#the full name of the church is a bit much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jujutsukgojo · 1 month

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My gifts to you

feitan portor x reader

Summary: You knew him for years for only moments at a time. Yet, you take it upon yourself to love and mourn him anyway, even when the world won't. tw: light smut, slight yandere feitan, spoilers, mentions of murder, light angst, fluff(?), injuries, cheating, time skips an: didn't mean for it to be this long. Feitan is a bit tricky for me but oh well :) kind of inspired by criminal minds 'no way out'. 10.8k

“If you tie it like this, it should stay, okay?” You tap the boy’s foot. Although he is smaller than you in height, his feet are bigger. It’s quite comical but you don’t dare laugh. In this blasted city, you’d be bound to die for such a thing. Especially if you laugh at someone with crazy hair and carries a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

He says something in a foreign language that you can’t understand. If you are correct, it may be inverted Japanese. In the books that one kid collects, there is a country, Japan, where the common language originates. Since the common language isn’t his mother tongue, it makes you wonder where he’s from and why he’s here.

The boy stands up to his full, but short, height. You sit on random rubble and look up at him, waiting for what he’ll do next. Will he call over Phinks or even bring Uvogin? He hangs out with Phinks mainly but who knows these days.

Instead of swinging the bat at you or calling over his friends, he pats your head awkwardly. You don’t make any sudden movements or noises. The boy leaves right after. A sigh escapes your lips after he leaves you behind.

What's his name again? Feitain?

__________

In your hut, you slightly stir the food that sizzles in the pan you found. It’s rare to come across tomatoes and eggs but you managed this time. The smell is mouth watering. You hope no one else can smell it.

As much as you want to live elsewhere, this is what you settle for at the moment. In another world, you’d be out of this city and somewhere clean and safe. Like the church or something. No, even better than the church. You’ve heard of the outside where there are bright flashing lights and diamonds and pearls on people’s necks. There are flowers of all colors out there. Different shapes, smells, and meanings, they’re all beautiful. You hear that food isn’t scavenged but bought or given to people without a price.

People said they’ve seen the safety of children your age that play without a care. There are parents for the lost kids and doctors for the injured. Clean clothes and showers on the regular. You can even see the sun clearly and the big, round moon that doesn't bring out the wolves in men.

There are pastors and priests that don’t turn people away, either. Hell, you have even wondered if there were schools there that allow everyone to get in. You're sure that you are reading and doing math wrong. How embarrassing.

Finally done, you place the food on a plastic plate you found. You made sure to wipe the grime off the plate and rinsed it with clean water before using it. Even though you can just eat out of the pan, you want to seem sophisticated like the outside. They don't eat out of pans or use dirty plates.

The food steams and is welcoming. Without a lot of utensils, you pick at it with your hands. It burns at first but you’re too hungry. The flavor bursts in your mouth. Even without the proper seasonings, it’s still heaven. You haven’t eaten in a while so you’ll take what you can get.

Suddenly, the boy, Feitan, enters your hut. You gasp and protectively cover your food. He brings his foot out. His shoe, which he stole, is untied again. You swallow the substance and point out, “I taught you how to tie them.”

“Tie.”

“I taught you.” You set your plate down.

“Tie.” You roll your eyes and pat your thighs. He walks over to you and places his dirt caked shoe on your lap. Slowly, you tie them.

“There, see? Come on now, you need to learn. A little boy can’t grow without tying his shoes.”

“I’m not little boy.” You give a breathy chuckle. “Of course you are, honey.”

He leans in close to your face. “I’m older than you.”

...He does hang out with Phinks, who is a couple years older than you. In fact, it is rare to see them apart. Is it possible that it’s true? Is Phinks the type to be friends with someone who is younger?

Curious, you ask, “Then why are you so short?” His eyes widened in shock. Then, strangely, he laughs while patting your head harshly. Studying his face revealed what looks like the beginning of a sinister smile.

He looks at your plate and sits down in front of you. You’re both on the dirt floor.

“Give me.” You scoff and snap at him. “No! Find your own!”

The little beast decided that the two of you should ‘share’. He smacks on his food, making you want to punch him repeatedly. He’s gaunt and bony, but not really bad like last time. His face has a tiny bit of roundness to it.

“Stop staring.” He inhales a tomato. “You look better than last time.”

“Better?” He cocks his head to the side. The remnants of the tomato smeared a little on his cheek.

