gifted him for his fourteenth nameday to rip through her night shift right below the dimples of her arse. The temperature of his chambers, which wasn’t too cold nor warm, caused the little hairs around on her body to raise.

She tried to cover her bareness with her hands, whatever could fit on her palms. Since the beginning of their coupling, Aemond commanded her that she was to keep her shift on, only slightly raised to her hips. Not that she had any complaints, but it made her truly wonder why he’d be bare and not her.

“This” Aemond cups her soaked mound, “Cunt is mine. Mine only to fuck and to do whatever I please. It’s not some filthy– dolt stableboy’s” He growls next to her.

She parts open her lips at the realization that he was the heated gaze she felt on her back when she was discussing with Linus at the outer yard. She should have known her prince would be there training every morning like he always was. But it must have slipped her mind somehow.

Aemond scowls, “I saw you, byka līve. Saw you speaking to him and letting him touch you. Saw him leave your room”

She doesn’t get the chance to reply; to tell him that what he saw was not what it looked like. But her tongue was caught between her teeth before he roughly drags her body to slightly bend her over by his dressing mirror, giving himself a few vigorous pumps as he watches his proud work dripping on his pretty maidservant’s face.

“Please, my prince. It isn’t…oh!” Feeling him enter in one sharp thrust deep, she gasps at the sudden fullness. There wasn’t any part of her that was empty, her cunt felt so deliciously stuffed to the brim.

“It isn’t what? Are you telling me that my eye deceived me?” He asks in a strain voice, trying to hold his authority over her whilst controlling his sounds of pleasure. “Did I or did I not see you fucking laughing with him or—Seven Hells—letting his dirty little fingers touch you? Must I remind you it is a grave offense to lie to your prince, byka līve?”

White hot pleasure runs deep inside her belly as his thrusts quicken to get an answer from her yet she struggles to keep her composure. “N-no, my prince, Linus came t-t-to meee. He said I had a ladybug on my hair and—” she rolls her head back to rest on his shoulder feeling her peak coming closer and closer. “Said I was pretty b-but, my prince—”

Wanting to hear no more of this, Aemond stopped his movements, much to his dismay, wrapping his hand around her throat so tightly she knew it would bruise like the other times he took her from the same exact position.

“Oh, he called you pretty did he? I wonder what he’ll think now with my spend on your face”

Fear and embarrassment wormed itself to her body. She did not want anyone to see her this way, exposed, bare, and being fucked by the prince of the Queen’s second eldest son. Soon enough when the time came when she was no longer useful to him, she thought about lying to her future husband–if she ever met one worthy of taking her far away from King’s Landing–persuading him she was still pure, not touched by a possessive prince.

“No please, my prince” She protested as Aemond grabbed the small little bell that was used to call in a Kingsguard.

He ignored her pleas not even attempting to hide her nakedness or her pearly white soaked face as Ser Arryk walked into the chamber being instructed to bring Linus from the stables.

“Hush, byka līve” He cooed behind her, repositioning his cock back into her entrance. Any moment longer, he felt like his cock would explode from another release being denied. “Now, I might not let him in but only if you do not hide your sounds”

She nods to the vigorous deep thrusts Aemond sets in, feeling more of her slick dripping down her thighs, aiding to the heavy slapping sound of their sex coming as one. She arched her back against Aemond’s chest, releasing mixes of intense pants and moans, gazing at the way Aemond’s face scrunches from bliss through the mirror.

“Give it to me” Aemond groans, feeling his maidservant’s cunt flutter and clench around him. A sign that her peak was forthcoming. He snakes his hand down to her bud and curses loudly at how wet she was.

She is a whore. Aemond thinks as he circles the bundle of nerves.

At this, she gives Aemond a series of loud cries that she knew would be heard throughout the Keep. And in the morrow the castle would be surrounded with heavy gossip of who the lewd sounds belonged to and who caused them.

“Gods, fuck!”

Aemond smiled through the mirror, fucking her through her peak until he too began to yell out in ecstasy. His seed spilling deep into her womb.

After their breaths settled, two loud knocks followed by the voice of Ser Arryk caused her to look at her prince in panic, hoping he’d dismiss them since she did what he asked her to do.

“Come,” Aemond loudly announced, grabbing a cup of Pentoshi wine from his dinner table, ignoring the sobbing pleas from his maidservant.

