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lunarwritesthings · 1 year

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Thou Shall Not Touch What is Mine

Paring: Jeff Hardy x Gn!Reader

Fandom: Wwe

Request: Yes, by anon

Summary: Jeff gets jealous about someone talking and touching HIS baby.

Prompt: #15 "I don't fucking care. You're supposed to be mine."

Note: This takes place in the late 90s/early 2000s it fits best with people's characters. The reader is also Christian's younger sibling. There's a twist towards the end

Jeff was not one to be anything but nice to people. It's how he was raised to be. However, those feelings flew out the window when it happened. What is it? Well, "it" is when he sees someone touching and talking to HIS baby in a way he knows is meant to be flirty or so he thinks.

Now, who's Jeff's baby? Well, that's simple baby Cage aka you. You were called baby Cage due to being the younger sibling of one Christian Cage. Anyways you are the most important person to Jeff. You are his best achievement. He never thought he'd get you to date him when you are more attractive and way out of his range, at least those were his words. Of course, that was something you and Jeff would argue about when brought up since neither of you could agree.

You have never seen Jeff get jealous so you believed he wasn't the kind of person that got jealous but that changed. To you, the conversation you were having with Edge was normal and common for your friendship but Jeff didn't know this. Jeff thought Edge was flirting with you. How? by the sly smirk on Edge's face and the way, his hand was resting on your arm.

This made Jeff feel something he hasn't felt in a long time. Jealousy. Let's just say jealous Jeff is actually likely to fight someone. Now Jeff tried to stay calm. He watched you and Edge, well more Edge than you. The glare on his face was obvious to anyone who could see.

Now Jeff could walk over to you and Edge and make it clear that you two are together but there's one small problem with that. You and Jeff hadn't gone public so he couldn't. Except Jeff had a plan. Once better than just going over to you. Let's just say Jeff's plan was definitely going to get him yelled at by you.

Jeff walked to the gorilla and told the people there to play his music. They knew something was going to happen so they did. Jeff went out and straight to the ring and gestured for a mic. Once he got one he looked around for a minute before starting a rant about certain things. One of those was people flirting with you but he didn't directly mention you. Regardless of his feelings, he was going to try his hardest and keep the relationship private.

Matt and Christian ran to where you and Edge were once they saw what Jeff was doing. Matt was the first one to say anything. He didn't say much just "Jeff is in the ring, go stop him before he says too much." Christian grabbed Edge and pulled him out of earshot so they could talk, but that was not important.

Just like Jeff, you quickly went to the gorilla and told them to play your music but you didn't even wait. Once you walked out from backstage you immediately ran to the ring. The announcers and the fans were confused about what was going on. The first thing you say since coming out was "Jeff what is this all about?" Jeff wanted to say the truth but knew if he did then he was going to be in a lot of trouble. Jeff thought about what to say and decided to just say fuck it and deal with getting yelled at back stage.

Jeff was about to answer a lot of questions just by saying what he has been thinking. Jeff looks you directly in the eyes, the anger and jealousy being clear in his, and said "I don't fucking care. You're supposed to be mine." It all made sense now. Jeff was ranting about Edge being flirty with you and his anger about the situation with saying any names, the fans also figured this out. Looks like the cat is out of the bag.

Before you could say anything Edge and Christian came out with smiles that looked like they belong to Chester the cat. Jeff was confused but you knew what was about to happen. Edge was the first to say anything but it was directed to Christian "Well, would you look at that? Our plan worked." Christian nodded and turned his attention to you and Jeff.

"Little sib, did you really think you and him were doing a good job at hiding your relationship? Well, dear sib it was very obvious to anyone with a brain and two eyes. Maybe next time don't stare and drool over each other every time you're in a room filled with people." It was clear by his smile it was meant in a teasing way.

The two waved then turned and went backstage leaving you and a very embarrassed Jeff in the ring. You quickly got Jeff's attention and then rushed up the ramp and backstage. Jeff refused to look anywhere but at the floor. Of course, waiting behind the curtain were Christian and Edge looking at you and Jeff.

This time Christian spoke "I don't care that you two are together, I just would appreciate being told that my little sib is in a relationship with someone I trust. Just don't make me regret it Hardy." Jeff finally looked up and at Christian "I won't. I don't plan on doing anything to hurt them." That made Christian and told him what he needed to know.

Edge and Christian shared a look, silently communicating about something. At times like this, you believed they could communicate telepathically, but less than a minute later Edge looked at Jeff and shocked him "Oh by the way you don't have to worry about me taking little Cage from you. I've had my eye on a different cage for a while now and that isn't going to change."

With that Christian and Edge turned and headed for their locker room. Jeff looked at you and summed up his and your feelings "Don't get me wrong your brother and Edge are cool but I think they did go a little crazy". You had to agree with him. You and Jeff just decided to spend the rest of the day relaxing after explaining a little about the situation that happened in the ring, but at the end of the day everyone was happy and that's what mattered.

#wwe imagine #jeff hardy x reader #jeff hardy #jeff hardy imagine #The reader is Christian's younger sibling #Edge and Christian dating is hinting at

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bllk-after-dark · 1 year

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ARCHANGEL.

an angel of greater than ordinary rank.

pairing. michael kaiser x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, heavy christian mythology/theology, sex on sacred ground (church), kaiser is the archangel michael, reader is an altar server, sex on altar, loss of virginity, fingering, missionary & doggy style, not proofread/edited

summary. you've been serving in the st. michael church for many years, a simple duty in your life and yet you pray to him, the patron of the church you serve. and one day, heavenly flesh made mortal, he stands in front of you and asks for a serving.

word count. 3.9k

fallen angel. masterlist

Altar serving was something you do every sunday. Not because you loved it, that has passed a long time ago, when you were still a kid in awe, but because it was a duty and at this point, part of your routine. It was part of your life, born into a christian family that went to church every sunday. Your father has been an altar server too, long before they allowed girls to serve, and now your younger siblings were too. It was tradition, and tradition was not meant to be broken.

You were one of the eldest in the group, guiding the younger ones through their service, whispering their tasks during the mass. Having almost ten years of altar serving under your belt, you were not only allowed to help prepare and teach the new generation, but also assist the acolyte every sunday.

And while you may not love altar serving, it still brought you peace being here, in the church that has been named after the Archangel Michael. Saint Michael Church, a relatively big one for the small number of people in your commune. An old one too, with the ceilings filled with paintings with angels, but especially Archangel Michael. In fact, this church was the only one with paintings of angels who had other wing colors than white in your country.

This attracted some tourists, but the church was never overrun. It was a shame, then you often let your gaze wander during your servings, with your back straight and hands on your lap, taking in the Archangel Michael with his flaming sword, long blonde hair that takes the color of the sky at the tips and the feathers of his wings ruffled, blood and dirt sprinkled across them, but it could never hide the true beauty of his wings. Even the statues had wings that span at least two meters, and their tips, just like his hair, dipped in blue. Here and there was a golden feather found, as if someone had dripped molten gold on the wings.

Yes, the art in the church you served was unusual but truly beautiful. You may not believe in the Holy Father, not like your parents did, but you did find peace here. Maybe it was the sheer presence the angel radiated in his own church, maybe it was because you had so many memories here, practically grown up with him gazing down at you, but you liked it here.

You may no longer love the altar serving like you did as a child, but you still loved to stand here on holy ground, where only the priest and other servers were allowed, so near to the altar, so near to him. It made you feel special, maybe just for an hour, where you stood in a white robe, bringing bread and wine before the Archangel Michael. One of the statues was on the altar, taking more than half of the sacred table, leaving just enough space for the bible and the communion to be placed. It was a true artwork, just like all the other statues and paintings in the church, but the artist paid special attention to this one.

It was unknown why it stood here, when normally only a holy cross would be placed, but the statue has always been here and no one dared to change its place. You didn’t mind, because most sundays you could take in every detail of the artwork, sitting near to the altar.

And like many sundays in the past and possibly in the future, you’re the one helping cleaning up. Blowing out the candles, collecting the left behind songbooks and of course cleaning up after your fellow altar servers.

Yet unlike other sundays, you’re alone. The acolyte had to leave early, very apologetic but still asking you to finish everything up. You couldn’t deny her request, fully knowing how stressful her private life was with her family. And so you start doing all the task, a bit slower than usual now that you’re alone.

Cleaning up and tidying the altar is the last thing on your list and then you could finally go home. You watch your steps, carrying the bucket with wine first, then followed by all the other things you had to lock in the safe, since they’re made out of gold. In the end, you would put a big white clothing over the statue, preventing the light and dust from damaging the artwork. But you aren’t that far yet, still carrying bowls until the communion cup is left.

A gasp left your lips and the cup fell out of your hands, the sound of its impact on the marble floor ringing in your ears. Wings ruffled, feathers shifted and suddenly he looked at you. The statue made flesh. Archangel Michael.

He was kneeling on the altar, a white robe clinging on his frame, no sword or armor in sight, while his wings started to unfold themselves. So pretty, you could only think. The occasional golden feather almost glowing in the candle light, silver ones shimmering, white feathers almost blinding you but it was the blue ones that held your focus.

A chuckle ripped you out of the trance you were, enchanted by the beauty of the wings- real wings. He was grinning at you, eyes lit up in delight and a grin spreading on his lips.

“Little mortal, I see you’re serving on Holy Grounds named after mine,” he says, voice oh so angelic but also raspy, as if a mere whisper. But he speaks so clearly, his words ringing in your ears and you blink, shake your head, trying to get rid of- what is happening?

“I- I am… your Holiness,” you try. You don’t know how to address him, no one has ever told you how to address an angel. But he just shakes his head, another chuckle escaping his mouth and slips off the altar. He’s barefoot, you realize and he strides over to you, the end of his wings dragging over the floor. They seem heavy, you realize and as if he heard your thoughts (maybe he did, he is an angel after all, can they read the minds of mortals-) his right wing stretches first and the left one soon follows, and so you end up staring at the pair of wings, looming over you and showing hints of the true might Archangel Michael owns.

“You have no need for this, my devotee,” and your heart skips a few beats, eyes going wide when he calls you his devotee. Never have you thought of yourself as one, but now he utters those words, how can you deny it?

“I wish for you to call me Michael, it is my given name after all.” You can only nod and he seems satisfied by that. He stops a few steps in front of you, so near but so far away. Your brain tries to progress the situation, try to understand what your eyes see, but it’s your body that reacts in the end.

You sink on your knees, hands clasped in front of your chest and you bow your head.

“I am not worthy,” you murmur, because you aren’t. You do not believe in god, you do not pray to him, all your prayers, if you ever pray, go to him, to the Archangel Michael. “I am not worthy to see you, your- Michael. I am not worthy to be in your presence, I am-” The words stop and you press your eyes shut. A hand on your cheek makes you snap them open again, not being able to stop the gasp that leaves your mouth.

“Oh, but you are, little devotee of mine. You who are the only one who truly serves me, ever since she was a young girl. You are the most worthy of all.” He kneels in front of you, and still, he towers over your frame, his wings frozen in movement. At this moment, he looks so angelic and sinful at the same time. You shudder at your thoughts, suddenly infesting your mind, spreading and creating pictures in front of your eyes.

The ruffle of feathers makes you snap out of those filthy thoughts, eyes going wide when he pulls you closer, practically lifting you up. You’re frozen in his arms and can only watch in silence how his wings curl around the both of you.

“There is also no need for you to kneel,” he rasps right next to your ear and you shudder, suddenly aware of your hands placed on his half-nacked chest. “A follower so loyal… is allowed to stand in my presence.” But before you can answer him, before you can ask him all the questions you have, he sneaks his arm around your waist and pulls you even closer. A sudden gasp escapes your lips once more and you tremble in his arms, when he suddenly lets his hands wander to your neck.

“A follower so beautiful… little one, will you do me one more service?” He asks this as if you have the choice to refuse him. So you nod, thinking he will ask you to bring bread and wine, or to proclaim your belief in him.

But then he tilts your chin up and you stare at his beautiful blue eyes, enhanced by his long lashes and eyeliner. Who would’ve thought angels have eyeliner, you think hysterically, yet your thoughts go silent, when he presses his lips against yours. You don’t react, your whole body frozen as the angel continues to kiss you. And then the arm around your waist pulls you even closer, bodies pressed against each other and his wings curling tighter against the two of you.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you lean onto him, your arms circling around his neck. Your fingers brush over feathers and he moans against your lips, so sweet and sinful. And then- and then you finally return his desperate kiss, his tongue sneaking into your mouth, and you lose yourself. The simple soft kiss turns into something filthy, with your panting and his soft noises and oh what noises he makes. Small gasps, choked moans, all because he’s kissing you. You, nothing more but an altar server, nothing more than a mortal. Leaning closer, you let your lips move against his, inexperienced but it doesn’t matter. Not when he lowly groans or when you pant against his lips, trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe it. A man kissing and touching you, for the first time in your life-

“Allow me, devotee of mine. Allow me to see your naked skin, allow me to taste your flesh, allow me to feel your love,” he rasps, close to begging, eyes oh so pleading and you can’t deny him. You would never deny him and if it’s his wish to see, to taste and feel you, then you will strip naked, spread your legs and love him with all your heart and soul.

“Michael,” you whisper, close to his lips and press yourself closer to him. “Michael, take and use me to your wishes, and my heart will listen. I will love you, with mind, heart and soul, and only you.” His pupils are blown wide when you whisper your oath, binding your whole life and soul to him. You don’t even realize what you’ve done, but he does. He feels it, down to his core, the oath you gave to him, on his sacred ground. It makes his essence soar, his wings flutter and his cock harden.

A squeak escapes your lips, when he lifts you up, marching over to the altar and lays you down, all while he drapes his body over you, wings unfolded and feathers gleaming in the candle light. His breath fans over your face and your eyes widen, when he slowly crawls on the holy table.

“Michael, shouldn’t we-,” you try to ask him, mind no longer clouded by his kisses but he just slams his lips on yours again and you forget your protests. Throwing your arms around him, your hands start to wander, hesitant at first to touch his bare skin. He grinds his hips against yours in response and he finally lets you breathe. Only now do you realize that he’s propping himself up on his arms, when he starts touching you with one hand as well. You shiver when he touches you below your shirt, riding up the fabric while he continues to ravish you. Moans leave your lips and you lift your legs to wrap them around his waist, trying to keep him close.

Canting your hips up, you grind onto him but it’s not enough. A whine escapes your lips, you want him closer, you want to touch all of him, you want him in you.

“Normally I am someone who is patient, but for you,” Michael starts to speak, voice raspy next to your neck, where he has pressed kisses and bites on your sensitive skin. “I want to take you, here on this holy table, here in my church and I will.” He rips your shirt off first, fabric flying off without resistance and you gulp at his casual show of strength. His eyes fixate on your simple bra, hiding your tits from him.

Michael looks feral to you, wings shifting every second, pupils blown wide but completely focused on you and your body below him. He doesn’t hesitate and rips off your bra, completely ignoring the fact he could simply open it and latches immediately on your right tit, sucking on your nipples and gently pulling on the other.

You gasp and moan at the new sensations, skin feverish and hot, while you bury a hand in his blond locks. He bites you and you tug his hair, making him groan while you beg for more. It’s new, it’s different, it’s filthy and dangerous, lying on the altar of the church you serve in, half naked while the Archangel Michael leaves his marks on your skin.