“Yeah, healthier.” He stares at you for a second. “Thanks.” His accent is thick, and you still can’t place it. Nevertheless, you understand. Afterwards, much to your surprise, he sleeps in your hut now that his belly is full. Satisfied and strangely not afraid, you follow suit. It’s nice to have a friend, however strange.

You are barely awake, sleep still heavy in your eyes, when you see him pop up. Drool is crusted on his cheek, and he rubs his eyes. He yawns and then spots you next to him. Feitan eyes the entry of the hut then back at you. He puts the only cover you have on you then pets your head.

Before he leaves, he places his bat in your hand. Feitan secures the entry as he exits the hut.

_____________

It’s been years since you and Feitan have talked. You've gotten familiar with him but when Sarasa had died in such a disrespectful and gruesome way, he withdrew. In the meantime, you waited for him and studied a power you discovered. No matter the eyes that were always on you, you didn’t care about the mysterious and hidden audience.

You don’t know what it’s called but it started when you witnessed some kid about to get her ass handed to her by some thugs. The man had moved a pair of scissors without using his hands. They aimed right towards her and in a moment of instinct, you rushed to push her out of the way. Unfortunately, the scissors stabbed you in the shoulder.

It was then did you feel the rush of a force so strong, that it knocked everyone away from you. A faint white light that glowed from your skin that only your eyes could see. As you looked around in shock, you saw that same glow coming from that man and his friends.

You were gasping when you fell to your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t be here!” The girl your age ran for her life and left you behind. In a moment of fear, you call out to her to help you. You were so afraid; you couldn't tell if the screams were hers or yours. Given the situation, you were too rattled, terrified and hurt, to focus.

The men shook for a second then got up to face you. The blood from your shoulder wasn’t stopping its flow. Crimson red stained your clothes and the ground. It was all so strange, such an unusual feeling of adrenaline that you couldn’t help but memorize. Almost as if the world had finally made sense. Every single thing became so much clearer to your dismay.

The men came towards you with malicious intent. While putting pressure on your injury, you managed to kick one of their legs, causing them to buckle and hurt his knee. He screamed in agony.

“G-get away!” You try to stand. The press of your hand on the wound isn’t helping. Is it supposed to bleed this much? It hit your shoulder, but did it nick something?

You need to stop it, to heal and get away from them. In this city, people like you are in danger from men like them. If you don’t get away, you’ll end up like Sarasa. She was never really close to you. She was a nice girl who always looked for video tapes, so you'd help her from time to time. Yet, her death scarred everyone since it was so close to home. And now, you no doubt are facing the exact same situation. Wrong place, wrong time.

Same fate.

You fell back on the ground and looked at the sky. It has always been so dirty, just like the city due to pollution. Still so young, you know you won’t see what it really looks like. In the corner of your eye, you spot something green. A small clover with four leaves.

One time, an old man told a story of how four-leaf clovers are a sign of good luck. By the intense feeling and pressure of your eyes, you know it’s not true. Pain in all ways makes tears fall from your eyes. Lips wobbling at how unfair everything is and that you will never see the sun. The outside must really be heaven, and for someone so young who hasn’t committed a sin, you are wondering if you can go.

Suddenly, flowers that you never knew blossomed around you. The soft petals touched your filthy skin and got rid of the aches. The blood on your shoulder faded from view as well as the pain. A soft and beautiful hum whispered in your ear. You truly believed it to be in your head, an imagination of paradise as you leave. Heaven, they call it. You must be close to the outside world then.

This must be it, you thought. There was no pain from a strike or fear. Just closed eyes and peace. Something you know you couldn’t get in the atrocious city.

It ends. You were shocked as the beautiful flowers disappeared. Heaven, would you reject someone?

The men didn’t hurt you. The one whose knee was broken was able to move his leg. His red hair kind of glowed in the sun, and brown eyes were wide. He muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and walked away without a limp. His friends followed.

After that, you had realized that your ability wasn’t anything like scissors or something scary. It was to heal and be healed.

Although after immediately learning this, you didn't go out of your way to find the source of the screams in the direction the people went. First was the girl, then the group of men. After what you went through, it didn't seem like a good idea.

Feitan, somehow, got wind of it. Now in his later teen years you both estimate, he sits still and points to his arm. There’s a gnarly gash oozing blood. You wonder how he’s not feeling this and if he is, how he isn’t even fazed.

You gently pick up his arm and inspect it. He's thin but has clear definition in his arms. You haven’t seen him in so long that you are surprised by his growth. Hell, he’s taller now. Still short, but at least he grew.