She tried to back away, desperately needing to shield herself away but that only caused the silver prince to tut and shake his head as a warning.

The door shut loudly behind Linus as he came into the chambers, slowly and unsure why he was being called into the Prince’s chambers at this hour when he should be sleeping.

“Linus, is it?” Aemond questioned, even though he knew the answer.

Linus averts his gaze from the Prince’s nakedness, and nods. “Y-yes, my prince, if it pleases you”

“Well, Linus. I am in need of your opinion, and I want you to be honest with me. Do you think that she looks glorious—pretty even, with my cum on her face?”

She can not bring herself to look at the red headed man she considered a friend, knowing that the loud silence lingering around confirmed that he did not find her pretty like he had called her, hours ago.

In fact, no one would ever find her pretty now. She was ruined and now a whore, like her mother had been when she too was seduced by a prince.

a/n: if requested ill release two parts of this (one when aemond meets her and another for what happens next lol)

taglist: @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @fullmoonworshipper @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @kittendoll05

bold is who I couldn't tag!

if you wish to be tagged in my general taglist go here!

#aemond targaryen #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #aemond x reader #one shot #maybe??#aemond targaryen x oc #lol I need sleep its 8am #ewan mitchell #prince aemond #Spotify

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jose92gt · 1 year

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Me pregunto si en una futura entrega de KOF si Shun Ei e Isla harán equipo, recordando el final de sus equipos Shun se fue con Meitenkun a los Estados Unidos para seguir mejorando e Isla por su parte diría que se quedó sin equipo tanto como Dolores y Heidern seguirán por su lado con ellos formo en esta entrega de KOF XV, Isla al final le término por agradar a Shun se mostró un poco más amable, ya que Shun logró evitar que Otoma raga absorbiera, ambos son portadores del espectro amplificado, Isla tuvo un viaje a China con tal de tal vez de encontrar a Shun Ei ya que el es originario de ahí, además espero también que se hable más de el poder ee ambos no quede todo en el olvido en si

#kof xv #shun ei #isla

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jkflay · 1 year

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Pages 1 - 5 of my KOF AU Comic

#fan comic #fan art #digital fanart #kof xv #kof #terry bogard #rock howard #shun ei #meitenkun #kof isla #benimaru nikaido #kof dolores #king of fighters

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

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Ok vampire hunter!König is hot but how about vampire!Engel with vampire!König who seduced and turned her?

König is the meanest vampire there is.

He never lets his angel become an independent, strong creature of the night; instead, he keeps her in his tower and “teaches” her, telling her she must never venture out because the world is a dangerous place and mortals are more cunning than she can even imagine, and Engel, poor fresh young fledgling that she is, just looks up at him wide-eyed and lips drawn into a thin line and believes everything he says.

And so there’s really no one to tell her that König is shunned by all the other vampires: he has a reputation, he’s more feral than any of them and always keeps to himself, never comes to the balls or burdens himself with the need to charm anyone or even dress properly, he’s like a relic from the past when vampires had to scour their meal from wherever they could get it, filthy docks or poor cottages in the hills, bothering lowly peasants whose blood tastes like dung. König lives in a time of war even though there’s peace now, and plenty of good blood to feast on, he has even killed some of his own – Engel really doesn’t know the full depth of the trouble she’s in... She couldn’t have bumped into a more unfit, berserk, depraved sire.

He always picks her meal for her: always fragile, meek women, dragged to the tower screaming and pale and filled with fear and horror: and he doesn’t even let her feed alone because he likes to watch. No one tells her that this isn’t supposed to happen: that a lamia’s meal is a sacred ritual, it's between her and the sacrificial lamb, and it's also a moment when a vampire is at her most vulnerable... But no: König watches her like a mortal would watch pornography or an obscene play, and Engel thinks it’s perfectly normal, she just wants to please her master, as difficult and hard as it is to do so at times.

And sometimes she feels this odd yearning – she was such a cute, well-behaved mortal, she had her whole life ahead of her, she never did anything wrong, and she never asked to be turned... (yes Engel keep telling yourself that) She just wanted to talk to this mysterious highwayman who walked her home when she got lost in the woods, who gave her the most intense hand-kiss she had ever received and after that, left her a blood-red rose on her windowsill every night... And now she finds herself here, in this ungodly tower with a monster – a monster she hopelessly loves and adores.