If anyone could see you right now… you and your whole family would lose face in the community. Even more than that. But you didn’t care, only caring about Michael’s hands and lips on your body, feeling him and his body and-

He suddenly kneels up, your own legs still between his, over you and shrugs off his white robe, revealing his whole form to you. Your eyes widen and you blush when he takes his cock in his hand without shame, slowly stroking it and watching you with half lidded eyes. His wings are once again spread and they flutter, when you sit up and place your hands on his thighs all while claiming his lips. Curiously, you start kneading his muscles, letting your hands wander until you can finally pull him closer. But he has other plans for you, sneaking his own hands to your waist and lifting you up, only to turn and seat you on his lap. He vanishes your last clothes as well, leaving you naked against him.

A pant leaves your mouth when he stretches his body over yours again, rutting his hips against yours, his cock against your pussy, making you gasp when he spreads your wetness and even touches your clit.

“Oh lord,” he groans close to your neck, lips ghosting over your skin once again and you feel so overwhelmed, overwhelmed with his presence, his touch-

“Michael,” you moan, a desperate sob bubbling out when his cock continues to rub against your pussy and not in you. “Please,” you start to beg. “Please, take me- Michael, have me, I’m ready, please-” and you are. Ready and open for him, your untouched and virgin body ready to have him but he just doesn’t take you. Tears spill in your eyes, frustration filling your mind and your body, but he just slowly continues to caress your body, hands wandering until his fingers dip into your pussy.

You cling onto him, nails ranking down his body, and you beg. You beg and plead, but he ignores you, humming when his fingers finally enter your pussy and start massaging your warm walls. It’s not really new to you, you’ve touched yourself several times, always in the darkness of your room, but it never brought you to an orgasm.

Yet Michael’s fingers make your cunt tingle, your thighs shake when his movements become faster and your moans louder. And when his thumb presses on your clit, you shriek, and start rutting against his hand. “More,” you pant, cheeks flushed and your legs spreading even more, so close-

He claims your lips, mouth parting and tongues dancing, while he presses another finger into you. With a gasp you remove your lips from his, eyes closing in ecstasy and head falling back. Another press of his thumb and a bite into your neck has you shrieking again, cumming for the first time in your life, on the fingers of Michael.

“What a darling you are,” he grumbles lowly, licking your reddened juices from his fingers while you try to blink the stars in your sight away. You whine his name, when he doesn’t touch you again and only stares at you. “You’re such a pretty creature, all for me and for me only.” He leans closer, his mouth almost kissing yours but only brushing against it.

“To think I was the first to ever touch you like this… oh, little devotee of mine, you’ve pleased me so well and you don’t even know it.” His words make you whimper, or maybe even his teasing lips that don’t kiss you. In the end he does, making you taste yourself and you can’t help but moan.

“Can you please- please, in me?” you try to ask, suddenly shy in actually voicing your desires. Getting fucked on an altar, what was wrong with you-

Head thrown back again, mouth wide open in a silent scream and he’s suddenly in you. Cock already moving, slowly but surely working into you, more and more. You just cling onto him, gasps leaving your lips and babbled pleas.

His hips move slowly first, so you could get used to his insane size, but it doesn’t take long until he pistons into you, driving hard and fast, and you can only hold onto him, legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

You can feel yourself getting close again, your voice echoing in the empty church and- his wings fluttering above you. Oh god, his wings. The feathers were ruffled, chaotic and they seemed to spasm, every time you clenched around him.

“Beloved mine, look at me,” he says to you, but you don’t hear him, so close to your orgasm and eyes fixated on his wings.

“I said,” he suddenly spat, voice ringing in your ears, “look at me.” The feral look in his eyes, his widened pupils and wings looming over you make you cum again. Your whole body shakes, all while you scream his name.

Instead of letting you rest, he grabs your right leg and hoists it over his shoulder, picking his pace up and chasing his own orgasm. You beg him to stop, oversensitive to a point where it’s almost hurting, your hands scrambling for anything to hold yourself but he doesn’t listen, doesn’t stop, fucking you stupid.

Tears start pooling in your eyes and your whimpers and moans turn into sobs. Michael is a monster, for fucking you so hard, fucking you so good, destroying you and your pussy. You don’t know if you want him to stop or not, want him to continue until you cum again or let your poor, aching pussy rest.

He doesn’t let you rest at all, only leaves your pussy for mere seconds, to turn your body on your stomach and you try to pick yourself up, but your limbs are weak. In the end it’s him who picks you up, hands on your waist, planting you on your knees and hands, only to drive into you again.

The hard material of the altar already makes your knees ache, but you forget about the pain as Michael fucks into you again. It’s fast and hard, punching the air out of your lungs and leaves you moaning and crying for more. Tears are running down your cheeks, and you have to lower your arms, now leaning on your elbows. You beg for him to finally let you cum, you beg for him to cum, to touch you, to hold you and he gives you all that, if not more.

Draping himself over you, he whispers praise into your ear and you shudder, when his fingers find your clit again.

“One more, my devotee. Just one more, for me. Come for me, my beloved.” Hearing his praise, calling you beloved, calling you his and the fact he’s still fucking you, paired with his circling fingers has you cry out and cum with a shudder.

Your legs shake, your whole body seems to quiver, but he holds you strong and steady, only to follow you. His hips pressing onto yours, he fills you up and you can hear the rustling feathers over you, while swears and praise fall from his swollen lips.

Thrusting into you with his slowly softening dick, he draws some last whimpers out of you. It’s soft, how he turns you in his arms and keeps you close, his one wing draping over the both of you and hiding you from the world. He presses kisses on your front, cheeks and nose, leaving your lips for the last. Hands wander over your sweaty body and you blush under his half lidded gaze, suddenly ashamed of your nudity.

“There is no need for that, devotee of mine. You’ve taken me, and this well.” His voice suddenly drops. “You’ve taken me so well and you will take me again. And again and again.” His words make your eyes go wide and suddenly, you realize what exactly happened.

You just fucked someone on an altar. In a church. You got fucked by an angel, by Archangel Michael himself, on a freaking altar. You got ravished and stolen of your innocence– Michael took your virginity, here in a church and you had sex.

You can feel his cum dripping out of you, slowly running down and you press your legs together. Why did you suddenly want to make sure no drop of his cum would leave your pussy? Why did you have the sudden desire to-

But Michael doesn’t seem to realize your dilemma, still peppering kisses on your skin and face, absolutely blissful in the afterglow.

“I apologize for being so harsh but my desires got the better of me,” he suddenly speaks up again, completely ignoring his previous words. “Yet… will you allow me to take you again?” Seeing your surprised look, he chuckles and gives you a small peck on the lips.

“Not today, I shall let you rest,” he assures you, as if he just didn’t completely destroy you. But you didn’t care. The promise of another fucking, of another time like that, where he made you scream and cry, makes you shudder. You snuggle closer to him, wiggling your body against his, while the altar uncomfortably presses against your other side. Yet you don’t care, not when you’re being held by the most gorgeous man in the world, an angel and maybe… someone you would learn to love.

But that is something to worry about in the future. Now you enjoyed his fleeting touches, listening and blushing to his praise, oh his praise, and the warmth of the wing that acted like a blanket.

taglist. @scftbunni , @kaiser-samaa , @mikeysonlywhore , @dervaaas , @mi-kage , @yumik00001 , @miraculouscorazone

if you wish to join the taglist for this series, please send this blog a message/ask or comment below the masterpost! all other applications for joining the taglist will be ignored.

anne. woo, i finally posted it. i'm so glad i have this monstrosity finally out and no longer in my drafts... already fearing the next part. dunno why i'm doing this to myself but then i think about angel!kaiser and i no longer question my sanity. enjoy!

#blue lock smut #michael kaiser x female reader #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser smut #bllk michael kaiser #bllk smut #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x reader #fallen angel — the series

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thesupreme316 · 9 months

Note

This is most likely to be the weirdest things i’ve requested,

Picture,Being Hook’s twin or older sister. At the past Blood and Guts, Reader is at ringside with her brother during JB match. Then when Jack turns, she sides with Jack.

The following Wednesday, when Her and Jack are now teaming together, the promo goes on.

After Jack says

“I’m still young, I’m cashing fat checks and i’m still banging the hottest bitch in this place”

Clearing referencing to reader, then reader goes on saying something like how she should be the FTW champion since she’s older and has had more in-ring matches that follow FTW rules( I like to think that the FTW title can go to any gender), Then when hook goes to chase Jack, just after jack jumps over the barricade reader and Hook are standing toe-to-toe, allowing Jack to get away safely.

I’ll leave the rest to you, Much love

YOU'RE FINEE

Had it Coming (Hook x Sis!Reader, Jack Perry x Fem!Reader):

Word Count: 1.3K

Supreme Speaks: hiii, thank you to @hookerforhook for the request (i miss your requests so much). I really enjoyed writing this one. If yall want more, you know what to do. please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: none i think, is primarily angsty

Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @cassie0sstuff @sheinthatfandom

Okay imma reference this post real quick in a way

You have been dating Jack for six months…so before he got into a tag team with your younger brother, Hook

Jack developed feelings for you after you decided to help him in his feud with Christian Cage (my sugar daddy)

You and Hook have the typical sibling relationship…you love him even when you fight sometimes

You’ve been through a lot together, shared a lot of interests, and you considered him to be your best friend

But right now you’re starting to tolerate him

And recently you started to grow a dislike for him

It’s not his personality or anything

It’s just the fact that even though you have won more championships, been wrestling longer, and literally helped trained the lil booger

He just managed to push you into his shadow from the crowd and your father

It pissed you off

Especially because it’s coming at the expense of you and Jack’s career

Your and Jack’s achievements started to get overlooked and Hook either hasn’t realized or he’s pretending it doesn’t exist

It’s been pissing you off

It’s been pissing Jack off

The constant comparisons, the forgetting his name, the fact people just seemed to forget about Jack

It’s just tiring

And it all leads to Jack turning on Hook at Blood and Guts

As well as you turning on your younger brother as well

Honestly, he had it coming.

That’s what you’re telling yourself.

For three days, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

It felt great turning your back on your brother. But, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel like there was a way to avoid all of this. As well as feeling like you’re in the middle between your brother and boyfriend. But the more that you thought about it, the more Jack would argue it’s what he deserved for pushing you away, for overshadowing you, for not thanking you, for forgetting about you, and most importantly allowing the crowd to look over you.

You deserve better. You deserve more.

Especially after how he made you and your boyfriend feel.

This leads to today, Wednesday, you and Jack were talking to the crowd about your actions. Before you could even get a word out, they started to boo you, loudly. At first, you felt small, like an ant. But the more they booed, the angrier you got and the more you tuned them out. They didn’t understand you, they couldn’t understand you. They didn’t know how you felt, yet you were portrayed as the villain.

Jack’s booming voice brought you out of thought, “I’m still young. I’m still cashing fat checks, and I am still banging the hottest bitch in this entire place.” He said making the crowd applaud as you smiled with a blush appearing on your cheeks. He leaned over a kissed your head. “Now, did we turn on Hook or did everyone turn on us? After all, we’ve done, after everything that we have given to this place and being robbed out of championships, do you expect some entitled, second-generation little prick to dangle his unofficial championship in our faces? A championship that is just like you Hook, a fraud. Unlike your authentic, legitimate, charming, and hot sister.”

Jack gently gave you the mic as the mix of applause and boos poured in. You rolled your eyes at the crowd as you began to talk, “And come to think of it, I should be the FTW champion.” The crowd booed at your statement. “Think about it! I have more in-ring experience, I’ve actually had FTW championship-worthy matches, and I was at one point your role model, little brother. The only reason why I haven’t challenged you is because Dad is protecting your ass. Cause he knows, that in one match I would take your championship, break your bones, and break your heart.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I am the uncrowned FTW Champion. It’s only a matter of time until I get my hands on it and make you pay for all the pain I’ve endured cause I’m the victim here, not you! But soon you will be once I send you to the ICU.” You continued, making the crowd gasp and clap at your words.

You gave the mic back to Jack, “And just for the record, we can hear you all very clearly. You all telling us that we messed up, that Hook’s gonna kill us. Hook, let me tell you something right now, when I get my hands on you, I am going to beat-“

He was cut off by Hook’s theme, making you roll your eyes and Jack’s color drain from his face as your brother emerged from the black stage. You could see his angry face from a mile away, his eyes were filled with rage. As he ran to the ring, Jack slid out of the ring, jumping over the barricade.

Hook slid into the ring to come face-to-face with you, making the crowd stand up in suspense. His eyes kind of softened as he gazed into yours; you could see his eyes go from angry to hurt. He didn’t understand why everything had to escalate to this point. He moved to continue chasing Jack, but you moved in the same direction; shaking your head at him.

You gave your younger brother a dropkick that stunned him. He just laid in the ring. He wasn’t going to get up to fight you, you knew that, he would never fight you, not even when y’all were kids, he never fought you. Maybe it was the respect and love he held for you…or it was fear. Whatever it was, it allowed you to do your finishing move before going to the back.

He deserved it.

Grabbing your bags, you walked to the parking garage, looking for Jack. Then, a voice called out to you.

“That was some show you put on, Princess.” You looked in the direction of the voice, shocked at who it belonged to. You slightly groaned at the person as they exited their vehicle.

“Christian, what do you want?”

“A conversation.” He said with a smile, walking closer to you with Luchasuarus behind him. “Maybe, a little more if I can convince you of it. Where’s your lover boy?”

You know that you’re not supposed to be talking to your boyfriend’s former mentor, but his tone and the conversation thus far intrigued you. “He’s on his way.” You said with confidence.

“No, he’s not princess. He’s long gone, jumped into his truck, and drove off without any stops.” Christian said with a mocking sad face. “That’s no way to treat someone, especially one person that he claims to love.”

“He does love me-“

“Why isn’t he here then?” You were quiet in response, not sure of what to say. “Y/N, you deserve better in multiple ways. I’ll cut straight to the chase. I have a proposition for you, a very beneficial proposition for both of us. But I don’t wanna conduct business with a pretty lady in a dirty garage. Let me, I mean us, take you to your hotel or somewhere to eat, and we can talk.”

Your brain was in the middle as you knew that anything with Christian Cage was bad news. And you don’t wanna disrespect Jack.

But then again, your boyfriend wasn’t around to take you back to your hotel room, you guys really had no plans after turning on Hook besides trying to take his championship (but you didn’t know how really), and you were hungry. Also, there’s no doubt that your brother was hunting you down so the two of you could talk, so you needed to leave now. Technically, it was a winning situation for you.

There was no harm in talking, right?

“Fine Cage, but no funny business.” You said. Christian smiled before telling Luchasuarus to get your bags, which he put in the trunk. Christian opened the door for you and helped you into the truck.

And if there is harm, it’ll catch up to you tomorrow.

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fun-k-board · 11 months

Note

Hey are reqeust still opened if not sorry to bother you but if they are

can you do a child rocky x child reader? (The reader has a younger sister in this) fluff to angst to fluff

It's basically how rocky met reader and their sister as kids and then one day reader and their sister have to move (you can decide why if you want) and rocky gets sad by this but they meet again as adults working together at lackadaisy

(Hope this isn't too much)

Pronouns used : None

Note(s) :

Of course! I'm not too sure what you wanted the sister to do when they're older, or just narrative wise? I didn't have any ideas, my bad.