In a jar, you take a premade petal. This is a way for you to save energy and reach people when you physically can’t tend to. Acting as a pill, you make sure that people can get infections out. For some reason, illnesses and infections are particularly tricky and tiring for you.

“Eat this, Feitan.” He frowns. “No.” You sigh. “It’s infected. You need to eat this so I can heal it right.”

“It’s not.”

Rolling your eyes you bring his wound to his face. “This, this is infected. It's literally oozing pus.” How long did this go on? Was he really that hesitant to just come and see you?

He growls and takes the delicate petal and places it in his mouth. “Stop pouting.”

“Not pouting. It’s nasty.” He’s not wrong. It has a bitter taste and when chewed, a slimy texture. The color of the disintegrating petal leaves a stain in the mouth as well. If not for the benefits, no one would even bother. They'd be just as offended as Feitan.

The pus stops and clears up. “Alright, this’ll leave a scar.”

You blow on your hand so that flowing blossoms surround him. Beautiful shades of pink and white go through his hair. With a gentle caress, you see the flurries touch his wound. It starts to encourage his own healing.

As much as you want to do the full thing, you’re tired. All day you’ve been working and collecting payments. Not to mention facing the disappointment of them being useless. You want to kick yourself for not getting paid first. But the sight of those grateful people and healed kids softens your heart.

Soon, it stops once the injury becomes manageable. You’re about to wrap it when a hand stops you. “What’s this?”

“Feitan, I'm tired. You caught me at a bad time.” You try to move your hand but he stops you. He's a lot stronger than you remember. “Heal.”

His fluency isn’t the greatest still.

“I’m tired! Just let it heal the rest of the way.” No matter how much you try to yank your hand away, his grip is too strong. “Please, Feitan...”

Surprisingly, he lets go and from what you can see, the subtle white glow appears and heals him the rest of the way, leaving small flames. “Feitan...what was that?”

He rolls his eyes and plops down on a chair. He says nothing and just relaxes, or at least that’s what he’s trying to make it seem like. It has been a while since you’ve seen him, but that doesn’t make you blind to his behaviors…sometimes.

“As a transmuter, I can heal a little by using enhancer,” He looks at you suspiciously. “You know nothing about nen?”

“Nen?” You put the gauze and other items in a black bag. It was found in the safe zone by the church. Apparently, it belonged to a doctor from the outside. The bag had all kinds of necessities. Gauze, medicine, some syringes, disinfectant, a thermometer, all kinds of stuff that you’ve had to use sparingly. What you save in the bag, you make up for with your ability.

He smacks his lips and calls you a ‘dumb brat’. “You use nen but don’t know it?”

Sighing, you ask, “What is nen, Feitan?”

“What you do. Use your aura and stuff.” His arms are crossed, and he looks at you expectantly. You gather that he likes knowing things you don’t. It’s like a weak power trip.

But it is nice to finally have a name and explanation for it. And that’s what he did this time. Visiting you for a moment just to pick with you while teaching you something you should have known.

“Wait, if you could do that, why’d you come here?” He just shrugs.

------

When you see him again, he brings his friends along. You immediately recognize some of them. Phinks, who ran with Feitan, the boy who always collected books, and Uvogin, the giant who was always claiming territory and beating people up.

Feitan should be twenty now. It’s hard to tell since he looks youthful. He points to his friend, the boy with the books, and orders, “Heal.”

“You can do it, Feitan, remember?” You were in the middle of cleaning when he and the rest of his posse pop up. They look flustered and a little worse for wear.

“Heal.” He always does crap like this. You roll your eyes at first. The body they carry tugs on your strings a bit.

“Fine. Put him on the table.” Thankfully, it’s cleaned, and a new wrapping has been placed on it. Gently, the man is put on it. You spot the cross tattoo on his forehead. Ah, that’s where Feitan has been. Lately, there’s been whispers of the Phantom Troupe. Merciless killers and thieves from Meteor City that have been gaining respect over the years. Your opinion of them isn’t the greatest but it also isn’t the worst. You appreciate them for standing up for Meteor City, but their methods are questionable.

You sigh and begin to undress the boy with the cross. “Is that necessary?”

You continue to pull off his clothes, not bothering to answer the question the girl asked. If she can’t understand why you need to remove his clothes, then that’s on her. She scoffs after another female voice answers her question.

You finally see his wound. Feitan can heal himself to a degree, but you don’t think this guy can. The gash is deep and sewed with makeshift stitches. There’s no nen involved, surprisingly. Given that Feitan is an avid user, you thought his friends would be keen on it too.

“He’s a specialist. Enhancer techniques are harder for him.” Phinks spoke. He must've understood your confusion.

