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ladysharmaa · 27 days

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Heir

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: telling Anthony she's with child after facing difficulties getting pregnant

It's been three years since the wedding between Anthony Bridgerton and Y/n. The love between the two was one of the strongest anyone could have ever seen, it was obvious that they were made for each other.

They met in a very unusual way. While Anthony was courting Edwina Sharma, Y/n was seen very close to Benedict, the two of them discreetly courting each other. However, they both quickly realized that the connection between them was better as a friendship than a romantic relationship, where things seemed quite forced and uncomfortable. At the same time, Viscount Bridgerton had also broken up with Edwina after she had doubts on their wedding day.

Y/n remembered that day perfectly. She was sitting next to Benedict and the Bridgerton family on the chairs waiting for Edwina to appear and the wedding to begin. She waved a fan, trying to alleviate the horrible heat in that room. The delay seemed to make everyone nervous, especially Anthony who had drops of sweat falling from his forehead and was speaking hurriedly to his mother.

Finally, the doors opened, but, to everyone's surprise, it wasn't Edwina walking down the aisle, it was Kate Sharma, her sister. She didn't look happy, walking with an air of confidence and a serious expression, her eyes never leaving Anthony. The two exchanged quick words, until Anthony dropped his head and closed his eyes in frustration, but he still nodded and Kate left.

After a few tense seconds, Anthony finally had the courage to look at the people watching the scene and said that the wedding had been cancelled, before leaving the room too, leaving the murmur that formed.

"What a scandal." a lady gossiped with another, the two starting a conversation about what could have happened, some theories being completely ridiculous and that could ruin the family's reputation.

Y/n couldn't help herself and turned to them with a polite but sarcastic smile. "My apologies for interrupting, but the only scandal here is the fact that your son, who decided to be a priest, got so many prostitutes pregnant that only they could fill an entire line of these."

The woman gasped in horror while Benedict, who was listening to the conversation, had difficulty containing his laughter. "You foolish girl, how dare—"

"Excuse me, but I have better things to do than sit here and imagine what could have happened." Y/n got up from her chair, looking at the women one last time before going to try and find Anthony.

Despite being acquaintances, since Y/n was so close to Benedict, the two had never spoken much. However, the woman was still worried about Viscount. When she found him, sitting on the porch floor with his head in his hands, Y/n kept him company, also sitting in silence. From then on, a relationship was formed between the two that quickly became inseparable.

"My love, daydreaming again?" Anthony hummed, breaking Y/n out of his thoughts. The man wrapped his shoulders around her waist and pulled her closer, gently kissing her head. "What are you thinking about?"

"How lucky I am."

"Well, I'm the lucky one. I have a beautiful wife who I love very much. I couldn't live without you." he confessed, causing a blush to appear on her cheeks as it always did when he pronounced his love for her. "I have to go finish some paperwork, but then I'll come see you so we can go visit Daphne's son."

Y/n nodded, giving him a quick kiss and sighing as she watched him go to his office. Daphne had just had her second child, a beautiful baby boy. The couple was going to visit the family so that Y/n could help with whatever her sister-in-law needed while Anthony and Simon were going to entertain the baby's brother, a toodler who demanded a lot of attention.

Even though Y/n loved their children with all her heart, it only reminded her of what she couldn't give Anthony. The couple had been trying to get pregnant since they got married, but without success. Anthony's wife had already cried on his shoulder many times because she couldn't carry the child, her heart breaking every time she started her period.

Even though the Bridgerton man assured her several times that all he needed to be happy was her, Y/n still wanted to give him a heir. She wanted the house to be full of their children's laughter and for them to be able to create a mini version of them, a product of their love.

However, he tried not to occupy his days thinking solely about that. It was enough of all the doctors she had seen who told her that it was her fault, that her womb was not capable of developing a baby. Of course, Anthony, as soon as he heard those accusations and the look of complete heartbreak from his wife, demanded that they leave his house.

Y/n she couldn't take the blame anymore, going into a state of shock and for three days she refused to get out of bed. However, her husband would not accept that. He just wanted her to be happy, even if they never had children.

"We don't need children to be happy, I only need you. We have so many nieces and nephews who can take on my role, and we can take care of them from time to time, I'm sure my siblings wouldn't mind." Y/n remembered Anthony telling her this firmly, his hands grabbing her cheeks as they both had tears in their eyes.