Sometimes the need to feed grows too strong and she floats down the stairs, helpless and weak, only to be met with König’s imperious form as he opens the heavy oak door and immediately catches on to what’s going on. His heavenly angel was about to disobey him; clearly, she doesn’t yet understand the danger she’s in (in truth König is getting pale even at the thought of her finding some other mentor, were Engel to leave him he would crawl into his coffin and never come out again).

So into the coffin she goes, without breakfast, and has to stay there alone until he's sharpened his knives. Only when dawn is already about to break, only after the sturdy old pine box echoes with her pitiful little whimpers, König finally joins her, gathers Engel in his arms, asks her if she has learned her lesson now, hmm? She must understand that this is for her own good: he’s just ensuring that nothing bad happens to her. After all, she's his responsibility; it was fated that they met. She’s exactly where she belongs; she has nothing to fear.

Then he feeds her himself: another taboo and a perverse act of him, and even sicker than anyone could ever imagine because König pushes them both to their limits, getting lewd pleasure out of Engel drinking from him until he's near the point of going into rigor mortis, groaning that she needs to stop (secretly wishing she wouldn’t… Not just yet…)

And König never tells her that their kind is supposed to sleep in their own coffins for a variety of reasons. He allows her to sleep in his, never even gets her her own, getting sick satisfaction from the way she curls up and clings to him like a pathetic, helpless human.

The only things he gets her are stunning, gorgeously large white dresses: pompous and flowy and frilly and so heavy she can’t possibly even dream of escaping while wearing those. The only time there’s a slightly more benevolent look in those piercing cold blue eyes is when Engel laughs and spins around in them, fresh blood on her lips, eyes outshining all the night stars...

She’s truly the most innocent, beautiful creature he has ever seen. He almost feels… what was it that mortals called it?

Ah, yes. Love.

#yandere könig #supernatural au #vampire au #vampire!König #könig x reader #yandere vampire #tw: dark content

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months

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How America's oligarchs lull us with the be-your-own-boss fairy tale

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#sell-job

Capitalism is a vibes-based system. Sure, we all know about Keynes's "Animal Spirits" that see "bulls" and "bears" vying to set the market's future, but beyond that, there's just a hell of a lot of narrative.

Writing for The American Prospect, Adam M Lowenstein reviews two books that tell the histories of the stories that are used to sell American capitalism to the American people – the stories that turn workers into "temporarily embarrassed millionaires":

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-02-16-stories-corporations-tell-williams-waterhouse-review/

The first of these books is Taming the Octopus: The Long Battle for the Soul of the Corporation, by Kyle Edward Williams, a kind of pre-history of "woke capitalism":

https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393867237

Taming is a history of the low-water marks for Big Business's reputation in America, and how each was overcome through PR campaigns that declared a turning point in which business leaders would pursue the common good, even at the expense of their shareholders' interests.

The story starts in the 1950s, when DuPont and other massive firms had gained a well-deserved reputation as rapacious profit-generation machines that "alienated workers and pushed around small businessmen, investors, and consumers." This prompted DuPont's PR chief, Harold Brayman, to write a memo called "The Attack on Bigness," where he set out a plan to sell America on a new cuddly image for corporate giants.

For Brayman, the problem was that corporate execs were too shy about telling their social inferiors about all the good that businesses did for them: "The businessman is normally reluctant to talk out loud. He frequently shuns the spotlight and is content with plugging his wares, not himself."

This was the starting gun for a charm offensive by American big business that included IBM president Thomas Watson Jr ("I think there is a world market for about five computers") going on a speaking tour organized by McKinsey & Co, where he told audiences that his company's billion dollar annual profits had convinced it to assume "responsibilities for the broader public welfare."

This set the template for a nationwide mania of "business statesmanship" that Fortune celebrated with an editorial announcing "a great transformation, of which the world as a whole is as yet unaware" that put the "profit motive…on its last leg."

Fortune then spent the next seventy years recycling this announcement, every time the tide went out on business's popularity. In 2019, Fortune platformed IBM president Ginni Rometty for an announcement that the company was orienting its priorities to the public good: "It’s a question of whether society trusts you or not. We need society to accept what it is that we do."

The occasion for Rometty's quote was a special package on the Trump tax-cuts, a trillion-dollar gift to American big business, which lobbyists for the Business Roundtable celebrated with an announcement that American capitalism would now serve "stakeholders" (not just shareholders). Fortune celebrated this "change" as "fundamental and profound."