“And the stitches?” You gently investigate the area. It’s an angry red around it and, like you suspected, infected. It wasn’t properly taken care of. You begin to remove the stitches. You wonder what the thread is made of and how long this has been going on.

“He,” Phinks points to Uvogin. “And him,” He then points to another large man with long ears. “Thought they could do it. Normally, Machi heals us but they were away from her. Her stitches would have helped him but not any infections.”

“Ah, well this requires more than I thought.” You touch the ground and out comes a beautiful swirl of flowers. Underneath the moving petals is a blooming sunflower. It picks the guy up so he rests on it. The bed of the flower glows softly and becomes warm. His once wincing face is now peaceful. His injury is slowly closing and the red is beginning to turn pink.

“The downside of this is that it takes a while. It’ll be all healed up in about an hour or so.”

“ An hour?” Uvogin, who has abandoned his afro and traded it for long standing hair. “Feitan, I thought you said she was good? We could’ve gone to that one guy and got it done right then and there.”

“She’s the best. Wait.” His hands are in his pockets and he moves. Feitan looks around and touches whatever he pleases. You try not to focus on his compliment. You wonder if the reason he moved from your line of sight is because he got embarrassed. If so, you won’t tease him. The Troupe are killers, afterall.

You start to feel the weight of your nen. This technique requires more effort than the others. Feitan explained it to you but you never did get the hang of it. You just know what to do instinctively. You were proud that you could do any of this without a teacher.

What you’re sure of is that this man, whatever his name is, is giving you a crap ton of money after this or there’ll be hell to pay.

You feel something tickling the side of your face. The wrapper is red and unopened. You take the energy bard gratefully. “Thank you, Feitan.”

A couple of the Troupe members complain about the time. Machi or Mochi or whatever, the pink haired one, especially complains and criticizes for some reason. You have never seen this person before in your life yet here she is pouting.

“You okay?” You see the blond boy with big blue eyes study you closely. He moves closer to your face. A smile never leaves his face. Before you can answer, Feitan, who hasn’t left your side since you ate the bar, answers for you.

“She’s fine. I’m watching her.”

You hear a couple of snickers. Feitan glares daggers at the offenders. You take a deep breath and ignore the friends who decided to crowd inside your hut. The boy with the forehead tattoo lies peacefully. Although you are running out of steam, his wound is healing nicely. One of the women, you believe it’s Pakunoda, comes to you and bends down.

“Can I get you anything?” You discover that your throat is absolutely parched. “Some water, please.”

If you remember correctly, the last you saw of her was when her head was shaved and some outsider kid did it. She had always kept it short. And now, it’s on her shoulders and very sleek. Over the years she’s drastically changed.

You drink the water, which to your surprise, is clean. “Hey, how did this happen anyway?”

“Don’t ask questions.” Feitan quickly shuts you down. Before you can ask anything more, you notice the entire group of friends are quiet.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?” You nod at the blonde boy with blue eyes and a permanent smile. Completing the hour, the tattoo guy is up. He’s immediately impressed. “My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer. Yours?” He puts out his hand for you to shake.

“Yeah, the book collector-theater nerd-kid, right? My name’s-” Before you can even answer, Feitan does it for you.

He gives your name and how your Nen works. He’s quick with it, too. You side eye Feitan for a second. “Thanks, Feitan. I, uh, really needed a spokesperson.”

“Ah, I guess it can’t be helped then, Feitan?” There’s tension in the air. It’s thick and heavy. By the looks of it, neither one is backing down. “Um, it’s not a big deal that he answered for me, you do know that, right?”

Seconds pass through this. You look around for anyone to intervene with this. Whatever the hell is going on, it’s deep. “Since Fei explained it, why not have her join?”

“Positions are filled.” Chrollo still stares directly into Feitan’s eyes. Phinks nervously chuckles, once again trying to defuse the situation. “Fei, come on. No fighting. Right boss?”

Suddenly, it’s lifted. Chrollo has what looks like a practiced smile on his face. “That’s true. That’s a rule.”

Chrollo takes a glance at you. “She obviously means a lot to you. Clearly, she’s an asset, too.”

“I’m right here, jackass.” Feitan smacks you on the head. “I’ll handle her.”

The others sigh in relief. Momentarily, you’re a little offended. “It was nice meeting you.”

They exit your hut right after, leaving Feitan behind. “So. those were your friends, huh?”