And since then, they've never brought it up again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Lady Bridgerton, are you feeling alright?" one of the maids asked worriedly when she saw Y/n enter the dining room for breakfast, immediately turning paler when she smelled the eggs. "Should I fetch for Viscount Bridgerton?"

She had time to shake her head before running to the nearest bathroom, dropping herself onto the cold floor and emptying the contents of her stomach. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, gagging at the sour taste that remained in her mouth. With unsteady legs, she got up and went to wash her mouth, the maids who entered the bathroom right after her helped her to hold herself upright.

However, she quickly realized that she wasn't finished yet when a new wave of nausea consumed her and she knelt again in front of the toilet. She felt strong hands, which she recognized as Anthony's, caress her face before grabbing her hair.

"Oh, Anthony…" she moaned in discomfort. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Hey, none of that. Come here, love." he comforted, helping turn her around and supporting her against the wall when she was finished. He took a towel and started wiping her mouth.

When Y/n had the strength to open her eyes, she saw her husband's face analyzing her closely, looking for anything that could be wrong. The concern that swam in his eyes made her raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, and he turned slightly to be able to give her a lingering kiss on her palm.

"How are you feeling? I'm going to call the doctor. Are you okay with staying with one of the maids until I get back?"

Y/n held his arm, preventing him from getting up. "No, please don't go. I'm alright now. If this continues, I promise you can call the doctor, this is probably an one time thing. Let's not worry about it."

Anthony sighed, locked in a staring contest with the most important woman in his life. Accepting defeat, but with a serious look that screamed that if that happened again she would see a doctor, the Viscount picked up Y/n, carrying her to their bed.

Laying her down gently and helping Y/n take off her dress, the man pulled the covers up, making sure she was comfortable. Afterwards, he took off his shirt and pants, lying down next to her.

"What are you doing? We can't be in bed already, especially you. It's only morning, we still have many obligations to fulfill."

"No. My wife is not feeling well, and I'm going to take care of her. The paperwork can wait, as well as all my meetings. I just want you to be healthy." Anthony brought her closer to him, Y/n resting her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. "Now, sleep. You need it."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It happened again. More specifically, two more times Y/n threw up her meals. The first time, she was alone and not wanting to worry anyone, she preferred to remain silent. After all, she could still be recovering from some kind of illness. The second time, it was in the presence of her most trusted maid, who she considered a friend, Joanne. And so she begged her not to tell the Bridgerton man about it, claiming she would see someone.

Alone, because in addition to feeling sick, she also realized that her period, which was always regular, should have already arrived. Her first thought was that she was pregnant. But upon thinking better, she questioned this possibility. After so many years of trying and failing, why would she be pregnant now? There must be another explanation.

However, she did not share these possibilities with Anthony because the last thing she wanted was to give him hope only to end up disappointed with her inability to give him a heir. Fortunately, Joanne accompanied her, helping Y/n explain to the doctor why the Viscount wasn't there with her.

And when she left that office, she could feel her legs losing strength. She placed a hand on her chest, starting to find it difficult to breathe in completely, still shocked by what the doctor had said to her.

Pregnant.

She was carrying Anthony's child in her womb, something they thought to be impossible. She was going to be a mother. Even though Anthony always assured her that he was completely happy with just her, Y/n knew that he would love being a father. At the beginning of their marriage, he had revealed to her that he dreamed of their family, their chhildren running through the garden while he chased after them and Y/n watched while sitting under the shade, her hand on her swollen belly.

And, by a miracle, this dream could become reality.

"Lady Bridgerton, are you ready to return to the mansion?" Joanne questioned after Y/n sat down in the carriage, her hands shaking together in her lap. Her gaze was understanding, in case she needed a few more moments alone to process this, but her lips held a small smile.

"I'm going to be a mother." she whispered.

"A wonderful, beautiful mother, I'm sure. Congratulations, Lady Bridgerton." she smiled, feeling enormous happiness for Y/n. She knew how much the couple had suffered. "Shall we return?"

Y/n nodded, no longer trusting her voice to speak. The woman took advantage of the short trip to process everything that was happening and before she knew it she was already in front of Anthony's office door.

With barely controlled excitement, she knocked on the door, waiting for permission to enter. When she heard Anthony's voice, she timidly opened the door, seeing that her husband was gathered with his brothers.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't know your brothers were here. I can come back later."