Rocky was never a calm person, mind and body always running faster than anybody could keep up with, especially in his youth. While his aunt was a ferice and true Christian woman, someone who practically haunted his dreams, at least she didn't have a gun. It was times like this, where he, his cousin and miss pepper where behind a van being shot at, he missed the older times. Even if they were boring and filled with church.

Although, that wasn't because he missed her per say, it was more for two young siblings he met when he was younger himself. They were his best friends and most trusted companions, besides Freckle of course, and had met in his opinion, the best of circumstances.

Not at church, not doing something nice for either of them, instead, Rocky had shoved pancakes on either of his arms, creating sleeves of some kind. Syrup covered him and he was a complete mess. He was running away from a shouting auntie and managed to get lost, at a house away from his own in a forest. It wasn't well kept at all.

There he found two kids the same age as him, they didn't look like locals, strange clothes for this weather and they didn't seem to be playing, just standing out their house. When they both noticed him, the younger of the two quietly laughed and pointed not so discreetly at the pancakes lining his arms.

"He looks silly!" She whispered, staring at him like he was some strange creature and pulling on the older ones clothes.

"Hello! It's nice to meet you!" The eldest, you, outstretched a hand, he noted both of your ways of saying words was weird, but also not. Like you two were pretending to have an accent. Rocky grinned. It was clear you're all going to best friends from that moment, because he thought so. He thrust his hand forward and shook your own aggressively.

"Name's Rocky! Your name my-" He paused, then cartoonishly put his hands on his hips "-dearest neighbour?"

"My name is (F/N), This is-" You, jumping in shock as your younger sister yanked on your fur to push herself in front of you.

"(S/N)!" She happily grinned, giggling and absent minded. Tail swishing happily as she looked up at the older boy, he could swear she reminded him of himself in some way.

Every few days you'd all meet up, he even brought Freckle on some days, but as the days passed, and even months flew by, he began to notice how different you both seemed from the first meeting. (S/N) seemed more quiet as they met more, unable to run and laugh as she once could, and you were more protective, less adventurous and too busy helping your sister walk to speak to Rocky.

Until one day you both stopped coming all together.

He waited an hour each day for a month just to see you two again, Freckle stayed even after that, but even then you still wouldn't come back. They both banged on the door, yelling for you, yet the inside was always still, even less taken care of than before. You had both left. And he denied it for so long, but he realised as he grew why. Rocky at first believed you to have left because you both hated him, you both lost interest in your friendship and simply didn't want to be around him anymore.

But he noticed the signs, he knew the truth, (S/N) was sick, deathly so, she couldn't breathe and instead sat down on most days, even you seemed more sickly. Yet both of you were determined to at least see him and his cousin.

He tried to convince himself you just left for a doctor, but no doctor takes that long, he knew you both most likely died from some illness you weren't used to. With how you both spoke, you weren't from here, and you couldn't resist disease here. It weighed on him, how he didn't confront you about it, to at least confirm his suspicions.

And now, in gunfire and feeling his consciousness drain, it all felt fuzzy, familiar, warm. He wanted to go back and see you both again, one of the highlights of his youth, but also one of the most horrifying parts.

Rocky's eyes snapped open, he was shoved onto a couch like a sack of dirt, the force knocking some air from him and causing spurts of coughs and croaky mumbles of confusion. His vision was blurred and he felt like he drank an entire bottle of alcohol, but he could make a shape from all the chaos. It was speaking, and sounded angry, he noticed what he assumed to be Viktor leaving and slamming the door behind him, that's when the shape drew closer.

It held his hand, it was fuzzy... He noticed the accent, it was familiar. Then came the hug, you're warm. He wanted to reach out and hug you back, but not only did it hurt to breathe, he guessed he understood how you felt back then, but he realised you were wrapping something around him, not hugging him.

Black dots crowded his vision, and the next thing he knew he felt fabric on his chest different from his shirt, itchy and medical. Rocky grimaced and gripped the sofa cushion uncomfortably digging into his side, wanting it all to be over, he loved the job, just not this part. He felt himself fade away once again.

It took so much from you to not force him awake, but you waited, you had waited before for years, what was a few more hours? Your thoughts raced and you felt like sobbing, your sister had begun helping other injured within the Lackadaisy staff before she left for the night, believing he wouldn't wake until morning, yet it still didn't persuade you to leave his side.

Not even after the night ended and you had wasted precious time, you could've helped others with your sister, but all you could think of was him. Was he the same? You didn't know, and a part of you wanted to leave and never see him again, he could hate you for leaving, you never explained why, and he couldn't understand so young. Rocky was your friend, and you hope he still is.

The light began pouring into the room, your tired and aching eyes didn't notice the twitching, your sleepy head not processing the pained grunts from your patient, until he whispered your name.

Your ears perked up, suddenly more alert than they'd ever been in your life, your eyes widened and pulse quickened. He shifted from his position on the couch, before his back was laid flat, now he was turned slightly to look at you, luckily off his injured side.

"Rocky?..." You questioned quietly, smiling brightly and gently moving a hand forward to his coat, peeking underneath to see the blood seeping through had dried, you whispered for him to sit up slowly if he could. Coughing, he did so, wincing in pain and scratching a cushion that rubbed against the injury.

You began wrapping the new bandages around his side, leaning in close to do so, he took the opportunity and hugged you tightly, you almost thought he was planning to remove your spine with the force he pressed against you.

"I missed you too! Please let go-"

#rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy rocky #Lackadaisy #Lackadaisy x reader #Lackadaisy Rocky x reader #Rocky x reader #Lackadaisy gn reader #Lackadaisy gender neutral reader #Lackadaisy x gn reader #Lackadaisy x gender neutral reader #rocky x gn reader #rocky rickaby x gn reader #rocky rickaby #lackadaisy rocky rickaby

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picklebunbun · 3 months

Text

mark heathcliff + sibling! Reader

🝮

-------------- ߷۞ꧮ☦︎︎ꧮ۞߷------------

hc or oneshot/series?: headcannons

gn reader, you/yours pronouns

mark heathcliff + sibking reader

genre: angst angst angst angst, but fluff to sweeten it a bit too

romantic/platonic? : platonic

fandom: TMC

cw: religious themes {christianity}, mentions of sewerslide, obvious mentions of de@th

{angel’s note🪽: mark is literally my fav character, also, keep in mind that the reader is heavily implied to be YOUNGER}

~~~

scenario:

ok so, Mark wanted you to live with him since he felt you’d be safer that way

not that he didn’t also want Sarah to go with him, it’s just that he had other things to do

but anyways, you live in a small house with him in the Mandela County, so that should be fun

~~~

actual hc:

when the news popped up that these creatures named “alternates“ were showing up, Mark thought it was a way to get people scared, like how the news always does

but, he started to get worried from the missing person reports that were happening more and more frequently

you were confused by this sudden change in attitude, you saw your brother get completely engulfed in paranoia more and more each day

he was constantly worried for sarah’s saftey, calling her every second to see if she was okay

and he was even more worried about you, he’d tell you to always lock EVERYTHING and to be aware

this really scared you, seeing Mark so manic made you suspenful of his health

he wasn’t even properly taking care of himself, not taking the time to give himself basic hygiene or even eat

there were times were you had to beg him to eat or sleep. Crying on the floor and asking him to sleep for just an hour

you always overhear him pray every night, telling god to at least save you and to watch over you

even though there were these really depressing moments, there was also very sweet ones

Mark would make pancakes for you for special mornings {all he really know how to make tbh}

depending on if you’re younger, Mark would read bed-time stories to you, to help you calm down and take a breather

he genuinely loves you, Mark tries to say that every day so you don’t feel like a burden

you mostly spend time in his room, Mark tries to keep you close at all times, leaving his sight would make him get a heart-attack

it all changed when Mark got that call from Cesar

right after he came home he told you to pack your bags because you couldn’t stay there

he said that you were going to sarah’s

you could tell he was dead serious from his expression and how quickly he said it