“Watch tongue.” You smack your lips and roll your eyes. There is blood on the floor and on the table. The furniture is in disarray due to all of his friends having no home training. “I haven’t seen you in forever and this is how you greet me?”

He frowns. “I say hello all the time.” You turn to him. “When? I didn’t see you.”

Feitan huffs and kicks the ground lightly. You get up to move the furniture back to place. Your movements are slow and everything seems so much heavier. Everything is swirling right before your eyes. Your head hurts and yet feels so light. Before you meet the ground, Feitan takes you to the couch and lays you down.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, little boy…” Those were the last words you say before you drift to sleep.

Hours later, you wake up at the sound of birds. There is a beautiful blue blanket on you with golden yellow designs. It’s thick and so warm you could stay forever. You’ve never owned anything like this.

Slowly you get up and search for Feitan. He’s nowhere to be found much to your dismay. Last night’s conversation still stays with you. He insisted that he says hello all the time. That he sees you regularly, yet, you haven’t seen him at all.

The blanket, the wind chime, the medical supplies, the various decorations with stones, paint and if you weren’t smart, you’d say gold. Could Feitan have been the one to give you gifts? Silently watching over you and in his own way, saying hello? You have felt like you were being watched for years.

____________

“Do you understand why I didn’t welcome you?”

“No, and I never will. Now please, leave me alone.” You feel convicted by turning a man of God away, but can he truly be one when he left a child to suffer? You were in the cold, wind, and rain, alone in one of the worst parts of the city. All you had was Feitan, and he was there once in a blue moon. After the rejection from the church, you took it upon yourself to care for others as no one had ever cared for you. Although hurt and afraid, you chose not to spread that toxicity. You decided that no matter the size of change, it still works.

However, you will not fall prey to the same people. For instance, that girl you saved and this priest. How can he expect your services with no repentance or atonement? You forgive, but like hell will you forget.

Damn…you were so sure you were over the pain of your past. That the change you made within yourself and how you treat people so no one else suffers like you, would stick. Alas, all it takes is one person to bring it down. You want to kick yourself because of the regression. Then again, the hostility isn’t your fault.

You walk into the hallway with small statues, stone walls, and large windows. The sun shines brightly through them, making the church seem prettier than it is.

“Please-”

“She said no.” Feitan stands with his hands in his pockets, the sun shining on his pale skin. It has been a few months since the incident with Chrollo. You haven’t seen any of them but have felt eyes on you, which you have deduced was Feitan. However, you learned the truth of the blanket. The name stitched on it belonged to an old clan, the Kurta, that was mutilated, tortured, and murdered by the Phantom Troupe. It disgusts you. The blanket is comfortable but still.

Feitan, the boy who you taught to tie his shoes, gave you a trophy of his crime. You wanted to burn it, or bury it in the memory of the Kurta, yet you couldn’t. It’s a gift from the one consistent person in your life. Your protector and giver. So, you folded it and put it in a box.

Now, here he is like he’s done nothing wrong. Defending you and putting the man that’s been with the city for ages in his place. You’re shocked at his behavior.

“Feitan, surely you must understand!”

“Shut up.” Father Rizole took a step back in surprise. Feitan was one of his regulars, if you remember correctly. This must be a surprise for the aging priest.

You hum at the scene. Even though the rumors of what the Troupe has done bothers you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t opposed to the benefits. The priest backs up and sighs.

“If you ever reconsider, please, let me know. We could use your help.”

“I could’ve used it too.” You end the conversation there and leave. Feitan soon follows you. He’s silent on his feet and very fast. Feitan was behind you but his quick feet caught up in less than a second. Now, he walks right at your side.

“So, you just decide when you want to see me?”

Feitan shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Sighing, you turn to him and ask, “What do you need this time?” The lower half of his face is hiding under a plain cowl now. His eyes show all of the emotion needed. “I just hang out.”

The sun is too hot for this nonsense. Sweat trickles down your face and back, becoming sticky. “So that’s why you’re here, right? I’m shocked.”

Before he can say your name, you continue. “Oh! And let's not forget the little massacre that took place, huh? Yeah, being used to heal your friend from that was really fun.”

“I didn’t.”

You roll your eyes. “No, just that one guy. That’s who to you, again?”

“Boss.” You scoff at his short answer. Then, you think about the possibility. “Your boss? Then…doing that to the Kurta, wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“No, not mine.” His hands remain in his pockets. His hair blows in the wind slightly. You realize he hasn’t gotten a haircut in a while.

“If you could, you know, go back in time…would you still do it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no thought put into the answer. Just a plain as day answer and a tone that leaves no room for an explanation.