"Nonsense, love. They can just leave." Anthony said, leaning back in his chair and opening his arms, an invitation for Y/n to come to him. The man, after already having Y/n in his arms, looked at Benedict and Collin, who were looking at him with a smirk. "Did you not hear? I told you to leave."

"Anthony, be nice!"

"It's not a problem, Y/n, we know when we are not wanted. Come on, Benedict, let's leave the lovebirds alone." Collin teased, getting up with his brother and leaving the room, but first, he took Y/n's hand and brought it to his lips. Benedict, for instance, kissed her cheek in a brotherly way. Despite their farewell with Y/n, Anthony was completely ignored by his brothers.

"Did you need something?" the man asked, putting all of his attention on Y/n, who began to fidget with her fingers nervously.

"Actually, I have to tell you something. I went to the doctor today…"

"What? Y/n, why didn't you tell me? Did you feel bad again? Nauseous? What did the doctor say? Are you okay?"

"Calm down, my love. I'm better than fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about being sick again, but I didn't want to worry you." she admitted, feeling guilty that Anthony was feeling precisely what she didn't want. "Well, I received some very interesting news."

"Please, just tell me what's wrong. I can't bear not knowing if something is wrong with you." he muttered with a pained look, as if he felt physical pain when thinking about the possibility of Y/n being hurt or unwell.

"Anthony…" she said his name with so much love that he shuddered. "I'm pregnant."

A silence formed in the room. Anthony took so long to react, just looking at her intensely as if he didn't know what was true or not, that Y/n began to feel worry invade her system. Was he not happy? Did he not want a child with her anymore?

"W-What?" Anthony finally managed to whisper, his heart having stopped as soon as he heard those words. "You're pregnant? With my child?"

"Well, obviously." Y/n rolled her eyes. "Are you happy?"

"Happy? My love, I'm more than happy. I love you so much. And I love our child too." the man kissed her fiercely, needing to convey all his love and adoration for her in that kiss.

He was addicted to his wife's lips, and now that he knew she was carrying his child, something animalistic was released inside him. Without giving any warning, he grabbed Y/n and twirled her around, without ever taking his lips off hers. Even so, Y/n giggled against them, circling her hands around his neck and holding on tight.

When her feet touched the floor, the Viscount knelt in front of her, his hands resting hesitantly on her stomach. He looked at Y/n in permission, who just nodded in encouragement and placed her hand on his brown hair, stroking his scalp.

Very gently, Anthony kissed his wife's still flat stomach. "Hello, you. I'm your father and I love you and your mother very much. You two are my entire life."

And the two stayed like that for the rest of the day, moving to the bedroom where Anthony continued to talk to Y/n's belly while exchanging passionate kisses with her. A beautiful new stage had begun in their lives, and they couldn't wait to meet their heir.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #collin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x female reader

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yan-maid-cafe · 2 months

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Yandere Couple

Imagine being in a love triangle with a yandere couple...

You had known Julia since you two were in college. Sharing the same major and sitting next to eachother in class. The two of you became fast friends, likely due to her friendly demeanor and affectionate behaviour. Though you never quite realized the longing glances she had whenever she looked at you.

It was at a party late at night that both of you had met Thai drinking with his friends. Him approuching the both of you after chugging some liquid courage. Him and Julia quickly hit it off, the two laughing happily with eachother. It seemed like a match made in Heaven, nobody needed to know who he was really approuching that infamous night.

The two seemed perfect for eachother, their relationship moving fast. Before you knew it the two were getting married, you sitting in the crowd during the ceremony. Though when the priest spoke about anybody objecting the marriage, you couldn't get rid of the faint feeling that somebody was looking at you intensely. But that was impossible, why would anyone think you'd interupt your best friends' wedding?

The two were the perfect couple for the first year, always being with each other. Julia became a stay at home wife while Thai pursued his dream job, all was well. Until their second year, suddenly the two just never seemed able to be alone together. You were invited to everything involving the pair, from simple things like dinners and game night. To things you really had no place being a part of, like vacations and romantic dates. It was starting to get uncomfortable, odd how obsessed the pair seemed to be in including you in every little aspect of their lives. As if you were a part of their marriage.

Yet another one of these nights arrive, the couple inviting you over to their house after work. Begging you to have dinner since you were "so busy" and "barely had anytime for them". So you agreed just to get them off your back. Knocking on the front door, Julia quickly pulled you inside, urging you towards the table so the three of you could have dinner. Giving you a glass of your favorite liquor, talking about how you "just need to loosen up".