after that night though

you never saw him again .. it was until you heard that he shot himself that you heard about him

~~~

#Spotify #angst #fluff #headcanons #platonic #platonic relationships #platonic reader #mark heathcliff #mark heathcliff x reader #the mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue x reader

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sulfurz · 10 months

Text

ೃ༄ TAP OUT (christian cage x reader)

ೃ༄ pairing: christian cage x fem!reader (ft. brother!edge)

ೃ༄ requested by: anon

Hi! Is there anyway I can request a Christian x Female!Reader one shot? Maybe she’s Adam’s younger sister and Christian’s girlfriend and she’s teaming with them against the Hardy’s and Lita and she ends up seriously injured and the boys are there with her the whole time taking care of her? Fluffy and angsty if possible please?

ೃ༄ warnings: light swearing, mentions of injury, inconsistent use of christian/jay and edge/adam

ೃ༄ word count: 2.1k

ೃ༄ note: hi anon!! i hope this is similar to what you wanted <3 i got off track with the hurt/comfort elements and the connection with jay hehe <3

the shout of the crowd was always the most exhilarating part of a match. standing against the turnbuckles, a perfect mirror image of lita on the other side of the ring, listening as your team partners worked the crowd from the ropes either side of you. it was your favourite part of the group you worked with, the dynamic which had your partners being the ones to act as your hype men, leaving you to revel in the energy before kicking off every match you began. it worked, and the crowd loved it, even if your positions were meant to be that of heel. it was hard to deny your popularity — no matter how much vince tried to push for the opposite.

if you glanced to your left, you’d see the man you loved bouncing so elegantly off of the mixed reaction from the crowd. it was hard to not spend your time staring at him, to keep your focus on intimidating the opponent when he just looked so good. but it was always worth it when you got the win.

even now, as christian jumped down from the middle rope, taking his place by your side and wasting no time in pressing his lips against yours, ignited by a holler of cheers from the crowd. they always ate up every moment the two of you showed your relationship on stage — and when they found out that relationship extended beyond storylines? well, your popularity skyrocketed.

what made it even more perfect was the perfect play from edge, rolling his eyes as he joined you by your right side. it was perfect really, the idea that your big brother hated your relationship but fought alongside you for the sake off the team — when in reality, adam loved the two of you together. sure, backstage his jokes never ceased, and you were more than often third wheeling with jay and adam as opposed to the other way around, but the in ring reactions he always had just added to your determination to prove yourself as a power couple.

the hardy siblings took their place by lita, jeff, unbeknownst to the crowd, sending a wink your way. and then the match was set.

the referee took his place, and amongst the crowd’s screams you could hear edge’s whisper of ‘let’s kick some ass’, coupled by one last squeeze of your hand from your boyfriend to your other side, before he launched into his signature pendulum kick to defend from matt hardy’s oncoming attack.

it was only up from there, elbow body shots all around, coupled with more than exhilarating special abilities you weren’t even aware your opponents had. no amount of fight calls could prepare you for some of the moves lita pulled on you, but you were always prepared with reversals when you got the chance. behind every move you could feel the crowd’s cheering thrumming in your veins, pushing you to get out of any compromising position to turn it around with your own abilities. you even attempted your brothers signature spear, knowing he’d rip you for it after the match.

at one point, christian managed to get jeff hardy with his killswitch, but the man, as planned, kicked out at the last second.

then, it all went wrong.

vaguely, you could see the hardy boyz and high impact battling it out in a series of moves you couldn’t pinpoint, as you were focused on defending yourself against lita’s own high power attacks.

as she went to performance her signature moonsault, the plan called for you to reverse her mid air, but as her body collided with yours, the sudden, piercing pain in your leg caused for you both to go tumbling to the floor. you hit the surface harder than expected, lita’s weight on top of you an added pressure as something twinged in all the wrong ways. she knew immediately what had happened, and quicker than expected the woman was playing it off but wasting no time in leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” she questioned in the privacy of just the both of you, face positioned in the crowds blind spot.

you nodded, expecting to be able to walk it off. as you rose to continue with the planned moves, the pain in your leg became unbearable, and before you had even stood to full attention, you were back down on the surface of the ring.

this time, lita wasn’t the only one to turn her attention to you. previously engaged in their own personal battles, christian was the first to react, immediately giving some sort of signal to his currently one of the brothers so that he could attend to your side. edge held up appearances, taking on both of the hardy brothers but you were sure they were all watching you from the side.

christian’s hands were on your waist, momentarily dulling the spiking pain from below your waist. “y/n? you okay?”

you went to nod your head, halt your boyfriends worries before they began, but the pain returned tenfold and all you could manage was a pained yell as you gripped at one of his forearms weaker than before. christian knew immediately, his unoccupied hand raising to your cheek as he tried shallowly to comfort you between pulses of pain. there were some words exchanged between him and lita, sounds you couldn’t quite make out amongst the ache, and then the referee was signalling with crossed arms for a time out.

finally, amongst keeping up appearances, your brother rushed to your side, no longer occupied by the hardy siblings. he was behind christian, just as worried but without knowing where you were hurt, not wanting to touch incase of causing further harm. christian was vaguely saying something to him in the background, but his hands were just as grounding before.

from the side of the ring, you could see the medics appear through the ropes, and even as they pushed everyone away, christian remained by your side.

somewhere in your peripheral, lita was explaining what happened to the medical professionals, but all you could focus on was your boyfriends soft whispers, shrouded by anxiety.

“can you move? can you sit up?” before you could even answer, christian was peppering you with concern again “you haven’t hurt your back right? shit — if you’ve hurt your back—“

you squeezed his arm before he could panic anymore. “i’m okay. my backs fine it’s just— my leg— i think i tore something—“

there was a gentle hand in your hair, brushing back strands whilst you lay until the medics shifted your leg, and you couldn’t help the guttural scream that left your throat. you were suddenly being shifted, your leg in the air as they put some strap to provide pressure, the pain unbearable until your head was being moved too. whilst they iced your muscle down the best they could, christian had moved until your head was placed gently on his thighs. hands caressing your hair and whatever inch of you he could reach in a pale but appreciated nonetheless.

“jay—“ you whined weakly, reaching your hand as far as it could go to tap his thigh. he was there on instant, tangling your fingers together and bringing his lips down to press a kiss to your knuckles. you could hear a cheer at the action, some concerned, some maybe convinced it was all part of it, but all you cared about right now was keeping your attention on christian. “it hurts.”

“i know. i know baby.” and he did better than anyone. you had been there by his side through more than one injury, and now it seemed it was time for him to do the same. one of the medics said something to him, and then christian was turning his attention back to you. “can you get up, sweetheart? i’ll help you.”

your attempt to nod was muffled by the awkward position you were in, but then christian was moving from under you until he could firmly grab at both of your hands. you tried to place your uninjured foot to pull you up, but it was to little avail, having to rely on your boyfriends strength alone to get you standing. the second you were back on your feet (or foot, considering your current predicament), edge was back by your side, and the boys took their positions under each of your arms.

a firm, yet caring hand on your bare stomach drew your attention to you brother.

“you still with us, champ?” he joked, pulling a weak smile of you as the two men helped you through the ropes.

you barely remembered the journey backstage, too busy thinking about the repercussions of whatever you had pulled — or worse, torn. but there was no need to worry about that now when your boys were on either side, attentive as ever to every need.

it brought you back to the time you received your first injury, nothing more than a dislocated shoulder shortly after your debut.

christian and you weren’t together back then, but it was certainly the beginning of something. you remembered sitting in the hospital, way past visiting hours, with a worried adam to your side, hand tightly gripping yours. jay was there too, refusing to leave despite his lack of full association to you. it was the first moment you realised how deeply he cared for you.

it was all very deja vu now, except this time, it was jay holding your hand in the medical room, with adam pacing back and forth like a mad man whilst you waited to be attended to. he was, if you even glanced for a moment, furious.

ignoring adam’s internal plight, jay lowered his voice, skin still clammy from adrenaline, but warn as you leant into him. “you were a beast out there, injury or not.” he emphasised his words with a kiss to your temple, pulling the briefest of smiles out of your anxious self.

“what happens now?” you whispered, the turmoil evident as ever in your voice. jay could only shrug, pressing another soft kiss to your temple before you adjusted your position so you could press your lips against his.

“whatever happens, we’ll be with you every step of the way, okay?” he rested his forehead against yours, revelling in the moment until the sound of your brother’s pacing pulled him out of the moment “adam, you ass, you’re worrying her more.”

adam turned to his best friend, fury evident on his face but features relaxing the moment you sent him a sympathetic look. “i’m just pissed, they should have been more prepared for something like this in such a high stakes match.”

“no one can predict it,” you empathised, leaning into jay’s side as you spoke “nothing was botched, i just clearly had my leg in the wrong position.”

“still! why is no one here attending to you? if you’ve torn your acl and they’re off gallivanting around—“

“adam.” jay spoke sternly, his hand not holding yours outstretched in a pause symbol.

glancing between the two of you, the harsh lines on adam’s forehead didn’t disappear until you outstretched your unoccupied arm to him. you could see the moment he battled with the internal angel and devil, before his face softened and he stepped towards you, taking your hand tightly in both of his and placing an extended kiss to the available skin.

you let yourself relax for a moment, head lolling against jay’s shoulder whilst your brother crouched down in front of you. your leg was still strapped from foot to thigh, no one wanting to take any chances, but you tried just for a moment to ignore what was to come and revel in the moment with your fellow company.

adam was in deep thought, allowing you just a moment of reprise in which you turned your head up to see jay already looking down at you. his brow was creased in concern, and you couldn’t help but release his hand to run your thumb along his temple, smoothing out the lines that had appeared. despite the circumstances, he offered you a soft smile.

“no matter what happens, i’m proud of you, you know that?” he spoke quietly, leaning into your touch as your hand rested against his cheek.

“i know.” you whispered in response. amongst everything, one thing you would never doubt was jay’s care for you, and the pride the man carried whenever he saw you in action. “i’ll be okay right?”

jay glanced in adam’s direction. you weren’t sure if the older of the two was looking, but there was an understanding that flashed across your boyfriends eyes before he turned back to face you. “as long as we’ve got each other, right?”

you smiled, lifting your lips to his in another soft kiss. “as long as we’ve got each other.”

a/n: thank you for such a cute request anon!! i always have fun writing any dynamic that involves jay/adam as they are my faves <3 i hope this at least somewhat did justice to your request!

#✍🏻 requests : anon #christian cage x reader #christian cage imagines #christian cage imagine #christian x reader #christian imagine #christian cage #edge imagines #edge x reader #wwe imagines #mentioned:#lita #jeff hardy #matt hardy

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pinto-bean-writes · 29 days

Text

Welcome Y'all :)

My name is Pinto! Some of you may know me as @sydaney-foxay, my personal blog! I'm a silly little author, I usually write original works in the genres of Dark Fantasy and Realistic FIction with hints of fluffy-angsty Romance sprinkled within! Though I do occassionally write Fanfiction and do take requests, but more on that later on!

Name: Pinto Bean Age: Minor Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Heteromantic & Ace Socials: Wattpad, AO3, Neobook Race/Ethnicity: Half Filipino, Half British Religion: Catholic ✝

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Any type of hate, racism, homophobia, transphobia, body shaming, abelism ect, are PROHIBITED and will NOT BE TOLERATED.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ No NSFW/Explicit asks or images/videos in the Ask or Submissions box. They will immediately be DELETED.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Anybody younger than 13 reading/engaging with this blog WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. (Mutuals are an exception to this rule.)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Any asks or submissions about politics are PROHIBITED and will be DELETED.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People older than 30 reading/engaging with this blog WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. (Family members, mutuals, and people granted personal permission are an exception to this rule.)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ If any work is marked "16+" please do take it upon yourself to make a responsible decision on wether to consume the piece of media or not.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ All trigger warnings will be mentioned, please do read those first and mind then when reading through a piece.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Anyone younger than 13. (Mutuals and family members are exempt from this rule)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Anyone older than 30. (Mutuals and family members are exempt from this rule)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ AI Art supporters.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Proshippers.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Homophobic, transphobic and fatphobic individuals.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People who have public ownership of explicit/18+ media blogs.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ This silly shart sniffer /silly

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People who showcase harmful/toxic behaviors and excuse it with religion (I.E: Toxic Christians, toxic Catholics)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Bots.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People who spread religious hate.

If any of these describe you I highly suggest getting off my blog and to not interact with it.

..............................Fanfiction............................

As I mentioned before, I do take requests! Now I do wanna start this off by saying:

I consider myself an ORIGINAL AUTHOR. I mostly write ORIGINAL WORKS. Though those take quite a long time to come out and sometimes I want to write but not focus on larger, original projects- so I take REQUESTS and write MY OWN fanfictions, but those are LOW on the priority list. I spend the majority of my time writing WORKING ON ORIGINAL WORK, so I do want to say FANFICTION REQUESTS MAY TAKE A WHILE TO GET SENT OUT. Due to this, I want to thank you all in advance for your patience and support!

Now; onto the fun stuff!

Fanfiction requests will usually take about 1 week to come out, due to my focus on original work and the fact my writing is usually very long and detailed. I write for a plethora of fandoms and even though fanfiction is not my main focus, I try to put as much love and care into my fanfics as I do my original work!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Hazbin Hotel 🔥

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Helluva Boss 👿

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Cuphead 🥤

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Camp Camp 🌲

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The Ghost and Molly McGee 👻

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Miss Peregrines Peculiar Children 🐣 (I have read all 6 books + watched the movie)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Stardew Valley 👩‍🌾

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sexy Brutale 🛌

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Court x Mort Saga 📚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I DO WRITE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Character x Character ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Character x Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Platonic Character x Character ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Platonic Character x Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sibling Character x Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sick comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Period/Menstruation comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sibling comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Headcanons ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Alternate timelines ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Alternate universes ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Alternate situations ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Hurt comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ MILDLY suggestive fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I DON'T WRITE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sexually explicit NSFW (OF ANY AGES) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Incest ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Pedophelia ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Underage use of drugs and alcohol ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ SA scenes ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The brutal murder of children ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Suicide ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Zoophilia

Side note:

My boundaries when writing fanfiction will not always align with my boundaries when writing original fiction. I want to respect the original piece of media and the creatives behind it- so I refrain from writing anything particularly heavy, intense, or mature that has not happened in the original piece or anything incredibly off-canon. I also know the large majority of those who read/request fanfiction are minors, and I want to be able to give them a place to read lots of fics without worrying about coming across anything particularly disturbing. Though with my original work, do expect much heavier topics to be referenced.

..........................Original Fiction........................

As I've stated before, I am an original author and I do plan on sharing my work here on this blog among other socials! My original work will usually take longer to release than fanfictions, so feel free to pop in aks about characters, plots, and things revealed through spoiler posts! The genres I write in are usually dark fantasy, realistic fiction, dark humor (if that counts), psychological thriller, psychological horror, dystopia, dark romance, and political fiction.