“So whatever he wants he just gets? As long as it aligns with your twisted mind, right?”

His eyes grow darker. “I save you.”

You point to the church. “No, no you didn’t. That guy wasn’t going to do anything to me. I had it handled.”

Shaking your head, you go to leave until a hand wraps around your wrist. “Boss takes nen. I didn’t let him.”

Was that what that was? That tension that day that was suffocating? Remembering that day, you start to form pieces. “Would he hurt you if you didn’t go along with his schemes?”

“No.”

Well there goes that idea. “Nevermind.”

You try to yank your wrist from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let me go!”

“I protect you, always. Bad people here, everywhere. I get dirty for you.” His face is indifferent but his words give it away. The plea for you to understand and realize, dare you say, his devotion to his friends. Does this include you?

Is that what it is? What friendship, this connection is? You are aware of the deeds the Troupe do. You understand why they thought it would be a good idea (somewhat anyway).

“Thank you, then.” He lets go of your wrist which was grabbed painfully tight. He trades that in for holding your hand instead. You are shocked at first, but if you make it a big deal, he’ll stop. You don’t want him to right now.

Not when you feel safe. You still want to kick yourself… and maybe throw in a punch.

_____

Apparently, the Troupe have gone their separate ways for now. They don’t cling onto each other for a long period of time after a job. It’s better that way since it has a lesser chance of them getting caught. They still hang out from time to time, though.

For you, you managed to get out of Meteor City after the argument with the priest. Feitan had gone to do another heist with Phinks, if you remember right. You took that moment to skip town. You never wanted to stay in the trash, anyway.

And you were right to! Everything you thought of as a child about the world outside was true! Sure, people can be rude and things can be corrupt, but you’re fed and resting. There are bright lights and kind people. It can be clean and the soap smells so good. Just the other day you got to experience a nail salon. Rather than stealing from you, the lady next to you, Jade, talked about her family. Her daughter is Ruby and her wife is Scarlet. Jade and Scarlet want another child. You offered the name Emerald.

In Meteor City, you would’ve had to fight. Now, you are making friends and offering beautiful names. It’s a stark contrast that is fully welcomed.

The sun is bright and the moon is sometimes round. It doesn’t always attract evil and can sometimes sing such a beautiful melody. There are pearls and diamonds. There are seasonings that make the food taste unbelievably good. It’s all expensive, but infinitely better than Meteor.

And Nen is a secret here. In the city, many knew about it and used it without discretion. Here it’s different. Like a secret identity for a hero. Your nen in particular isn’t used as much as it was before. Your ability was so tiring. Pretty and incredibly useful, but exhausting nonetheless.

It has been a few years since you saw him, but he’s seen you. He found you quickly, too. When you came home from your office job (which you are still ecstatic about, by the way) you noticed a new painting in your house. It was dull and in black and white. The painting is of a few plants that take the center stage. Actually, they’re your nen plants. In the background is what looks like your old city. Piles of rubbish and polluted air in black swirls. There are clouds above and a dark sun barely poking out.

It’s sad. Beautiful, but sad. You have wondered what he meant by it. You open the door to your apartment. It’s not much and one day you want to get a house.

The keys make a jingle when you set them on the countertop. The apartment is still dark, so you scramble to flip the switch. “Why you leave?”

You scream at the top of your lungs. Standing there nonchalantly is Feitan, who you haven’t had contact with in a hot minute. His hair is even longer than before. He wears a new cowl that has a skull on it over his face. His trench coat looks a little too big for him but he wears it well anyway.

“Uh, because I live here? What are you doing here?” You set your bag down and take off your short heels. Although he’s a murderer, you still feel safe with him.

He takes slow strides towards you. “ Why? I looked for you and you weren’t there.”

“You knew where I was. I got your presents,” You point to the painting. He hides his face a little in the fabric. “I like it by the way. Did you do it?”

“Shut up.” You sigh and walk into your kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

You begin to wash the rice. Your eyes switch from looking down to taking obvious glances at him. Right about now, he should be in his mid twenties. It’s amazing how long you’ve known each other. You remember him as that kid who didn’t know how to tie his shoes and him teaching you about Nen. Time flies so fast when you least expect it.

You crack the eggs and whisk them. The sound of the utensil against the bowl and the sizzle of the tomatoes in the pan is all that is heard. Feitan doesn’t make one sound. He opts to stare at you working and even has a glint in his eye which you think could be satisfaction.

“Do you still like this, by the way? I remember you snatching it.” You try not to smile at the memory.