Before you knew it one glass became two, which became 3, which became 4. And suddenly you were halfway down the bottle, barely able to stay awake as Thai led you into the guest bedroom. Lying you down on the bed as the pair crawled in as well, sandwhiching you between them both. Thai wrapping his arms around your waist as Julia buries her face in your chest. The pair made eye contact as lovesick smiles spread across their faces, speaking in mushy baby tones.

"It's okay Y/n, just fall asleep. We'll be here when you wake up. We'll always be here..."

"That's right. To think you almost drove us apart, but those days are over. We can all be one now. One happy throuple..."

"We can finally be happy now, Y/n"

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #female yandere #yandere oc

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riot-ghost · 1 year

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Started a new train of thought following ghosts and things, and so here's my head cannon that the people of the Infinite Realms have a religious following and how one Daniel Fenton accidentally became the human priest.

"What the fuck do you mean I'm a priest?" Danny stared blankly at the Clockwork.

"I mean that you've become the priest of the Infinite Realms." Clockwork says. "By teaching your friends your following, they've decided to convert and follow with you. They believed what you're following is good and right, so there's human followers to our rituals and beliefs."

"I thought they were just respectful and curious! I don't know how to be a priest? Is there a way to revoke it?"

"Not really." Clockwork shrugs. "It seems fitting. Her Infinite lost her king with you, of course she'd name you her priest. I recommend opening a sanctuary,con holy ground. Gotham would fit."

"Holy shit, no, Clockwork, I'm not going to be a priest! I dont-"

"Damnit." Danny stood in front of the new building he'd just purchased.

It's easy to get it set up for outside use, but following the ways of Infinite, making it sacred ground, that was much harder. He spends weeks purifying the pollution and smog, and even longer doing the required rituals and cleansings.

He doesn't hold masses. He holds classes, every day at seven, to teach about the ghosts and Ancients. He cooks dinner for everyone who comes, and everyone is welcome. He's even told everyone they're welcome to just come and take the food and leave.

Gothamites come to find that if the city has been gassed, the sanctuary has clean air. It remains unharmed by the villains, all the way until one murderous clown declares religious exemption while getting arrested.

It's a very public ordeal and Danny hosts a press conference, three police officers and Batman are present. Joker is in cuffs. "I tell anyone that everyone is welcome to our religion. And if the Joker wishes to be, he will be. Is this what you want?" Danny asks, staring down the murderous clown.

"Oh, yes!" The Clown grins back. Danny pulls a gun, pressing it to the side of his head. Everyone is on edge, and Batman's reaching for his belt.

"For the two thousand, eight-hundred and ninty-three lives you have taken, for the nine-hundred and seventy-four children you have brutally killed. The Infinite Realm does not take kindly to murderers, to terrorist." Danny speaks, unwavering. "For your crimes against the Infinite Realms, for your crimes against humanity, and for all those burdened fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, for everyone you have taken, for those you have left behind, you shall face judgement upon the high council of the Infinite Realms upon open court. While there, you shall follow every law, to the letter of the law, or you shall face immediate denial to a trial. You will not be given a lawyer. You will not be given a clean death." Danny lowers his gun, pulling out a knife. He kneels, and rips the air behind the Joker a illuminated green portal is torn.

"From personal experience, there's things much worse than death that you can face. From personal opinion, I hope you face every fucking one before you're torn apart." Danny pushes Joker through the portal, and it closes. He mutters a prayer, standing tall. He retakes his position at the podium.

"For anyone who has faced the Joker, who have had people taken from them, had their own lives taken from them, who have so much as passed him on the street, come to the Realms' Sanctuary on North Blvd. 7308. Join the trial to have him purged, have him face the righteous punishment for the horrendous crimes he has commit." Danny bows.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #danny fenton #dc x dp #jason todd #batfam #danny phantom crossover #bruce wayne #jokers going to die #priest danny au

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fangsandfeels · 8 months

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The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion brainrot #dnd elves are strange #feel free to correct me if i goofed up #because it's quite likely i goofed up

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wordsbymae · 3 months

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Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere prompts #yandere x female reader #yandere male x reader #oc yandere #warrior yandere #breeding tw #tw sa #fem!reader #soldier yandere

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katakaluptastrophy · 3 months

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You know when you're at a dinner party with God and things start to get...weird...? It's Maundy Thursday, and it's time for more Bible study for fans of weird queer necromancers!