Fast forward five years and corporate leaders are still telling stories, this time about "stakeholder capitalism" and "ESG" – the dread "woke capitalism" that has right-wing swivel-eyed loons running around, hair afire, declaring the end of capitalism.

For Williams and Lowenstein (and me), all this ESG, DEI, and responsible capitalism is just window dressing, a distraction to keep the pitchforks and torches in people's closets, and to keep the guillotines in their packaging. The right-wing is doing a mirror-world version of liberals who freak out when OpenAI claims to have built a machine that will pauperize every worker – assuming that a PR pitch is the gospel truth, and then repeating it in criticism. Criti-hype, in other words:

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Think of ESG: the right is freaking out that ESG is harming shareholders by leaving hydrocarbons in the ground to appease climate-addled greenies. The reality is that ESG is barely disguised greenwashing, and it's fully compatible with burning every critter that died in the Mesozoic, Cenozoic, and lo, even the Paleozoic:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/15/sanctions-financing/#profiteers

The reason this tactic is so successful is that Americans have also been sold another narrative: that American problems are solved by American individuals as entrepreneurs and businesspeople, not as polities or as members of a union (let alone the working class!).

This is the subject of the second book Lowenstein reviews, One Day I’ll Work for Myself: The Dream and Delusion That Conquered America, by Benjamin Waterhouse:

https://wwnorton.com/books/one-day-ill-work-for-myself/

A keystone of American narrative capitalism is the idea that the USA is a nation of small businesspeople, Jeffersonian yeoman farmsteaders of the US economy. But even a cursory examination shows that the country is ruled – economically and politically – by very large firms.

Uber sells itself as a way to be your own boss ("No shifts. No boss. No limits.") – even though it's a system where the app is your boss, and thanks to that layer of misdirection, Uber gets to be the worst conceivable boss, while its workers have no recourse in labor law:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

In labor fights, Uber represents itself as the champion of innumerable "small businesspeople" who drive its unlicensed taxis. In consumer protection fights, Amazon claims to be fighting for "small businesspeople" who sell on its platform. In privacy fights, Facebook claims to represent "small businesspeople" who buy its surveillance advertising.

But large firms are actively hostile to small firms, seeing them as small-fry to be rooked or destroyed (recall that when Amazon targeted small publishers for bankruptcy-level discounts, they called the program "The Gazelle Project" and Bezos told his executives to tackle these firms "the way a cheetah pursues a sickly gazelle").

Decades of this tale have produced "a profound shift from a shared belief that individuals might come together to solve problems, into a collective faith in individual effort." America's long love-affair with rugged individualism was weaponized in the 1970s by corporations seeking to shed their regulatory obligation to workers, customers, and the environment.

As with Big Tech today, the big business lobby held up mom-and-pop businesses as the true beneficiaries of deregulation, even as they knifed these firms. A telling anecdote comes from someone who worked for the Chamber of Commerce's magazine Nation's Business: when this editor pointed out that many of the magazine's subscribers were small businesspeople and asked if they could start including articles relevant to mom-and-pops, the editor in chief said, "Over my dead body."

The neoliberal era has been an unbroken string of platitudes celebrating the small business and policies that annihilate their chances against large firms. Ronald Reagan's dewy-eyed hymns to American entrepreneurship sounded nice, but what matters is that he attempted to abolish the Small Business Administration and refused to address the 20,000 attendee "White House Conference on Small Business."

In the years since, American has sacrificed its small businesses while pulling out all the stops – bailouts and tax cuts and elite bankruptcy – to keep its largest firms growing. New regulations like Dodd-Frank were neutered in the name of saving mom-and-pop shops, even though the provisions that were cut already exempted small businesses.