“I do.” He hovers in your kitchen, just waiting, watching you do all of the work. Stingy bastard. After adding the seasonings, you could have never gotten in Meteor City, you fix him a plate. He happily accepts it and sits down on the floor.

“I have a tab-” Oh, the memory. Allowing yourself to smile, you sit with him and eat off of his plate. “We’re sharing. ”

He gives a slight growl but doesn’t do anything. “So, what brings you by?”

“I say hello.” You hum with a mouth full of food. “Well, hello to you too, little boy.”

He gives you a light kick. The two of you finish the plate. Both full, you just lay back and talk.

“How long are you staying?”

“Not long.” You’ll miss him. “Running from the cops again?”

“Need to hide out for a bit.” You nod, accepting his answer and that your connection will probably always be sweet moments. “It’s nice to have you here, even only for a moment.”

Feitan taps you again with his foot. “I’m always here. I say hello all the time.” You know and are fully aware of what he means. His odd little gifts decorate your house. To bones, to rugs, even a china set he stole. It’s routine for him to give you something, even when you don’t see him.

“Even though you run.” He kicks you again. The more you watch him, the more your chest tightens. He’s the only consistent thing in your life. Everything is fleeting. Your job is new as well as your relationship with your coworkers. But there is a line with them. Feitan is different.

“How long are we going to do this dance?”

“I don’t dance.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “I mean you coming by once in a blue moon.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.” You nod. “Figures.”

He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, that this whole thing is tiring. You come and go like some kind of feral cat.”

“So?”

You sputter, “ So I don’t appreciate it.” He takes off his long coat and reveals his chest, next goes his shoes. “I sleep here.”

“You can’t use me!” He gets up and goes in the direction of your room. “Feitan!” You pick up his clothes and set them aside. “Do you hear me? I wasn’t done talking!”

On your bed is a sprawled out Feitan. He looks at you with squinted eyes. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

Like always, he makes himself at home. You sigh, giving up on trying to talk to him. “Move over.”

He scoffs and reluctantly moves out of your way. You feel him tense up as you lay down. “This is my bed. I can sleep here.”

You face each other as you lay down. Neither of you say anything about how close you are. This is probably the closest you’ve ever been since you helped him tie his shoes the second time. You feel his eyes on you, making you nervous. “Stop staring at me.”

“Never sleep with someone in a while.” You know. The last time was with you, no doubt. At the time, you didn't think about it, if you remember correctly. It's hard to tell since it's been so long.

“The couch is that way.” He smacks his lips. “No, you go.” You open your eyes.

“Like I said, this is my bed.” Feitan doesn’t say anything about your ownership. Instead, he’s honest with you. “I’m tired.”

Instantly, you start to feel a little bad. In the city, no child was ever able to fully sleep. It was too dangerous, especially in the more dangerous districts. Him being honest about his state, you take it as a step.

“If you want to, I’ll be on the lookout.” His hands are next to yours. You grab them, just like he did those few years ago. “You can sleep now, Feitan.”

You don’t know when, don’t know how either, but you two do end up sleeping. His eyes are closed and his breath even. Your eyes flutter open and see that he’s got slight dark under eyes and his mouth leaking drool. Feitan looks peaceful, sleepy, like he hasn’t done this in a while.

The next morning, he’s gone with no evidence he was even there.

_________________

You watch on the tv screen above the bank about the attack on York New, a city not too far from you. The attack happened a few days ago but it’s still in the headlines. You don’t blame them, to be honest. It was an insane event that over two thousand people died!

You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm. He touches your hand reassuringly. His watch gleams in the moonlight and his suit is perfectly pressed. He's the entire package, he’s perfect. A good job, good manners, an honest man, and treats you well, too. He always holds the chair out for you and gets up when you leave the room. Just like a true gentleman.

When you first met, it was a classic coffee shop romance. Then it blossomed into a romantic and expensive dinner, the movies, a nighttime walk in the park, all of the classic dates. In every single one of them he was the perfect gentleman, the perfect man. You like him and how he treats you. How consistent he is. He's the type of man you can rely on.

Nevertheless, there is a bothersome voice in the back of your head that reminds you of someone he just isn’t. He’s not Feitan Portor. You don’t feel the contentment Feitan gives when the two of you sleep. You don’t study your boyfriend’s features like you did Feitan.

Dammit, why are you thinking of him? He’s not around and you haven’t seen him in what? Two or three years? So why think of him now. Plus, you haven’t received a gift or a ‘hello’ from him. For all you know, he could be dead.