It's currently Holy Week, the week where liturgical Christians reenact the events of Jesus' death and resurrection in real time. And today, it's Maundy Thursday, which commemorates the Last Supper, where Jesus ate with his friends before he was crucified.

Before we get to the Locked Tomb, what's so special about the Last Supper?

There are actually a few significant things that happen during the Last Supper, but this is where Jesus introduces the concept of communion:

Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood. - Matthew 26:26-28

This isn't actually the first time Jesus has told his followers they will need to literally eat him:

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. - John 6:53-56

If you're thinking that sounds a bit intense, you're not alone - the Bible says that "many" of his disciples left after being told that they were apparently going to have to eat Jesus to be saved and resurrected.

While many Protestant denominations take this symbolically, Catholicism teaches transubstantiation: that when the priest prays over the bread and wine at mass, they really do become Jesus' body and blood.

With this in mind, let's circle back to necromancers:

"Overseas to Corpus. (She likes the word corpus; it sounds nice and fat.)"

This is probably Corpus Christi College, Oxford (named after the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, where the church celebrates the real presence of Jesus in the eucharist). The symbol of the college is a pelican - there's even a fabulously gilded pelican atop the sundial in their main quad.

What do pelicans have to do with the eucharist? Quite a lot, actually... The pelican is a really old symbol for Jesus, because it was believed to feed its young on its own flesh and blood in times of famine. The pelican on the Corpus Christi sundial is pecking at its own chest.

The pelican, like Jesus, was believed to give its own body to save those it loved.

Okay, so we've talked about Jesus, and weird cannibal birds, but why is this relevant to necromancers?

Specifically, the necromancer, the Necrolord Prime. John Gaius styles himself as "the god who became man", echoing Jesus as "the word became flesh". His entire pastiche of divinity is a sort of bootleg Catholicism. But while Catholicism posits Jesus' offering of his own body as foundational to the salvation and resurrection of humanity to eternal life, John's godhood relies the exploitation of other's bodies as the foundation of an empire of eternal death.

I've mentioned before in discussing Lyctorhood, how vampires have been understood to represent a sort of inversion of the eucharist because instead of consuming Christ's blood to receive eternal life in heaven, they consume other people's blood for an cursed eternal life on earth. John, and the Lyctors who followed him, gained power and eternal life from the consumption, body and soul, of another person.

In Catholic theology, Jesus offered his own body to degradation and death for the eternal salvation of humankind, but John forcibly consumes someone else's in service of his own apotheosis and immortality, dooming humanity in the process. He wants to be a Catholic flavoured god, but without the suffering that entails. But he's perfectly willing to outsource that suffering to others.

There's something just achingly awful about Alecto liking the feel of the word "corpus" - "body" - when she so hates the body that John constructed for her. John describing Alecto as "in a very real way" the mother of humanity and the mother pelican on the Corpus sundial rending her own flesh for her children. John forcing the earth into a personification of femininity and playing Jesus on another's sacrifice. His daughter, unwillingly trapped in her own corpse walking around with the wounds of her significant self-sacrifice like the resurrected Christ but yet again another body exploited by John in support of his performance of godhood. It brings to mind a very different fantastical engagement with Catholicism, where in the Lord of the Rings Tolkien - riffing on St Augustine - suggested that evil cannot create, it can only mock and corrupt. The ethics of The Locked Tomb may be messier than that, but there's something indicative in how John shies away from his creative powers - his abilities to grow plants, and manipulate earth and water - in favour of his dominion over death.

The metaphysical world of The Locked Tomb is clearly not intended to be the same as that of Catholicism. But with hindsight, perhaps John was onto something when he was surprised that he didn't "get the Antichrist bit" from the nun too.

John isn't the Antichrist. But he is, thematically, anti-Christ.

If we're talking about John and Jesus, there's also, of course, the question of Resurrection. But we've got to go through Hell and back before we get there on Sunday...