My original work may contain these things/topics: (Of course specialized Trigger Warnings will be placed on each piece according to the content of the writing)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Swearing ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Mental/Emotional/Physical Neglect ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Mental/Emotional/Physical Abuse ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Generally traumatic events ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Intense descriptions of blood, gore, and violence ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The use of drugs and alcohol ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Underage use of alcohol ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Toxic romantic relationships ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The mentions of sexual harassment/assault (The actual acts of assault are never described or written out. Only suggested.) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Cults/Cult-like organizations ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Death ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Violence ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Vomiting ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ MILDLY suggestiveness (MILD, meaning all characters are fully clothed, and there is never sexually intimate touching) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Vulnerable character (I.E: being drunk) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Child death ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Human cruelty ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ References made to specific types of drugs, alcohols, weapons, ect,

Another reminder:

All pieces of writing will have specific trigger warnings placed on them depending on the content of the piece. Not all of my original works will contain these specific topics if any at all- please read trigger warnings before consuming.

.......................Socials...................... ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Wattpad ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ AO3 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Neobook

Thank Ya'll :)

...to everyone who read through this and I do hope you stick around and follow to see what crazy shit I can whip up for y'all with nothing more than a Google Document and an ink cartridge filled with dreams!

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piedpiperslists · 2 months

Note

Is there any jungkook smuts/fics based on like a church setting, or any virgin jungkook fics you can recommend me please?

Hi. These are the fics I can think of with a church setting:

* s - contains smut

Doxology by dark-muse-iris - one shot (s) / wc~6.3k / secret relationship, PWP Summary: It’s Easter Sunday, one of the holiest of days for your presumed faith. But instead of spending it taking in the Lord’s message while tucked between your devout parents, you’re off sinning with the man who knows how truly wicked you are.

The Kids Aren’t Alright by sketchguk - one shot (s) / wc~10.5k / pastor’s kid!reader, FWB Summary: Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

Shiver by hansolmates - series (s) / bad boy!Jungkook, church girl!reader, childhood friends to lovers, FWB Summary: Your childhood crush Jeon Jungkook has changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. When he returns for a Christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. In exchange, Jungkook craves a taste of you.

As for virgin!Jungkook fics, here's about 15 fics listed under the cut. But is this a trend lately, the asks I've gotten have been mostly about virgin!Jungkook lmao

A Blight on the Heart by thatlongspringnight - one shot (s) / wc~13.3k / established marriage, historical au Summary: You married him because you wanted a new life, and even with the struggle, the fights, you’d marry him again any day. Or - Jungkook loves you from the moment he reads your first letter, and the rest is history.

But We Loved Too Young by jl-micasea-fics - one shot (s) / wc~10.4k / childhood friends to lovers Summary: Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

Close the Distance by hearts4joon - one shot (s) / wc~13.5k / college au, neighbors au Summary: Two different adults, living two completely separate lives — in the same neighborhood. A guy who’s overbearing mother makes him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. A girl who’s parents are all too drawn to her younger siblings to even give her the time of day. While the two fall in an unlikely relationship (very unlikely), they still ravish each and every part of one another in every way — the best of attention, the one they both craved all their lives.

Ghosts Just Wanna Have Fun by sugaxjpg - one shot (s) / wc~20k / med school au, psychic au Summary: When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

Gotcha by whatifyoulivelikethat - one shot (s) / wc~11k / childhood friends to lovers, college au Summary: The color blue. Two white hairpins. “Hey, Jungkook.” A laugh with shaking shoulders that Jeon Jungkook thought he would hear and see forever. Hey, Jungkook. But then those words became a memory, until she was standing in front of him again, sporting the title of “Virgin Killer” and Min Yoongi by her side. Was this his second chance or just another memory?

I Want to Have Sex by jeongi - one shot (s) / wc~7.2k / established relationship Summary: You plan on taking your boyfriend, Jungkook’s, virginity tonight.

Infatuated by namsjunies - one shot (s) / wc~3k / university au

Need to Know by pixieknj - one shot (s) / wc~4.4k / virgin!Jungkook, friends to lovers Summary: Jungkook’s tired of you teasing him…

The Virgin Volume by kpopfanfictrash - one shot (s) / wc~6.8k / angst, college au Summary: The story of how The Rich Man’s Crochet Club Jungkook lost his virginity. Prequel to The Monogamy Monologues.

Here's more virgin!Jungkook but I keep getting an error, so I had to break up the list.

Wait, You're a Virgin? by joonsmagicshop - one shot (s) / wc~8.8k / college au Summary: Jungkook gets teased at a college party for being a virgin and asks you to help him out

Will You Make a Mess Now? by softyoongiionly - one shot (s) / established relationship, college au Summary: Jungkook’s never been touched before and, after a hectic end to his semester, he thinks he wants that to change… Can I Make a Mess Now? by softyoongiionly - one shot (s) / established relationship, college au Summary: Jungkook’s never had sex before but, after realizing that he’s falling in love with you, he thinks he wants that to change.

Glitter and Disquiet by joheunsaram - two shots (s) / CEO!Jungkook, YouTuber!reader, enemies to lovers, chaebol au Summary: Poised to inherit Korea’s largest gaming company in a few months, the world looks at Jeon Jungkook as a symbol of envy. Why wouldn’t they? He has everything, riches, power, and according to the rumour mill, endless women. Little do they know that his father’s company is on the verge of downfall, he barely has respect of his employees, and regardless of the rumours, he’s just a virgin saving himself for true love.

For Science by boymeetsweevil - series (s) / nerd!Jungkook, friends to lovers, FWB, college au Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

One Time, In Your Room by ubemango - series (s) / established relationship, college au Summary: There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

#fics ask #fic rec

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nubimera · 1 year

Text

Even more headcanon about Gavin and Sibling!Reader

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: It's just all the headcanons that I didn't use in the last post but this time they're mostly domestic

Warnings: Mostly GN!Reader

Mild implied Connor x Reader and Reed900

Terrible English because it's not my first language

──────────────

• As I mentioned before Gavin and Reader have about a 10 year gap between them. That means the Reed house is filled with photos of Emo Teen!Gavin with toddler!Reader

• Gavin's favorite photo is a Polaroid of him and Reader napping together on the sofa when Reader was around 2 year old. He keeps it in his wallet, and the only person who has ever seen it is Tina

• Gavin used to call baby sibling "Pumpkin" The nickname has stuck, and he has no problem using it even at work

• At one point Connor also tried to use "Pumpkin" and Gavin almost punch him.

• Now Connor uses "любимая"(darling) or "жизнь моя"(my life) for Reader, and Gavin regrets every day that he didn't let him use pumpkin

• Hank however prefers "Dude" or "Asshole" for Gavin, and "Kiddo" for Reader. Plain and classic

• Connor learned to speak Russian on his third day at DPD after hearing Reader and Gavin talking to each other. Gavin so pissed off when he found out Tincan and Pumpkin were speaking Russian to each other.

Basically because it was something between sibling and mama Reed

• He kinda start getting used to it after Nines also started using Russian in their private conversations

• Although Mama Reed is an Orthodox Christian, she and Papa Reed have never pushed their children to choose which religion to practice. As a result, Gavin is an atheist, but still enjoys Orthodox celebrations (if papa Reed was of a religion other than Orthodox Christian, Gavin and Reader continue to celebrate their father's religious holidays as well)

• Gavin is a cat dad, and I think that's a proven fact. Nonetheless I think his love for cats he inherited from his mother

• Continuing to talk about Mama Reed: she is Slavic That means no shoes in the house. Reader and Gavin still using the "no shoes" policy in their respective homes

• "So what's it like being Reader's brother?"

" Once i asked them for a glass of water while they was mad at me and they brought me a glass of ice and said "Wait"."

• Much of Reader's childhood clothing was originally Gavin's. It doesn't matter if Reader is Afab or Amab. Do the clothes fit and are they in good condition? Great, Reader is gonna use it. Even now, Reader occasionally uses Gavin's clothes. Mainly hoodies or sweatpants that Gavin wears in his teens

• Nines would like to use some of Gav's clothes as well, but unfortunately many are too small, as Gavin is shorter than him

• Nines and Reader adore eachother. They are practically bestie. Reader likes to refer to Nines as "its own Tina". I guess they bonding over both being younger, smarter, nicer and better looking siblings in their respective families

• Also it is Reader who originally introduced Gavin and Nines. They became work partners just a few days later

"I just wanted to say i just got you a boyfriend."

"I'M NOT GAY I DON'T WANT A BOYFRIEND!"

• However Reed900 and Connor x Reader is pretty much the same pair in different fonts. Connor and Gavin haven't realized it yet or pretend not to notice, while Nines and Reader find it hilarious

• If you ask me they are both Sun x Moon, Loud introvert x Quiet extrovert, Taller simp husband x Shorter Reed

For me the only differences is that one is friends to lovers and the other is enemies AND friends AND lovers

• Gavin and Reader go to Target every Friday after their shift at the department. Normally to grab something for dinner and buy things they don't really need. Lately Nines decided to join too, and every time he goes there he promptly buys a new decorative cushion. Now Gavin gets nauseous every time he sees a new pillow but doesn't know how to say no to his boyfriend

• In 2042, Gavin and Nines adopt two children. Hank was initially quite uncomfortable around the kids, not being used to interacting with them anymore. Connor, on the other hand, has a baby fever since the first moment he met his nephews. He told Reader about it, who is still around his mid/late twenties and don't feel ready at the moment, so they compromised by getting a dog and a cat

• Anyway Connor cried when he found out that his nephews' favorite uncle isn't him, but it's Sixty

• In general now the relationship between Connor, Nines and Sixty vaguely resembles that between Bandit, Stripe and Radley from Bluey. You decide who is who

• I love to think Connor and Gavin have a truce around Reader and Nines, but whenever they aren't around they call each other names

• However over time they have grown fond of each other, and they look after eachother. Somehow they ended up being a family, so they might as well try to get along

• I mean, sometimes a family consists of a Russian widow, her two wild children, a grumpy dad and three androids

#mor #connor rk800 #dbh connor #connor rk800 x reader #dbh connor x reader #dbh hank #hank anderson #gavin reed x nines #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin reed x reader #gavin900 #gavin reed #nines x reader #rk900 x reader #rk900 #dbh headcanon #dbh x reader #reed900

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meear · 10 months

Text

The Dumbledores as Cain and Abel

I spent years being confused at how you were supposed to spell "Aberforth", because I kept seeing different spellings for it.

That was before realising Aberforth's name was actually only Abelforth in the French version.

Once I noticed that, I had to wonder why such a change? And then I thought hold up... the translator is onto something.

It's very common for names to be changed in translation, especially in Harry Potter: you could ask anyone who didn't read the books in English, and they'd give you a bunch of examples. But most of the time, proper nouns are translated because:

1) there's some sort of pun in the original name, like "Ravenclaw", "Longbottom" or "Slytherin": these names were constructed from english words, so it makes sense to change them in other languages

2) the original name fits the character's personality. The names "Snape", "Moody" and "Umbridge" all carry negative connotations, so they're all a perfect fit for their owner. But naturally a non-english speaker wouldn't register that, so the names need to change

In short, HP names tend to have meaning, so it's natural to translate that meaning for a foreign reader.

But as for Aberforth, why would you only change one letter? "aberforth" doesn't seem to mean anything anyway. Google says it's Gaelic for "from the river", but I don't know how reliable that is, and this doesn't seem so important.

The only explanation is that the French translator wanted to insist on the biblical reference.

Aberforth (or Abelforth in French) does share many similarities with Abel from the Bible:

1) their name, for one

2) sheep-herding: Abel was a shepherd ("Abel became a herder of sheep while Cain was a tiller of the soil"), and we know Aberforth was fond of goats and tended to them as well

3) much like how God favoured Abel's offering over Cain's, we know that Aberforth was Ariana's favourite, not Albus

4) both Aberforth and Abel were the (more admirable) younger brother.

Cain was the traitorous older brother who spilled the blood of his own sibling. Albus admits his own guilt in HP7 and claims Aberforth was a better person than him. This leads us to the most important point:

5) Albus blames himself for Ariana's death. the story of Cain and Abel is known as the first fratricide in abrahamic religions: it is very likely that either Albus or Aberforth (and I'm convinced it was Albus) was guilty of that sin, which led to their sister Ariana's death.

So yeah, I don't believe for a second any of Grindelwald's spells hurt Ariana. Of course, they're all guilty nonelethess, but I think it's important that Albus directly killed his sister too.

So I looked around to see if this possible connection was already well-known, but I could only find traces of it on a French thread from 2007. It was before the release of deathly Hallows, so the guy only suggested it based on Aberforth's fondness for goats (ahead of his time fr). He wasn't taken seriously because well, someone pointed out Abelforth wasn't Abelforth in the original language. Now we have the Dumbledore lore though!

Rowling's a Christian, and that religious influence can definitely be seen in Harry Potter (especially HP7, there are even some biblical verses in that one). It doesn't seem far-fetched to me.

If she intended it, it's still interesting that the translator took it upon himself to make that connection explicit (i dont see why else he'd change the name). Then again, while I like the translation (I never would've realised the Abel thing otherwise), what if it HAD been a coincidence? Did the translator only create meaning from his own interpretation? Much to think about

#i'm in translation studies so i wonder about stuff like this. do i like the change? yeah. would I have done it? no #aberforth was introduced as early as HP4. yet the translator had already decided he would be Abelforth based on a passing goat comment?based #aberforth dumbledore #albus dumbledore #harry potter #deathly hallows

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timmymyluv · 2 years

Text

act three

act three of the let others wage war, you, happy child, marry series

future tsar/romanov prince! timothée chalamet x danish!princess reader/oc

series masterlist

main masterlist

act one.

act two.

word count: 4.1k

warning(s): kissing, making out (nothing too steamy) more yearning that's all, vague sexual references if you squint

summary: your seemingly uneventful life meets a turn when you are faced a proposition that will propel you into the centre of a glittering empire as you wrestle with the prospects of leaving home or being with the one you love.

notes: a romanov au based on the grandmother of Anastasia- Maria Feodorovna. also based on the Danish Royal Family who were elected into the position and married into prestigious families and dynasties, with Christian IX her father known as the "father-in-law of Europe" during the 19th century.

side note: please lmk if you would like to join the taglist for any of my series/soc med aus or anything I upload! I lost track the first time but please send it again so I can organize it tysm 💕

"You don't turn your back on your destiny.”

― Trine Villemann, Queen of Deception

What you were expected to do next, is probably what your mother trained you her entire life for. After spending another breakfast alongside the Tsarina, this time without your mother, you were to spend your next few afternoons in the library with Timothee.

Besides from your introduction by the staircase and your brief altercation with you dropping your book, you have not spent any private time alone with the Russian heir one to one without his attention divided with your numerous family members.

You made your way through the marble halls, whipping your sweaty palms as you trembled in anxiety towards the library. With ribbons in your hair, braided as it’s split in the middle of your scalp before its pinned on the nape of your neck, you thought you looked like a show pony up for auction.

Pink ribbons that complemented the all-white dress you wore, jacquard organza, with bell sleeves decorated with dotted lace and a plain pearl white chiffon belt around your waist. You found it a little superficial that you had to be dressed to the nines to get his attention, but you closed your eyes as you stopped behind the oak doors, taking a deep breath before you swing the door open towards the library.

Absorbed into the leather spined book on the mahogany table, Tsesarevich Timothee did not hear your arrival. As you clear your throat, he looks up at you from the desk, astounded as he shuts the book and stands up to greet you with a polite bow.

“I apologize I did not hear you enter the room, Dagmar.” His cheeks flush in embarrassment and you can’t help but smile at how much younger and more childlike he seems suddenly, even with his dignified appearance and garments.

Walking towards him so you sit across from him on matching oak chairs, he elegantly strides over to usher the seat for you, inviting you to take a seat before him, ever a gentleman.

“Why, thank you Timothee. “ Minnie graciously nods in gratitude with a meek grin. In the absence of footmen usually doing announcements and assisting as your mothers unanimously agreed you both would be alone, devoid of your older brother Freddie in the other room.

As he sits from across from you, you hesitantly don’t know where to place his hands or what to say. He notices your discomfort, affably trying to find common interests in the encyclopedia he was reading.

“I have been engrossed for hours in this library, it is filled with such a magnificent collection. Do you usually read here often?”

“Very much so, Timothee. It’s my second home, my escape from everything around me. I like reading anything, probably more than my siblings. However, I am currently reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.”

“Yes, I have read that myself. Are you enjoying it so far?”

“I am eager to finish it soon but I would not call it among my favourites.”

He arches his eyebrow in curiosity, more unconstrained once he felt that you were less guarded with him.“Is that so? What else has been occupying your time, Minnie of Denmark.”

You ramble on for what seems like hours on end on your ongoing interests, from the new dress patterns you have been trying, the meals you have been cooking up in the kitchen (even if you can now easily afford an entire array of chefs and maids in the palace), to the economic, philosophical and even political works in the abounding library filled with both ancient texts and new literature fresh off the press.

For the next few weeks up to the month, this has become part of your routine to spend a few hours in the private library with Timothee. In your own private nook and cranny, you’re both surrounded and intellectually yet also emotionally and mentally stimulated by lush, carved marble with golden leaves and statues intricately molded.