Today, millions of Americans are treading water in a fetid stew of LLC-poisoning, rise-and-grind, multi-level-marketing, dropshipping and gig-work, convinced that the only way to get a better life is to pull themselves up by their bootstraps:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/10/declaration-of-interdependence/

Narrative does a lot of work here. The American economy runs on bubbles, another form of narrative capitalism. Take AI, a subject I sincerely wish I could stop hearing about, not least because I'm certain that 99% of that thinking is being wasted on whatever residue remains after the bubble pops:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

AI isn't going to do your job, but its narrative may convince your boss to fire you and replace you with a bot that can't do your job. Like what happened when Air Canada hired a chatbot to answer customer inquiries and it started making shit up about bereavement discounts that the company later claimed it didn't have to honor:

https://bc.ctvnews.ca/air-canada-s-chatbot-gave-a-b-c-man-the-wrong-information-now-the-airline-has-to-pay-for-the-mistake-1.6769454

This story's been all over the news for the past couple of days, but so far as I've seen, no one has pointed out the seemingly obvious inference that this chatbot probably ripped off lots of people. The victim here was extraordinarily persistent, chasing a refund for 10 weeks and then going to the regulator. This guy is a six-sigma self-advocate – which implies a whole bell-curve's worth of comparatively normal people who just ate the shit-sandwich Air Canada fed them.

The reason AI is a winning proposition for Air Canada isn't that it can do a customer service rep's job – it can't. But the AI is a layer of indirection – like the app that is the true boss of Uber drivers – that lets Air Canada demoralize the customers it steals from into walking away from their losses.

Nevertheless, the narrative that AI Will Change Everything Forever is powerful – more powerful than AI itself, that's for sure. Take this Bloomberg headline: "Nearly all wealth gained by world's rich this year comes from AI":

https://www.business-standard.com/world-news/nearly-all-wealth-gained-by-world-s-rich-this-year-comes-from-ai-124021600006_1.html

Dig in and you find even more narrative. The single largest beneficiary of AI stock gains last year was Mark Zuckerberg ($161B!). Zuck is American Narrative Capitalism's greatest practitioner: the guy who made billions peddling a series of lies, from "pivot to video" to "metaverse," leaping from one lie to the next just ahead of the mass stock-selloffs that wiped out lesser predators.

The Narrative Capitalism Cinematic Universe has a lot of side-plots like AI and entrepreneurship and woke capitalism, but its main narrative arc was articulated, ad nauseum, by Margaret Thatcher: "There is no alternative." This is the most important part of the story, the part that says it literally can't be otherwise. The only way to organize society is through markets, and the only way to organize markets is to leave them alone, no matter how much suffering they cause.

This is a baffling story, because it's so easily disproved. Zuck says the only way to have friends is to let him surveil you from asshole to appetite, even though he once ran Facebook as the privacy-forward alternative to MySpace, and promised never to spy on you:

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876

Likewise, the business leaders – and their chorus of dutiful Renfields – who insist that monopoly is the natural and inevitable outcome of any market economy just handwave away the decades during which anti-monopoly enforcement actually kept most businesses from getting too big to fail and too big to jail.

I'm no champion of market efficiency – especially not as the best and final arbiter of social and economic questions – but when I hear my comrades repeating the Thatcherite claims that all forms of capitalism necessarily degrade into monopolistic quagmires, that there is no alternative, it sounds like more criti-hype.

This is a frequent point of departure during discussions of enshittification: some people dismiss the whole idea of enshittification as "just capitalism." But we had decades of digital services that either didn't degrade, or, when they did, were replaced by superior competitors with a minimum of switching costs for users who migrated from the decaying incumbent to greener pastures.

The reality is that while there are problems with all forms of capitalism, there are different kinds of capitalist problems, and some forms of capitalism are less harmful to working people and more capable of enacting and enforcing sound policy than others.

Enshittification is what happens when the constraints on the worst impulses of companies and their investors and managers are removed. When a company doesn't have competitors, when it can capture its regulators to trample our rights with impunity, when it can enlist those regulators to shut down would-be competitors who might free us from its "walled garden," and when it can fire any worker who refuses to enact harm upon the users they serve, then that company will enshittify:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A company can be made to treat you well, even if it is run by a wicked person who sees you as a mark to be fleeced – that mustache twirler just has to be constrained – by competition, regulation, self-help and labor. He may still hate you and wish you harm, but he won't be able to act on it.

As MLK said:

It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, religion and education will have to do that, but it can restrain him from lynching me. And I think that's pretty important also. And so that while legislation may not change the hearts of men, it does change the habits of men. And we see this every day.

#pluralistic #narrative capitalism #oligarchy #temporarily embarrassed millionaires #late-stage capitalism #enshittification #disenshittification #vocational awe #fobazi ettarh #ai #bubbles #bubblenomics #rise and grind #Benjamin C. Waterhouse #One Day I’ll Work for Myself #Kyle Edward Williams #Taming the Octopus #woke capitalism #llcs with mfas

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