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #john gaius #alecto the first

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str4wbaeby · 3 months

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𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓭𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵏ ᵖʳⁱᵉˢᵗ ˣ ᵈᵉᵐᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Asael was a man of true devotion. the soft-spoken priest often spent majority of his time worshipping the gods and goddesses in the tranquil halls of his church. with a soul as pure as morning dew, his life solely revolved around the sacred rituals, the chants that echoed through the halls and the quiet moments of communion with the divine.

but never in a million years did Asael expect himself to fall in love with you. how dare you, a mere demon, seduce someone like him? steal his heart away from him, so easily, as you lurked amidst the cold shadows of his sanctuary?

in the clash of light and darkness; devotion and desire, Asael found himself torn himself between his sacred vows and the undeniable pull of love that defied all conventions. your sinful touches, sultry voice and sweet words were so foreign to him. melting his cold facade away as they penetrated deep through his heart. it made him yearn for more, yearn for you. it was as if you reached over to him with that coyingly sweet smile on your pretty face, which easily overtook his senses; harshly ripped his poor heart out of his ribcage just to leave a hole which could only be fulfilled by your presence. your existence became everything to him as he felt his reality slowly crumble at your feet, suffocating Asael in unknown feelings of devotion and passion.

he kneeled before you, as his pale blue eyes fluttered open to meet your fiery ones. ivory locks cascaded over his face like a silken waterfall, as you watched him look up to you with those azure eyes. his gaze resembled the clear sky above, as his longing for you was evident behind that soft gaze.

"why do you persist on torturing me with your presence? Can't you see I've already fallen so low?" Asael croacked, lips quivering in anticipation of the long awaited answer.

"but darling, why can't you see? You belong to me" you chuckled as you saw the desperation in his eyes, enjoying the view of your beloved little priest kneeling gracefully before you as he finally submitted to the burning desire in his heart. he was completely at your mercy and you both knew that.

Asael knew you were right. there was no use in denying his true feelings, now. he knew he had fallen for you. he had fallen so deep in your web, there was no path of atonement. the only thing his heart desired now was your love, as he worshipped you like your sole loyal devotee. you were the only thing that mattered to him now; the only thing that kept him sane.

#obsessive love #yancore #male oc #sub male character #dom reader #x reader #reader insert #gn reader #yandere priest #yandere vent #yandere imagines #yandere male x you #yandere scenarios #sub yandere #yandere #mochiii.writes

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bunnysbrainrot · 3 months

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Sinners - Teaser

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual content, teasing, more kinks and details to come with the full version, nothing too warning-worthy right now?

Summary: Disguised as a priest and nun on a case, time alone with Sam back at your motel is everything but holy. The taboo of your situation has Sam dealing with some… impure thoughts. Will Sam be able to contain himself?

In the past few weeks you and the Winchesters uncovered some suspicious deaths in a remote area of Georgia. The locations of the tragedies spanned over 50 miles apart, meaning that the team had to split up to cover more ground. Dean had split from you and Sam two days ago, and the night before in the motel had been fairly normal. It seemed like Dean did this on purpose; you had drunkenly admitted to him of your affection for his younger brother.

Whether or not Sam knew of this, you had no clue. And now in your nun getup, it was all too fitting that you began to pray that Sam was unaware. The two of you calmly made your way past the yellow police tape, preparing warm smiles for a victim’s family.

Sam knocked on the door, letting out a bated breath. Weren’t nuns supposed to dress modestly? Your outfit was the proper attire, but the way it hugged your curves left too much to Sam’s imagination. It was his turn to pray that it didn’t stir too much in him, to let him keep his composure.

An older man answered the door, his expression easing at the sight of your attire. Turns out this costume was better received than you thought. You had to channel your tone and proper verbiage before speaking.

“Apologies for showing up unannounced, Mr. Peters. I’m Father Jeremy, and this is our sister from a local church.” Sam waved a hand for you to introduce yourself.

You chose to use your name, seeing that this was your first nun-appearance.

“We’re here on behalf of the church to offer support for your family, but we also have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”

Hopefully there were no questions about the nearest Catholic church, otherwise this whole façade would crumble. Mr. Peters’ face only softened further.

“I’m glad you’re here, Father, Sister,” he addressed you with a sad smile, “Please, come in.”

Sam stepped in first, using a beckoning finger behind him to have you follow him. The house was modest, but eloquently decorated. You recalled the murder that had happened, that brought you to this town, and shuddered. Mr. Peters’ daughter had been brutally murdered and discarded in a creek, signs indicating the presence of a vampire. Their daughter had been missing for two weeks before the time of death, which is what you and Sam aimed to discover.

“Mr. Peters, we are part of a youth outreach program at the church. Our aim is to help troubled youth, with restorative services and social connection. We were wondering if your daughter had any odd behaviors before she went missing. Perhaps she became more secluded?”