It is between these halls where you truly get to know him, from his fondness of his family even within the wintry coldness of the aptly named Winter Palace, how he adores his only sister Maria among his rowdy brothers.

He shared with you how it was like in the Imperial Russian royal court, from the elaborate court dress and protocol, the ceremonies, the holidays, the symbolism and the complexity of a world that is so unlike the one you know.

The way Timothee described the ornate halls in the Tsarskoye Selo palaces, from the Malachite Room where Russian Grand Duchesses prepared for their matrimonial ceremonies, the remarkable itinerary from his past Grand Tour of Europe, from the vastness of the kingdom he is to inherit, the range of people he has met who will one day be ruled under his wing, the places and cultures he has explored.

A certain tinge of jealousy formed from within you, but the compelling way he would unravel stories to you, from thoughts and ideas into spoken word, like the written poetry he had gradually introduced and shown you, fascinated you more by the day. You longed to get out of what felt like a plain cage in your tiny Denmark, you loved your country more than anything. You would die for it.

Yet you could see the genuine admiration he had for your passionate, incongruous tirades for hours on end on what you sincerely cared about. From your avenue in swimming, rare for noble women and even less regular to be taught by a female swimming coach, ice skating by the lake and racing with your siblings - to the new economic and political theories emerging in universities where you longed to go in place of your indifferent brothers, new dress sketches, ribbons, laces, pearls, the places you wanted to go and what you wanted to do in the future.

Yet you could not get rid of this inner knowing, this unspoken urge, almost your intuition or insight on your fate and potential - that you were meant for greater things. You were meant for the extravagance of life, not just a plain soldier’s wife like your sisters would be satisfied with. You would never be satisfied, there was always a hunger in you that would not be quenched, fulfilled and fed to fullness.

With Alix en route to becoming Princess of Wales and future Queen of England, one of the great powers of Europe, then is it not only fitting for you as her younger sister to have a fate as befitting as hers? It felt wrong thinking that you would throw yourself to whatever eligible heir to try to one up your own flesh and blood, but there was more to it that you could not fully comprehend.

As the weeks continued and you became closer than ever to the Russian heir, it is an accumulation of built up tension and almost - longing, passion and unspoken emotion that is always present between the two of you. It grows, it lingers, it festers, no matter how much you try to kill it and you can visibly see him suppress himself as he would, a proper, respectable gentleman raised only with the finest breeding.

“Tell me what a typical day in your tutoring sessions looks like?” Minnie inquires curiously, lounging on the golden loveseat with her palms folded under her chin as she kneels on the cushion and looks at him with wide eyes.

“My mother is thoroughly involved in my education, from the selection of my tutors, the content of my curriculum, the traveling itinerary when I am actually out on the field rather than locked up in a palace. Both my parents have always emphasized to me that my role is privileged yet it is a duty, a responsibility to improve the lives of those who look under me. To be a public servant and not be indulgent in the trappings of wealth and revelry, is my goal as future Tsar of Russia.”

…

Nearly reaching a month of when your library concussion became regular, you and Timothee dug deep into the halls of the aged library, having read, thoroughly discussed and explored the shelves closer to the main entrance by the oak table.

You were scanning thoroughly through the bottom shelves, brushing your fingers against the harsh spines of the pressed books, while he was up a few steps on the metal ladder, skimming through a few pages of books until he would find what he was looking for.

“Be careful you might fall off, Timmy.” You tease him partially, but downplaying the concern you had for his safety as you gripped tightly on the ladder for support.

Over the hours you have gotten to know him closely and without formalities, you have been able to peek beyond the facade of the guarded, romantic Russian heir and become familiar with his sense of humour and unfiltered thoughts, dreams and aspirations, beyond the role he was raised to inherit.

Shaking his head as he clambers down, he struggles to get his footing back on the ground before nearly colliding into you. The sheer force of the weight and holding back the ladder as he panics.

You stride backwards haphazardly against the staircase, with his body pressing against yours, with his palms around your shoulders to soften the blow of impact, and a gentle hand on the side of your head in case any books fall over.

Out of breath as your heart beats so loudly you can hear it echo in your eardrums, his breath warm against your skin, his nose touching yours and your mouth a millimeter away from his. Timothgee’s shaken expression turns into unabridged yearning, wanting to kiss you but not without your permission. Not like this.

It was never proper for any respectable gentlemen, more so a royal prince, to make any advancements without a formal proposal. You attempt to speak up or push him away from you, but a part of you is frozen in place and has your words caught in your throat, eyes dilated in adoration. The scent of his aftershave lingered and you wanted to hollow yourself into its embrace.

“I-I sincerely apologize, Your Royal Highness.” Closing his eyes in restraint before he smooths the ruffles of your dress, pacing away from you unable to meet your eyes before he bows and leaves the room abruptly. It’s hard to deny the stinging hurt and conflict heavy on your chest as you recollect your breath, and fiddle with the loose curls in your hair.

Stumbling into the closest upholstered chaise, you let out a breath of incredulity as you brush your fingerprints against your lips, feeling the ghost of what could have been. Your meetings with the heir are abruptly interrupted as you are too overwhelmed to see him in private without a crowd of your families and delegates present.

…

“What if- what if she does not fancy me the same way I do?” Timothee asks, slamming down the French language newspaper he is unable to focus on and read as he sits by the reading table in his guest bedroom.

Alexander, or Sasha, his younger brother by only a year, had finished his yearly military training before following his brother and mother to their excursion in Copenhagen. Taller, broader, with much more roguish and defined features than his delicate, almost ethereal, elfin brother, whatever differences they had could not be overcome by their unchanging bond.

“No fool of a woman would refuse your advances, Tim. Besides, if you were to propose on bended knee to anyone from the street, whether it be from the Almanach de Gotha or the brothels, it would take a blind man to not see how her eyes speak of love to you in the same way.” Sasha retorts, crossing his legs as he lounges them over the table, throwing in a grape from the bowl next to him languidly as he looks out the window.

“She is a beautiful girl-”

“You act as if I have not seen her at the balls and the brunches we have attended in her home country, or worse, I have been subject to your hours of pining over you as you sing songs of praise in her name and declare her the love of your life even from the few photographs you had of her.” Sasha teases, dropping his legs and turning to face his brother with a pestering expression.

He dodges the embroidered pillow Timothee throws at him facetiously, earning a chuckle from both before the elder leaves the room to reach for his parchment and his treasured, personally engraved inked fountain pen.

In his absence, Timothee misses Alexander’s apprehensive frown towards the scatter of carte-de-visites of Minnie’s image.

…

The cold, icy silence is broken in only a few days, as the time is ticking before his departure, with a full bouquet of pink roses and carnations by your front door, delivered not by your Danish maids but by his personal secretary and a few of his staff members.

“Your Royal Highness, these are from His imperial Highness, Grand Duke Timothee Alexandrovich, ma’am. If you would so kindly accept, he has intricately put these together for you.”

“For me?” They all nod in expectation, blinking at you expressionlessly before you miss the beat and graciously take the bouquet in your arms. Just as they bow politely to their absence, your ladies-in-waiting about to shut your bedroom door before you interrupt them to pick up the note inserted that fell down on the floor.

“Dear Minnie,

I apologize for the impropriety of my behaviour since the last time we had met and have only parted since. I ask humbly to implore your kindness to forgive me and give me one more chance to be blessed with your company. If it pleases you, please send for a single white peony flower to be delivered to my bedside this morning, and I plead that you meet me at the same drawing room of the library we have become so accustomed to in the last Sunday before my decampment.

Yours,

Timmy”

Your heart fluttered that he had dropped the rigid formalities he had resorted to since you had last seen him in the flesh, still coming back to the nicknames that had sounded so natural to your tongue and felt like home.

A singular peony flower was found by his bedside the following morning.

…

You have been on edge recently, restless and numb all around as you pace around your bedroom, pondering whether you go outside again and risk bumping into him before you are emotionally prepared to do so.

In your velvet riding cape and with your riding shoes laced up tightly, you peer through the cream coloured curtains and you could already feel the tinge of regret if you do not ride in view of the perfect sunset, scattered in warm pinks and bright oranges.

Sneaking past your distracted handmaidens, you furtively make your way towards the stables to ride with your beloved white stallion. Mounting on your horse masterfully, you tug on the leather straps before your horse Winter gallops eagerly towards the gorgeous fall weather outside.

The breeze of fresh air hits your face suddenly, and you smile at the soothing sensation it gives you that nearly knocks off the tiredness and sleeplessness you have been fighting since you last saw Timothee. As you attempted to enjoy the scenery before you and the lush, pedicured gardens that you had so loved, you could not escape your thoughts of his acuminous, striking features, from his curved nose, the pink of his fine lips, his dreamy eyes that swirled of gold, of emerald green, and the blues of the seas all at once.

Shaking your head, you tug on your leather straps to quicken the pace of your stallion. You feel the sweat glisten on your brow as the temperature rises and your cheeks redden in flush.

Dried eyes and dark circles hollow your face from sleepless nights of tossing and turning. You cannot ignore the feeling, the butterflies, the thumping, the unintended calm, the peaceful knowing erupting from within you.

What minutes you rode outside the palace grounds felt like hours, even as the noon sun began to slightly dim in the late summer.

Just as you make a final turn to quickly stop over towards the private garden hidden beneath the grazed path that is concealed by bushes and mazes, you catch a glimpse of unruly curls amass a swad of fine silks and satin and you turn around so abruptly you're afraid you have gone whiplash.

Dizzy and discombobulated as you hurriedly race back to your bedroom in hopes of being spared from scoldings from your parents, your swift, quiet riding turns rugged and emphatic.

Whatever efforts you had to avoid your presence being known to Timothee are all in vain when you see him galloping towards you on your brothers horse from the corner of your eye when you turn around.

Light-headed and wobbly as you halt your horse in front of an aged oak tree and plummet down your feet, you catch your breath leaning down and holding on your horses leather stirrups as he approaches you hurriedly.

Feeling humiliated and abashed in your muddy riding gown, untucked hair falling off your lazily pinned bonnet and worn out riding boots, your heart continues to raise from the adrenaline of the chase, yet from the mere presence of him in your vicinity.

"It has been too long, my dearest Dagmar. I cannot hide it any longer, what I feel towards you."

"What!?"

You scold yourself in your head immediately and bite your tongue at your tendency to speak before thinking, yet he is not phased.

"What I feel towards you goes beyond political pressures and dynastic alliances, as I would rather die alone than marry someone out of duty and not love, Minnie." Hearing the hoarseness in his voice as he murmurs your nickname like a prayer feels so right, even when it felt like you were thrown off hundreds of miles spinning in unknown directions as the forked road splits in front of you.

As he approaches you, you notice his lavender cravat is loosened from its formerly orderly knot, slugging along with his unbuttoned cream white shirt, revealing his milky skin.

Seeing the same restlessness and fatigue in his swollen eyes and faint shadow of stubble on his chiseled face, your heart turns into knots that overwhelm you so much you fear you will burst into tears.

As he steps forward towards you, you do not retreat and surrender as your back hits the firm tree trunk, his forehead brushing against yours as his eyes waver anxiously from your eyes to your lips.

"Is it wrong I feel the same?"

You sword you saw him roll his eyes in constrained want, his groans making you feel an unfamiliar wetness between your legs, nearly feeling his arousal harden between your thighs yet his wandering hands go no further than the columns of your curves. Feeling the fabric of your beige cropped Button jacket, you feel want coarse through your veins as you lean in towards him, your lips so close to his.

"May I?"

"I would die if you waited any longer."

He dives in with heated passion, hands tightly gripping around your waist as your palms slide up towards his shoulders and behind his neck. His lips feel warm against yours, exploring wildly as his tongue dances around your mouth yet constrains and softens as his lust is overpowered by a mellow, placid affection and infatuation for you.

Timothée pulls away with swollen lips and dilated pupils that swirl in the hazel, gold and hints of ocean blue that you love so much.

"The days I have left in Copenhagen are numbered but what is most important to me is you do not feel pressured to succumb to any external influences of your feelings to me. Take a few fortnights to think through what I have shared with you, Minnie. If you would give me the honour to be your wedded husband, I would do anything in my capability to make you happy and be loyal to you. Even if it costs my life."

Before you are able to process the heated exchange you have in the shaded, dimming forest, he is gone.

…

“May I speak to Princess Dagmar, please. Alone?”

The surreptitious knocks from the unlocked entrance of the parlor room interrupts your spirited discussions and round of games with your sisters, Alix and Thyra. Alix had just returned from England on her own, having won over the affections of Queen Victoria and began preparations before you were to join her with your family to England for the matrimonial ceremony.

Alix looks at you with a raised eyebrow, almost knowing from her subtle smirk as you pull gently from the hems of her sleeves, but she shakes her head as she stands up and pats your shoulder before she leaves.

“Alix, where are you going?” You whisper with wide eyes.

“You will be fine, dear Minnie. He wants to talk to you alone. Remember what we talked about.”

As your mother Louise answers nearly feverishly, a grin on her face as she courtesies at the Russian heir and dragging your sisters along with her, slamming the door shut just to leave you and Timothee alone.

Minnie stammers, fiddling with her fingers nervously. Timothee approaches you tensely with his arms by his sides, palms interlocked behind him.

A poignant, charged silence occurs between the two of you. You sit there nervously, your skirt splayed out on the upholstered love seat, your words caught up in your throat.

Mustering the courage, he clears his throat as he looks at you, stepping closer carefully.

"Dagmar, I-You-" murmuring under his breath, switching back and forth between your shared English language, before spluttering in incomprehensible French and German that confused you further.

"As you know, the road ahead for me is clearly paved as the future Tsar of Russia and it is a duty that I do not take lightly."

"Yes?"

"Heavy is the crown that one bears and I understand it is not merely a privilege for me to splurge but a responsibility for me to serve my country men. I have met many great men far and wide, of the utmost intelligence, discipline -" as he nervously prances around the room, you stare at him with furrowed brows and a gaped mouth on confusion for his next step.

" You are very kind, Timothee. Too kind, perhaps. "

"Yes, yes." He pauses intentionally, staring at you right in your eyes with an unknown expression. You are drawn into his hazel eyes sprinkled in gold and lush green, under a spell you don't want to break yourself free of.

"And for the future Tsar, in order to rule the kingdom with the right mind and character, no matter how much preparation I would need, I would need a future Empress of Russia." Timothee approaches you, now more relaxed with slumped shoulders. Standing in front of you, hesitantly reaching forward until you offer your hands, clutching his large, slender fingers gently yet firmly and with purpose.

Gulping tensely as you let out a shaky breath and close your eyes to collect your breath, before you meet his eye. You know what exactly he is asking for.

"I had spoken for and asked permission from your beloved parents, His and Her Majesty, if they would grant me the honour of asking for your hand. In their kindness and grace, they only ask that you marry for love and it remains your choice in your choice of groom. If you believe that I am not worthy of your presence, one word from you and I will leave you in peace. I do not promise it will be an easy journey, for the undertaking I am humbly asking of you, but would you accept my proposal that you will become the future Empress of Russia by my side? To be my destined spouse in front of the church, our Father in Christ and our people?"

"Yes! Yes! Without question." You interrupt him suddenly, looking up as you jump on your feet. With your voice highly pitched with your wide eyes and raised cheeks, you leap into his arms with an disarming speed that nearly knocks him off his feet.

Caught off guard, he errors into an overjoyed smile, eyes wrinkled in his unrbidled joy, wrapping his arms around your waist with happy tears brimming from his eyes as you pepper gentle kisses on the apple of his cheeks and brushing over his nose.

Pulling away to stand in front of him, you gently grasp his forearms as he circles his hands around your waist. You exhale slowly, admiring him with gentle, soft eyes and a satisfied grin.

Your life changed forever. Another world opens up to you.

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thevaleriaxortiz · 4 months

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[cisfemale, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [VALERIA "VAL" ORTIZ]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [CHRISTIAN SERRATOS]. You must be the [THIRTY-FIVE] year old [WAITSTAFF AT FOUR LEAF PUB]. Word is you’re [HELPFUL] but can also be a bit [DEFENSIVE] and your favorite song is [DEAR READER BY TAYLOR SWIFT]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [FISHER'S COVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

tw: emotional neglect, dubcon, prostitution, daddy issues?

@aurorabayaesthetic

Valeria Mariana Ortiz was the firstborn of five children and as such, is the only one of the Ortiz kids to remember a before. A before the other kids were born, a before their father lost their job, a before they all became this broken family 'unit' that all her siblings had ever known. Her brother, Bruno, was born just a year after her and he would have remembered it all too, but given that he ran away when he was only thirteen...Valeria would never know for certain.

She was eight when Asher was born, and pretty much all of Val's positive childhood memories revolved around her little brother. She adored him, and her mother did too, but just a couple short years later (Ash was barely even out of diapers) their father lost his job and after that, everything became an after for Valeria. After their father lost his job and he spiraled into a pit of depression, Valeria made it her mission to help as best she could. At only ten years old, she tried to keep their home tidy, helped cook dinners, took care of her brothers when daycares and babysitters couldn't. She tried to be as small and as quiet as possible, to be as little a burden as she could to her poor mother who was definitely feeling the strain with the three mouths to feed and the little hours she managed to get at her waitressing job. It went on like that for years too, Val putting her brothers and their home first to try and give their mother one less thing to worry about- especially as their father's unemployment finally ran out and he had zero prospects in sight.