The man looked confused at first, “Odd behavior?”

Sam gave a small nod, “We notice that teenagers in need of help oftentimes become more distant with their families. Our goal is to provide better services to our youth, which does include finding the source issue.”

Mr. Peters have a small background of his daughter, admitting that she had become distant with the family. Not just that, but her anger had only worsened, amongst several harmful habits. It wasn’t uncommon for teens to become immersed in the occult and all things dark, but being surrounded by the wrong people can lead to harmful connections.

“I see,” Sam started, “and do you know what kind of people she was surrounding herself with?”

Another confused look from Mr. Peters.

You added, “This way, we’re able to identify warning signs - things to be wary of as our youth members meet new people.”

This seemed to clear things up, bringing out a detailed recount of his daughter’s recent social group. But, their social media had been recently deleted, preventing the family from getting their closure. As far as they knew, their daughter had made new friends, ran from home, and was found brutally murdered.

Sam’s eyes darted to you when you shifted in your seat, the fabric of your black dress sliding gracefully along your thighs. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but seeing you dressed up like this sent his mind spinning. The last thing he should be thinking of is taking you dressed like this, but he couldn’t shake it. His mind raced of scenarios the two of you could create, each one dirtier than the last.

But right now, the task at hand was covering the tightness of his pants. He leaned forward, the broad muscles of his arms flexing beneath his black shirt. Blush creeped onto your cheeks, much to the attention of Mr. Peters, who looked at you with concern.

“Sister, are you feeling alright?”

You nodded and gave a small wave, “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little warm is all. I apologize.”

Mr. Peters stood, “No need to apologize, let me get you some cold water. I’ll only be one moment.”

The room had gone oddly quiet paired with Sam’s intent stare at your face. You turned to find a concerned Sam inspecting you fully.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked softly.

A slight nod, “Yeah, it’s just stuffy in this outfit.”

“Well, once we’re back at the motel we can get you out of it.”

A beat later Sam realized how that sounded. He tried to backtrack, but Mr. Peters had already returned with your glass of water, which you gratefully sipped on. It took everything in your power to resist the images that came to mind. Sam’s hands roaming your body, stripping that baggy dress off of your body, his mouth finding every nook and cranny of your neck.

Sam seemed to have taken over the conversation for the last few moments before standing. Mr. Peters had already given a short list of his daughter’s friends, and their usual hang-out spots. Your attention snapped back to reality; you placed the water glass down with a small thank you, being pulled up by Sam.

His hand could practically wrap the entirety of your arm, his grip stable and warm. Goosebumps rose on your arms, brushing against the tough fabric of your dress. The air outside carried the comfort of fall, the breeze being cool and refreshing on your hot cheeks.

At the car, Sam reached for your door to open it for you, something completely new to the both of you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes. The movements he made to reach the handle had pulled your bodies dangerously close, fully brush against his chest, pressed into the car. A inexplicable scenario that would raise a few eyebrows, for certain.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to trip on your dress,” breathed Sam.

Honestly, he was thankful for the little slip up - being this close to you had been a wish of his, but there had never been any excuse for it to happen. Your focus shifted from his soft, hazel eyes down to his parted lips. Sam’s attention shifted to your lips, lowering to your chest for a split second. A selfish move on his part, but the damage had already been done.

Your hand fumbled for the door handle, fingers sliding over his own. The two of you shared another longing glance before getting you into the car. Sam tucked in loose bits of your dress so the door wouldn’t snag on them.

“Alright, hands and feet it, watch out,” he whispered. You noticed how his hands fumbled more than usual, surely due to the nerves. Perhaps you had been reading this wrong, maybe you had taken things too far? Maybe you had overstepped and embarrassed him?

“Thank you,” you replied, giving him a genuine smile. Sam’s cheeks flushed, unmistakably a sign that maybe your anxieties been just that. Simple anxieties from overthinking this whole thing.

Now settled in the car, the two of you made the trip back to the motel. After stepping inside you beelined for the bathroom.

At least, until Sam’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, could I talk to you about something?”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised. You’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“What’s up?”

With the silence in the room, you took the cue to sit on the bed. Sam towered in comparison, his lean physique defined by the lamplight.

His voice softened, “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to get that close, I-“

“Sam, it’s okay,” you cut him off with a laugh, “don’t worry about it. I wasn’t bothered by it.”

He relaxed his shoulders. Sam began to dig through his bag for another set of clothes.

“You look good as a priest, by the way. You sell the bit nicely,” you stated.

What you said made his heart skip a beat. Was that a compliment, or just conversation? Sam couldn’t tell, so he turned to you once more with a goofy grin on his face.

“Thanks,” his expression darkened as his eyes raked you over, “You look good as a nun.”

There was no mistaking it - he was taking his time looking over you. Your breath hitched in your throat when he turned, leaned casually against the desk your bags laid on. You transfixed on the way his hands moved around his belt buckle. Mildly fiddling, but you couldn’t help but imagine him following through.

“Not my best outfit, but thank you,” you replied. Sam pushed away from the desk, slowly stepping toward the bed where you sat, tense with every step.

“I would agree there, you’ve worn better,” he commented.

You head snapped up to meet his eyes. A surprise note of flirtation filled your voice.

“Okay, so what’s my best outfit, then?”

He scoffed, “We playing twenty questions?”

You pointed to your outfits, smirking proudly at him, “Look at our getup, man, it’s like a confessional.”

A bright laugh came out of Sam; he tilted his head back as he thought.

“My answer isn’t exactly… appropriate.”

“Sam,” you laughed, “Confessional. You gotta tell me.”

He let out a groan before lowering his head, steadily giving you his answer, “Your dark jeans, and that long sleeve shirt. The, um… the one with the v-neck, you wore it almost every day over winter.”

“And that was inappropriate?”

“It’s why I like it that’s inappropriate.”

“Okay, then, why do you like it?”

The last thing you expected was for Sam to close the distance. He stepped until he was directly ahead, arms crossed over his chest as he locked eyes with you.

“It made your ass look nice.”

His tone was surprisingly serious, like he had been thinking of this answer for a while.

“Hugs your body in the right ways. And it makes your, well, chest… look nice.”

Sam humored your shocked expression but pushing things further. If you could dish it out, he could dish it back.

“What’s my best outfit?”

As you collected yourself, Sam stepped closer, bringing a hand to your cheek. He lifted your head, hai thumb grazing over your cheek.

“It’s a confessional. You have to tell me,” he joked, earning a slight glare from you. That sour face melted away when Sam placed his hand beneath your chin. He tilted your head back to have you look at him.

Shit.

“Jeans,” you breathed, “V-neck black shirt.”

Sam leaned in, brushing his lips across your cheek. The closeness set your skin ablaze, each trailing lip and finger sending shivers up your spine.

“Is that all?” Sam whispered.

His eyes met yours once again, a startling seriousness lurking inside. You pushed past the shyness of your answer. The honesty could break the tension that had building all this time.

“Pajama pants… no shirt. When you just get out of the shower.”

Sam’s lips curled into a satisfied smile before planting a slow kiss to your cheek. He moved gradually to your jawline, sprinkling chaste kisses until his lips hovered over yours.

“Have you wanted this?” he asked.

Your frustration was intangible - a bottle that had been shaken too much, and ready to blow. He was centimeters, millimeters away from giving you what you’d truly wanted. The silence between you signified the utter defiance to give him this so easily.

“Confessional,” Sam’s voice reverberated against you, but he offered nothing to your pleading lips, “tell me, little nun, have you thought about this? Wanted my lips on yours?”

A small whine escaped you as Sam’s hand lowered to your throat, pressing softly to the tender flesh. The loss of blood flow muddled your thoughts into complete ecstasy, with no urgency to regain control. With just one move, it was clear to Sam that you were undoubtedly his.

You gave him a small nod. A low growl thundered in his chest before pressing into you further, laying you flat on the bed. Locks of chestnut hair framed your face, with a breathy Sam hovering his mouth over your neck.

“Nodding doesn’t count. You gotta use your words, sweetheart.”

Amidst the constriction on your throat you nodded and choked out a small, "Yes."

Sam's growing smile is all you need to know you've satisfied something deeper within him. Darkness floods his eyes seeing you like this, utterly at his will under his touch. If he'd known sooner that this would be the outcome, he'd have bought that nun outfit ages ago.

"That's better," he whispered.

------

Hi everyone! I know it's just a teaser for now, but I wanted to show you something I've been working on! I've also been pretty busy with work and writing for my book series, so things have been a bit busy for sure haha

I love you all, and I keep an eye out for the full version of Sinners!

#supernatural #spn fandom #supernatural smut #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #bunny writes #spn smut #smut writing #smut

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