Another After was when she was fourteen and her brother Bruno ran away, drawers empty and no notes left behind. She still wonders if he's even still alive. Wonders if Bruno thinks the same of them. The loss of their eldest son put even more of a strain on the Ortiz family. It made their father spiral even more, drinking heavily, gambling. He was never really abusive to her and Asher, but almost worse, he was just...never there. Not really anyways. Never in ways that counted. So without an older brother and now without a father, Valeria was more determined than ever to try and be there for her remaining brother, Asher. She took care of him when he was sick, made sure homework was done and food was eaten and teeth were brushed. They loved their mother (Ash especially was a momma's boy) but for all intents and purposes, Valeria was the mom. It was a role she took seriously all throughout high school, and it was something she just doubled down on when their mother became pregnant again, and this time with twins.

Carmen and Lydia were born when Asher was nine and Valeria was seventeen, and what started as just parenting her brother when she could, became Val's entire life with two new babies in their ever-shrinking mobile home. Their father never bothered getting another job, clearly sufficing on his wife's paycheck and foodstamps, but with the babies now around, Valeria knew she had no other choice but to be around more--which meant dropping out of high school halfway through her junior year, giving up college and her education as a whole in favor of helping their mother and her younger siblings.

Being home full-time, when she wasn't helping with the twins, Val was trying to help make money. She did little jobs here and there- more babysitting, stints at fast-food places, any place that would take a teenagers without even a diploma. One sure-fired way she found to make easy cash too one night, was selling sex for money. It wasn't exactly how she'd imagined her life (she'd lost her virginity at sixteen to her boyfriend at the time that whispered pretty things to her and promised forever only to break up a few months later) and she wasn't exactly comfortable sleeping with strangers and feeling like an object, but it helped pay the bills easily--especially if she'd go to parties a few towns over and whisper her own pretty little lies about her virginity. Men emptied their pockets fairly quickly to try and say they were some teenaged girl's first. Served them right.

But even that extra cash wasn't always enough and apparently Asher realized it too. Valeria didn't even know how he was getting the extra money and food at first until one night she got a call from their county jail to come pick him up for shoplifting. Annoyed, Val used money she'd been stashing away (all her earned cash was hidden in her room, while the money she made from the McDonalds in town went straight to her parents) and she bailed him out on the promise that he'd tell her just what the hell he'd been up to. Valeria was disappointed, she was upset that he felt the need to be doing things like this to help, but..ultimately, she didn't stop him. Especially since the two of them together were definitely managing to bring home enough extra food and money to keep their family afloat.

It went on like that for a while (albeit with a few hiccups, like Asher getting in bigger trouble that resulted in house arrest and an ankle monitor, not allowing him to do his extra curricular) but overall they managed like that for years, Valeria's twenties going by in a blur of working and raising children that weren't hers and trying to have a life of her own but failing miserably because no one wanted to stay around for more than a couple of dates and a few decent rounds of sex with someone whose life was as messy as hers. But whatever. She had more important things to deal with. She and Asher's lives had clearly gone down the tubes but Val was adamant to have her baby sisters do better. She made sure they did well in school and didn't stray, made sure they didn't feel the need to help with money as well.

She was in her early 30's when the next shake-up in their lives happened, with Asher just...up and leaving. He'd done it before where he disappeared for a few days, but he always came back. Not this time though. Valeria was angry and she was hurt because for years it'd always been them two keeping the peace, and now it was just on her. But as hurt as she was...she couldn't deny the bit of relief she felt too. Relief that he was finally getting away, relief that he'd maybe get to live a more normal life- a peaceful life. And a bit of relief that he was one less person she needed to take care of. The twins were almost fifteen by then, so they weren't totally helpless, but without Asher there, Val admittedly felt a bit off-kilter but she kept on trying, kept on doing her own odd-jobs while occasionally prostituting on the side when funds were low.

Finally this year though, when things got shaken up, they were for the better. All her hard work on the twins paid off, they'd both been offered scholarships to schools far, far away from Arizona and they both eagerly accepted. Her mother, now with all her children grown, finally felt secure enough to divorce her father and leave, and Valeria, her mother and her sisters combined all but forced her to go too. She'd sacrificed her entire life to keep theirs going, and now, freshly-turned 35 just a couple weeks ago, was finally given the opportunity to live life for herself.

Over the years Asher had been gone, he sent letters and postcards, the sporadic payphone call when he remembered, just assuring her he was alive and safe. The last card she'd gotten from him had been a few months ago, from a little beach town in California. Aurora Bay. It seemed decent enough. So with a shoebox full of cash and her life piled up in some old duffle bags, Valeria finally left Scottsdale at the beginning of the new year, off to see the ocean for the first time, to live for the first time, and maybe find her brother again along the way.

extras:

birthday- december 1st

nicknames- val, valé, ortiz

fluent in english and spanish

had her own case of sticky fingers growing up, but usually left the stealing to asher.

never got her GED or went back to school, only has an education up to the 11th grade.

appearance:

long dark hair

height - 5′6

chipped black nails, red lipstick stains on cigarette butts

lots of black, denim, oversized plaid shirts, boots, ripped fishnets, tequila and cheap vanilla perfume

#aurorabay.intro #bio

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montanababe7 · 8 months

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🥺😭😭😭

Even in those moments-seeing my siblings and my dad: they were my safe place. 💕😭😭❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹🥺🥺🥺🥺

My brother Josh passed away three years ago in 2020 from brain cancer. He was only 30🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭

This is my go ministries international story:

> The audio version of my go ministries international story will be shared soon.

> But, this is what I remembered when I asked Jesus to remind me of the things my brain blacked out for many years. *Warning ⚠️. What happened in 2008 was intense. What you are about to read isn’t for the faint of heart or younger readers. Please be advised.

> One memory I just now remembered was the Christmas production in 2008. we put on at lwcc, in that drama I was the emo/goth girl who was a cutter. Somehow, they had chosen to mock me even if they didn’t know I was suicidal for months and had fought the desire to slit my wrists.

> *Why did you decide to join go.

> As long as I can remember, I always wanted to pray for and minister to others. I wanted to show them Jesus. To show them His heart. When I saw that go ministries international they had a youth program; I wanted to learn everything I could, bless others back. So many precious young people are hurting and they just need someone to care. To reach out to them. To let them know they are never alone. To show them Jesus.

> 2. What were your first thoughts once you were an intern?

> The day before go started, I was with my family at living word Christian center. The core leadership seemed to care about me. They were so kind and seemed to be loving. Other people had a different thought. They told me, “Jessica, are these fake faces or faith faces.” At that point, I honestly did not know. I had wanted to believe the best in them. Little did I know, how truly wrong I would be the next day.

> My parents and family, had already dropped me off and were driving away. I assumed everything would remain happy. Seconds later, the leadership started screaming for all of us interns to get to the front lawn. I didn’t know why I felt complete terror. All I knew and could feel at that moment, was this: my hands went completely numb. I felt like throwing up as we were screamed at to start doing up downs and sit-ups, push-ups, the bear crawl, running back and forth. Many on my left and on my right were throwing up and passing out. The leaders didn’t care. They screamed at them to get back up.

> Next, we were told to fit as much or little into a duffle bag. The next thing we were told was to file into the vans silently. We were not allowed to talk to anyone. We were told to keep our eyes straight not looking in any direction. The bus ride to Wisconsin was several hours long. When we arrived that night, it was already dark out. They screamed at us to file into formation. For years, the memories have seemed like a bad dream. The distant memories blurred into dreams.

> 3. What were your most vivid memories of go. Good, and bad. How did it affect you?

> Alright, as soon as we all were on the line. They began spray painting numbers onto a T-shirt. I can’t remember what my number was. But, during that week; that number was my name. The week, I was no longer Jessica. I was nothing more than a number. We were told that we had to carry our bible, water battle, a stick, and an egg. We were forced to run far past the point of what seemed normal human endurance. At one point, I thought my heart and lungs would give out from all the running. I was told by one of the leaders that I had to keep running until they said to stop.

> The next thing I remember, was doing military style exercises that involved balancing on a small metal string, I slipped and the metal string slapped into my leg, it had cut my leg deeply into the bone. The bone was exposed. Blood was gushing everywhere. I couldn’t limp, let along walk. But, we were told that the word can’t wasn’t allowed. So, despite the deep pain-the leaders didn’t show me any levels of compassion or mercy. I had to run with blood gushing down my leg. I couldn’t stop crying. After that we were forced to run up and down slippery stairs for 2 to three hours at least nonstop. After that, we were told that we had to carry a hundred pound cross up and down the stairs.

> The other memory that I can’t forget: being awoken out of sound sleep with a blow horn to my heart and being told to clean a building from top to bottom in the middle of the night. The nights turned into days. And the days turned into nights. The mere idea of food or even eating became unneeded to my weary and tired brain at that point. I didn’t want to throw up. Thankfully, I never did. But the feeling was horrible eating and being forced to eat everything on your plate. Then, you had to run. For hours. Or whenever they decided for us to stop running.

> I remember we had rock experiences, where we had to pick up huge boulders that were so sharp. The rocks began to cut my wrists and my arms. I was forced to wear long sleeves for weeks; because the leaders didn’t want people assuming that I’d cut my wrists.

> The next memory is very painful. They called it judgement day. We all had to line up once again and wait our turn. When my name was called, I had to recite from memory Ephesians 6:10-12 from the message or amplified version. But, if we forgot the verse at all-we would be pushed off the dock. Mind you, it was nighttime and freezing out. I was pushed off

> The dock twice, I walked back to my spot in line. I was freezing cold and I worried that I’d die of hyperthermia. I couldn’t stop shaking. No one asked me if I was alright. No one asked me how weak I felt or how numb my body had become. They simply screamed at me. They called me a failure.

> That night, I had to sleep in freezing, wet clothes. We weren’t allowed to shower they week. We were their slaves and how they treated us-we were nothing. They even took our cell phones away. Gee, wonder why.

> The next memory was the communist game. We were awoken once again out of sound sleep with a blow horn to our ears. It’s a miracle I didn’t go deaf or lose any hearing. We were told we were being arrested for being Believers in Jesus. And we had to find the hidden tracks before the other communists found them. We had to run in the freezing rain. I ran to a hiding spot. Somewhere deep in the forest. It was pelting rain. I huddled onto the grass and bawled my eyes out-laying in a fetal position. Telling myself that somehow I’d survive this. I asked Jesus to take me home that night. I wanted to find a rock or anything sharp and end it all. I was done.

> The next second, someone grabbed my arms and told me I was going with them. They brought us to a building where we had to sit completely still. No movement. Zero movement was allowed. We had been up for over 24 to 48 hours without sleep. Anyone who started to doze off had a blow horn to their ears. I kept slapping my cheek just to stay awake.

> We get back to the ranch in mora, Minnesota. We are told that daily we’ll have pt. Every morning at 5 or 5:30 sharp. Meet outside of the house. If we were late. We would have to write down Luke 16:10 100 times. If we failed, they’d add on another hundred more. That was only the beginning of the nightmare.

> One of the days of pt, I heard my back snap when we were doing up downs. I told one of the leaders that I couldn’t run anymore and she screamed at me. Threatening to punish me even worse for simply saying, “I can’t.”

> Fast forward to a month or two later, my confidence was already shot. Not to mention, I had lost 10-15 pounds at bootcamp. My ankles, legs, and feet were so swollen that I couldn’t even put socks on and my pants wouldn’t even fit. The physical breaking was terrible. But the emotional breaking nearly destroyed and almost killed me.

> I was told that I would be put on ministry probation. They prevented me from praying for anyone. I couldn’t speak to anyone unless they addressed me first.

> Only few of the people there showed me one ounce of kindness. I snuck showers, because I was so depressed that I want to slit my wrists. I had a plan to bleed out in the shower. So no one would know. Those thoughts went through my mind for those four to five months I was there.

> One night, the female leadership told us that we had to strip down to our bras and underwear. But, if any of the boys found out; we’d be writing sentences till our hands fell off. We were told to shower with other girls. I never did. I snuck showers.

> 4. When did you leave and when did you realize they were toxic?

> How go affected me. My dad said hi to me one Sunday. I didn’t call him as dad. I called him, sir. My dad broke down and cried. He looked at me, and said, “Jessica, I’m your father. Not sir. What did they do to you?”

> My mom pulled me into the church bathroom one night and said, “we’ve had enough of them treating you this way. We’re taking you back home to Hutchinson tonight. Lie if you have to. But, you’re not going back to go. We’ll leave your stuff there.” I lied to one of my leaders. I felt terrible. I cried the whole way home.

> When I got home. I called friends and they didn’t even recognize me. I didn’t act the same. I had nightmares and my room was blood red. Go gave me ptsd. I was in multiple inner counseling sessions. I’ve had many panic attacks. Flash backs. Different times where I would hyperventilate.

> The signs of go being a cult are obvious:

> *They tell you-that they are your family.

> *zero contact with the outside world.

> *they took our cell phones away.

> *they shut the water off.

> *they stopped communication with me after I left.

> I was told that I lacked faith. Reality: I ran out of money.

> But. Jesus has been healing my heart. I’ve forgiven the leadership. I pray what I have shared with you all today is a warning and an alert to the youth who might consider go ministries international. I’m sharing my story so you never have to attend or experience what myself or others have seen and heard. I want to spare you from this pain. And hold the hearts of the ones who are still suffering because of go or the ones who are stuck in go and don’t know how to get out. Know that I’m praying for you. I’m praying for the complete healing of your heart. That there is so much love in your heart. Never forget who you are. That’s what go wants. But, Jesus wants you happy and whole. I want my life to seen as someone who helps others escape from the trenches and hold you close. You each have giftings and talents. Don’t allow go ministries international to ever steal your purpose or your identity. You are not a mistake. God loves you. He has never stopped loving you. I pray that you can feel Jesus heart even in my message.

> -Jessica

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bankshill3 · 2 years

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The Pastor’s Daughter (Part One)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 1,930

Warning: Religious Themes (probably inaccurately reflected)

*******

Being the daughter of a holy man has never been easy for you, especially since your parents took it upon themselves to travel to areas where you didn’t know anyone and they were most needed.

You never managed to establish yourself anywhere, stay in touch with friends you made and your parents were strict and far from wealthy.

You and all of your siblings worked to support the family unit and, since you were the second eldest of five children, it was your responsibility to help your mother to look after your younger siblings as well.

You had an older brother, who was experienced in performing factory work and, when your family decided to move from Scotland to the small working town of Small Heath, he took up a position as foreman at Shelby Company Limited.

You and your younger sister both took up work as tailors and dress makers, working three days per week in a small shop in Birmingham. You enjoyed your work and, whilst you mainly tailored suits for men who could afford custom made clothes, your passion was to design and create dresses for women. As such, you spent a substantial amount of your wages on fabric for yourself, making beautiful dresses for you and your sisters to wear.

Your mother worked at the local markets some days and your father had been in issued with a position as a pastor by the congregation after the last pastor had, unfortunately, lost his life due to illness.

Some say that he was poisoned but the medical reports indicated that his death resulted from natural causes and only very few dared to question what really happened.

The congregation also provided you with housing. It was the largest house you had ever lived in and you had to only share a room with one of your sisters.

Most of your spare time, you spent at the house or at the church. You weren’t permitted to socialise with women, let alone men.

According to your father, the Small Heath district was also much more dangerous than areas you had lived in before. It was full of criminals and men who, according to your father, were damaged by the war.

They were unpredictable and he was worried about you and your sisters.

With that in mind, even though you were already twenty-two, you never had a boyfriend or partner yourself because of the restraints your parents placed upon you.

One day, you were to marry a man from Scotland, a god-fearing man who believed in the lord and who knew how to take care of you and your parents already had a suitor in mind. His name was James and he was 23, currently stationed in London and attending medical school.

He was going to be a doctor within less than a year and then he was set to marry you and you were to bear children for him.

But James didn’t interest you. He was arrogant and certainly not attractive. Yet, you saved yourself for this man as, after all, you were promised to him and this was what good Christian girls do.

***

You had been in Small Heath for four weeks and it was a breezy Thursday morning when you arrived at work early at the request of your employer. You were to fabricate a suit for a man with great importance. His name was Thomas Shelby and, whilst he had made quite a name for himself in Birmingham, he was also known to be quite dangerous.

According to your workmate Julia, his family had recently purchased two large factories in the area, both of which, according to her, were bought with money obtained from illegal gambling activities and race fixing.

She told you that Thomas Shelby and his family used to operate an illegal gambling den which, only recently, had been legalised after the killing of a man named Billie Kimber.

According to rumours, it was Thomas Shelby himself who was responsible for the death of Billie Kimber and he was well feared ever since.

You were certainly nervous to meet him now that you knew about him and, when he stepped through the front door of the tailor shop, you couldn’t help but gasp.

He looked intimidating, that was for sure, but he also looked incredibly attractive and you couldn’t help but stare at his piercing blue eyes.

The way you stared at him was certainly noticeable to him and other patrons in the small shop and, when he greeted you, you didn’t even respond until your workmate Julia gave you a nudge.

‘Uhm, good morning, Mr Shelby, I am Y/N and will be looking after you today’ you stammered out eventually and he simply nodded before looking through the fabrics your employer had set aside for his choosing.

‘This one’ he eventually said, pointing to the one he had chosen out and you shyly nodded before advising him that this was also the most expensive fabric.

‘It’s free for Mr Shelby, now please continue Y/N’ your employer then said before advising Thomas that you were the best tailor in town.

‘Better than you?’ Thomas chuckled and your employer nodded.

‘Very well’ he then said before taking off his suit jacket and gun holster.

‘I have prepared the sewing room as, unfortunately, I do require you to take off some of your clothes so that I can take proper measurements’ you stammered out nervously.

‘That’s no problem, Love’ Thomas then smirked before following you into a more private room and, without you having to provide him with further instructions, he disappeared into the small change room to get undressed.

When he came back out, you were surprised that he had undressed all the way down to his undergarments, leaving only his most intimate area for your imagination.

‘Mr Shelby, I didn’t expect you to take off your undershirt’ you said with some embarrassment, causing him to chuckle.

‘Well, you weren’t very clear with your instructions Love. In fact, I even contemplated to take my briefs off’ Thomas smirked as he stood right there in front of you, gazing down into your eyes.

You gasped for a moment and cleared your throat before nodding and asking him to get into position.

He smiled and complied with your request as you reached for the tape and began to take your measurements.

You started on his upper body and took the width of his arms, running the tape across them carefully. Your hands were shaky as the softness of his skin surprised you when, on occasion, you brushed against it.

You took your time and allowed your eyes to gaze over his perfect body before writing down his measurements.

The scent of his skin was intoxicating, like white musk and a hint of smoke. It was manly and yet elegant.

Thomas Shelby stood there, lifted his right arm and then his left, following your instructions while smirking at you. He didn’t feel uncomfortable at all until, all of a sudden, you slipped with one of the pins you were using to lay out the fabric over his upper body.

‘Oh my god, I am so sorry Mr Shelby’ you said, cheeks blushing red but he simply smiled.

‘All good Love, I experienced worse pain than this in my life’ he winked and you bit your lip and nodded.

‘Have you been to war?’ you asked, looking at his many tattoos before apologising for your intrusive question, but Thomas didn’t mind to answer you.

‘Yes’ he simply said. ‘I have been to France’ he then added.

‘Well, I thank you for your service then Mr Shelby’ you said, not knowing what else to say, causing Tommy to chuckle and raise an eyebrow.

You felt nervous around him as you continued your work but watched him nonetheless. Your eyes were seeking out every inch of his body.

‘I have to do your legs now Mr Shelby’ you said and he nodded.

‘Go on then Love’ he said as he smiled at you and, when you took the tape and wrapped it around his upper thighs, you could hear him swallow harshly.

‘Just don’t move up any further, eh. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee that you won’t get an unwelcome surprise’ he chuckled and you were somewhat shocked by his directness.

‘Uhm, right’ you gasped before concentrating on the task at hand and finishing up your measurements on Thomas’s thighs with fidgeting hands.

When you began to take the measurements around his waist, Tommy gasped again and then huffed out a question to satisfy his curious mind.

‘I cannot see a ring on your fingers, so I assume that you aren’t married?’ he then asked you and you blushed again and shook your head.

‘Are you promised to anyone?’ he then asked and you looked up at him with wide open eyes. Was he propositioning you, you wondered?

‘Yes, I am’ you swallowed harshly and with some disappointment.

‘That’s a shame because, if you weren’t, I would have propositioned you and ask you out’ Tommy then smirked and your cheeks began to turn even more red as he was incredibly direct and straight forward with you.

‘It is a shame indeed’ you chuckled before looking down at the tape in your hands again before continuing on with your measurements.

***

After you were done and Thomas got dressed, you put the fabric and your notebook aside while cleaning up your work area.

When you were done, you returned to the front of the shop where Thomas was waiting for you.

‘So, I shall see you next week for the suit fitting then?’ he asked and you nodded.

‘I am in on Wednesday. Does that suit you?’ you asked.

‘That will suit me just fine Y/N. It was a pleasure to meet you’ Tommy then said before leaving your store and, just as he did, you walked back into the sewing room with the intention to cut the fabric for his suit to measure.

When you sat down on the large sewing bench with the fabric and your notebook, you quickly noticed that a page was missing from the book. You had written down two pages with Thomas’s measurements, but only one was inside your book.

You panicked immediately, looking for it everywhere but you couldn’t find it.

You knew that this was a disaster. He was an important customer and your employer would be furious if he found out.

Unfortunately for you, you had no option other than to tell him about your mishap and, with great reluctance, your employer agreed to attend Tommy Shelby’s gambling office and ask him to come back so that you could redo them.

***

Three hours later, your employer returned after running some errands and visiting the offices of Thomas Shelby.

You were nervous and immediately ran out to the front of the store and asked him what Thomas had said.

‘Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t upset at all. He said that you could come to his office and retake the measurements on Monday next week. Although, he has a condition’ your employer explained.

‘A condition to allow me to redo the measurements?’ you asked somewhat surprised.

‘Yes and, I told him that you were promised to a man in London, but he insisted’ your employer then said somewhat nervously.

‘What condition does he have?’ you asked, swallowing harshly as you did.

‘He wants to take you out to dinner Y/N’ your employer then said.

‘Dinner?’ you clarified.

‘Yes, he insisted that it would just be dinner and nothing else. He will pick you up from the shop tomorrow evening at 7 o’clock. I suggest that you wear something nice as Thomas Shelby is a man of great importance here in Birmingham’ your employer then said and you weren’t sure whether you should be worried or excited about Thomas Shelbys’s somewhat unusual demand.

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4dtk · 2 years

Text

warnings: DARK CONTENT, priest!geto, dom!geto, afab!reader, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, reader is legal!!!!! even if she calls her mother ‘mommy’ (bc i do and i’m 20...) suggestive, not smut, sexual tension(???), bit of dry humping/grinding, reader is a virgin and inexperienced, you touch his dick for a moment yes, and yes i am catholic

tags: @multistan-247, @wh0reforlevi

a/n: i just wanted to say how much i love this drawing of geto so much. it’s not the full thing ofc, but the whole composition and symbolism is so good lol

nudging your side, your mother asks you to pay attention to the final blessing, being that your head was the odd one out out of the clasped hands and bowing heads. when the pastor was in presence, silence was the only thing reverberating off the walls of marble, but you? there was someone else that you’d rather look for.

it was impossible to keep your jitters down as your hand makes the sign of the cross — a routine that you didn’t think twice of — before your heart draws you to something, or someone, that you shouldn’t make part of your routine too often. the irony makes your head spin, the sudden movement of the congregation to the chatter of your younger brother only adding to the chaos.

and just like that, God’s blessing of a man manages to come into view, father geto who meets your eyes on the other side through the throngs of people exiting the main church hall. his hair falls over the side of his face like always, half of his long hair pulled back into a bun while the other half flowed freely. and just like always, there’s the gentle, yet all-knowing smile he offers.

father geto, despite being a younger priest, had managed to capture the hearts of many with his sermons. from the older churchgoers who always flocked to him to just chat about anything, to the younger children who wished to grow up to be like him. he was a dream all packed into one.

“i’m… going to ask father geto a question, is that okay, mommy?” your words trail off, afraid that she’ll say again? but with your sibling throwing a fit about his hunger, she hardly notices how your eyes were locked on the vicar. your mother simply nods, calling out to your father who was just too preoccupied with the church’s weekly pamphlet.

keeping your strides measured and collected seemed like the hardest thing in the world, each fall of your foot onto concrete sounding like the bell they ring five minutes before mass. it seems like he’s already waiting for you with fingers curling in and out of his palm in nervousness, unbeknownst to you.

soon your feet take you to geto, who doesn’t even wait for your first touch. under the guise of blessing a rosary, his larger hand holds yours where skin burned like purgatory and you couldn’t deny the comfort of his grasp. no one seems to notice as he tugs you closer and closer that you feel like your lips could—

“another question, my child?” geto teases the name when you were anything but. you were someone fully capable of making decisions, living your own life, and yet you choose to look to him for guidance and advice.

if he asked you to defy religion, you’re certain you’d do it. “ask away, don’t worry.”

gulping, your mouth runs dry, but at least you still remember the things you wanted to enquire about — they weren’t entirely thought up to chat the young, dashing priest up, but knowing father geto’s long-windedness, you could at least spend a bit of time with him. he takes a step back to your dismay, but the quick flicker of his eye to the many people still leaving tells you he wants to be safe.

“i just, wanted to know, father geto, uhm— about the church and their view on tattoos?” he nods encouragingly, the pats on your hand making you lose your train of thought for a second. it’s like a sanctuary, his warm hand, both from the freezing air-conditioning and suffocating Christians.

“my mom has always taught me that our bodies are temples, clean and respectable that we should reject any ink on our skin. is— not even a small, meaningful tattoo is allowed?”

geto gets it, and the way his mind immediately conjures up visions of your body full of tattoos and art is unfavourable for a priest. his faith wavers, but it’s only inevitable when a pretty thing like you is paired with tattoos. he wondered what his art would look like on you.

granted, geto’s little daydream is cut short by your finger tracing over his skin. it tests him, because if you’re doing that, who knows where else can your tender touch go?

it’s like the both of you can’t help but hold your breath, staring into his eyes that swirl with something you couldn’t understand while he takes in your features, strikingly stunning that God only allows him to see them once in a week. you hear him before you hear yourself.

“it’s, a confusing argument, sweetheart.” your eyes widen a little, although a small smile is barely contained. “why don’t we talk somewhere where we don’t have conventionalists breathing down our necks, hm?” the confused, yet excited expression on your face makes the vicar coo inwardly, not before spotting your family approaching as an excuse forms in his mind.

“w—”

“ah, good evening, good evening. your daughter here was just asking a question, weren’t you?” nodding, your mouth jumps at the need to not mention a single thing, but he understands perfectly. “she was just asking if she could request for a confession. well, it’s... awfully late and they’re usually done before—”

your mother interrupts by smacking you gently on the shoulder, her eyes telling of a lecture saved for the confines of your home for bothering such a sweet, pleasant priest for a confession. you can already hear her voice droning on and on: ‘whatever confession you have can wait. we do not bother the pastors.’

his considerate, yet passionate presence seems to serve him well, though, charming your family through and through that your mother immediately recoils at his gentle objection, “no, no, no worries mrs. (l/n). why don’t you head on down first and she’ll be with you soon.”

it feels like there’s something in father geto’s voice that they instantly obey with goodbyes while you only look to him for whatever’s next. were you really going to have a confession now (at least he didn’t sell you out)? were you...

“now, tattoos, was it sweetheart?”

your breath catches in your throat at the name, dripping with intent and well-disguised lust that could be passed off as reverence. a small prompt is muttered through geto’s lips, the intoxicating touch of his hand leaving you way too soon. he leads you back into the church hall where the confessionals stood, noting how there aren’t that many people in the pews.

fire crackles and stained glass windows boasts their artwork with the help of the moonlight. you feel like christine daae being led by the phantom, someone of mystery and allure, surprise evident, however, when you walk right past the booths and the altar. father geto leads you straight into the priests’ offices, only urging you on with the same smile. if anyone sees you, they don’t say anything.

geto is able to pick up the faint chatter of the pastor who’s just finished the evening mass from earlier, manoeuvring you easily past the doors of other offices and with a tug, you’re in the room, taking in the various books that decorate his bookshelf, along with his simple set-up. a click and a groan are what causes you to glance back, however, a stupefied expression stretching across your features. fabric meets the wooden floors, just like your jaw.

“f-father?” your timid call was all you could muster, shameless in how your eyes travel over his broad shoulders and the long hair that cascades down. with the robe forgotten on the floor, you simply take in his tainted, pale skin that would no doubt give your mother a migraine.

his back contained a beautiful back piece, a dragon that travel in loops with insane details and flowers to match by the side. occupying his shoulders and down his arms are other pieces, traditional oriental designs of clouds and winged birds. one step, two step, three, you slowly make your way to him, hands itching to touch him.

“wow...” your awe is adorable to geto that he wants to keep it all for himself, enjoying how your fingers trace over the lines and colours and details. he’s certain he shivers a few times under your touch, reminiscing on the times he would twitch under the tattoo gun. yours is lighter and sweeter, though, and geto nearly curses himself out outwardly at how your hands would feel on him.

geto allows indulgence just this once, head fixed on the crucifix just above his door like a plea before his eyes close, the blankness of his mind slowly filling up with your dainty, soft hands travelling over his used body, maybe even his cock. footsteps outside snap him out of it.

“so? what d’ya say?” another squeak escapes you when he finally turns around, coming face to face with his front that is littered with even more tattoos that you make another sound, akin to a whimper. “you like it, doll?”

father geto fully understood the weight of his name-calling, not missing the way your eyes blink aggressively or the way your chest moves quickly. he’s observant, even more so when you take in his body under the tattoos. from arms to pecs to torso, geto is ripped, giving the tattoos more depth and dimension more than you liked, and yet, you couldn’t complain, not when the priest pulled it off so well.

nodding, you bite your lip excitedly and smile into it but soon your expression falls. “i love it, and i honestly want tattoos to cover my body like yours do, father.”

he sputters, “so your talk about your small, meaningful tattoo was bullcrap?”

you pout, “you’re not one to talk, father geto.”

geto huffs, shrugging off your attempt at joking as an idea pops up. “want to touch more?”

“i— you— are you sure that’s n-not...” your eyes flit between his and the door behind, which you’re sure he’s secured with a click earlier on. the pastor wraps a hand around your wrist, a clear lilt along with amusement lingered in his voice. “where do you want to touch me? here?”

geto moves your hand to his bicep where your hand gently goes over the muscles that reside there. hell is hot for the both of you, but temptation brings you back in each time when he hangs over your lips, taunting and teasing. his eyes enjoy the sight of you as a smirk appears.

“here?” next, his pecs, which feels awfully soft. you can feel his heart through your skin as if it’s asking you to hear its sins. can you feel the blood coursing through my veins? it’s dirtied now because of you, you minx, and yet i can’t say no. you’re awfully adorable, and i want to ruin every part of you.

“or maybe... here?” geto can tell you like this one, feeling the ridges and dips of his six-pack that you gasp again. this one must be new, feeling a roughness that’s mostly recovered, albeit not fully. “i got this one just for you, princess.”

“h-huh, me? why?”

the father uses a free hand to caress your face, “just because. tell me, (y/n), are you okay with this?”

you giggle, “it’s you i’m more worried about, father.”

“such a caring little doll. i’ll be fine, just—” ding! a notification from your family’s group chat that mentions how your baby brother suddenly got hungry, bringing him to the nearest mall to grab a bite. peeking over, his heart settles again knowing you’ll be in his care soon, “well, that’s taken care of.”

the both of you exchange a smile, your mischievous grin widening when geto’s hand moves again, and you have to take in another deep breath when it reaches his underwear and over his bulge.

“what about... here?” geto’s confidence is admirable, but with a little squeeze of his cock, the priest falls apart by your hand. his deep, guttural groan goes straight to your core, and the confidence (more like neediness) seemed to be passed down to you who backs him up into the spacious armchair. settling onto him, you start to grind your throbbing clit onto him, desperate to catch the same feeling you experimented with at home.

“who knew my little sweetheart was such a filthy slut?”

“’m not, father geto,” there’s a pout in your voice, hips now moving at a slower pace, “haven’t even tried touching myself, but yesterday i did. i tried because i knew you would be at the evening mass today.”

geto moans softly at the thought of you looking frustrated and teary-eyed, while you ground your cunt into your fingers or pillow with a need for an orgasm, possibly even crying out his name in the sheets. the hands that were hovering over your skin now fully encourage your hips to their initial pace as he takes in your face which is contorted into pleasure. “so you’re a virgin?”

nodding, you press your body deeper onto his, hips moving on their own. never stopping, because you heard about the clit that most people get that rush from. you heard about stimulating it, whether it’s with an object or your hands, it’ll feel good.

“fuck, you’re going to be the death of me. c’mon, stop for a sec.” geto presses a quick kiss to your puffed-out cheek, expression now serious.

“do you trust me, princess?” instant nod. “good. then, let me take care of you like you deserve. would you want that?” father geto doesn’t let you answer; with one press of his thumb to your clothed clit, you let out a moan you didn’t even know had in you, completely and utterly succumbing to holy hands that chose to sin because of you.

and you, geto will taint and mould as to how he likes it. you’re his favourite, after all.

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