“Are you alright?” You wake from your thoughts and look at your boyfriend. His hair is dark, blending in with the night. Eyes kind and green, a Grecian nose, and average sized lips revealing a dazzling smile. Not only is the very essence of him suave, but his looks are also perfect. Tall and handsome, well dressed and a smooth voice.

It's just that one five foot one pest that won’t get out of your head.

“Y-yeah just…it’s all so shocking. York New is literally over there.” You point past the river where more tall buildings reside in the distance.

“I know, I know.” He brings you in close to him. He places a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.”

Suddenly, the newscaster stops mid sentence and gasps. Before you know it, the Phantom Troupe have been named the offenders that caused all of this. Two thousand people. Feitan, did you really kill that many people?

“I would like to go home. I don’t feel the greatest.” He rubs your arm, you still being tucked into his side. Your excuse was a lie to cover the gnawing feeling towards Feitan and his deeds. Although the Phantom Troupe’s original intentions were from a decent stand point, it seems they’ve lost their way. Feitan has lost his way.

The gifts have stopped coming, him no longer saying hello. After the last time, when you made him familiar food and sat in a comfortable silence, he disappeared. This time, there was something about it that hurt. Like he didn’t want to come around. He didn’t want to say hello anymore. Or perhaps, he died which if confirmed, you would ache beyond help.

“The Phantom Troupe is dead.” The newscaster said. The crowd gasped, shocked that the most feared criminals in the world are gone. Did you jinx it? Curse the little boy who needed you to tie his shoes. The boy who liked your cooking and made sure you rested. Had strong faith in you, never doubting. Protected you from the shadows and held your hand.

Is he really gone?

You hide your face in your boyfriend’s jacket. Tears stream from your eyes at the thought of his grave. With the Troupe, his friends dead, you’d be the only one to truly mourn him. To remember his name beyond his violence.

You clutch your chest. “Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?” He grabs you by your shoulders, making you face him. He’s such a kind, decent man. But he’s not Feitan Portor.

“I just need to rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You give him a chaste kiss goodbye. Once he leaves, your chest hurts even more. You slide down as you look around at all the menace’s little gifts. The painting, the skull, the windchimes, everything he’s given you. Why, oh why, couldn’t you stay here long enough for your gift, Feitan?

Wait, what could you have given him anyway? He’s a thief that takes what he pleases and has nothing to wish for.

You lay on your couch and put your arm over your face. The tears refuse to stop for even just a second. You don’t know what you’re crying harder for. Feitan or the confusing feelings for him. Now that he’s gone, you can’t properly tell him. How can you explain it?

It’s heavy on your chest and tightens it. You want to feel his body heat no matter how hot the day is. There are no small flutters in your stomach at the thought of him. No, it's something in your heart. You want to stare at him, to memorize every feature he has. To hear his soft voice that is just a centimeter away from a whisper. Just melt in his touch, his presence. Wait, why is this happening? You barely knew him! Does that fact even matter though?

You slip your hand in your underwear, still staring at the ceiling, sniffling at the news of his death. You imagine the future. Seeing him walk into your house and setting his belongings on the table. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing your back. No matter how long you’ve known him, his stature never fails to amuse you. He’d paw at your body, tearing off your clothes. Feitan wouldn’t hesitate to use his hands for your pleasure.

You trace your fingers in the direction you think he’d go. Curling your fingers inside, thrusting them in harshly, knowing that he can only be gentle in his own way. Your back arches from the couch. You swear you can smell him and the faint metallic scent that he holds. The feeling of his ragged breath on your cheek you could swear is real.

You moan as you take that jump you’ve searched for. Thinking of how good Feitan would make you feel. You're relentless on yourself, still going as strong as he’d be. Adding another finger, going faster and faster on your clit. Your moaning gets louder as the indiscernible amount of time goes on.

‘ The Phantom Troupe is dead.’

You crash on the couch with one last gasp. The dream of the two of you ends in flames. The house, the passion, the years that go by in that home. Maybe even a child or two. Seeing him in the morning with a groggy voice is gone. Rubbing his eyes and saying he wants more eggs and tomatoes is no longer there.

What would your gift be to Feitan? Memories? Sex? Food? Nothing fits. He can have those with anyone.

You slip yourself out from your underwear. It didn’t distract you. Perhaps if you thought of your boyfriend, it would have. But the feelings you have towards Feitan went beyond physical. What is this? What do you call this?

Love? Time stops at the realization. It has to be that. That would have been your gift to him. Love. You cover your mouth as you admit it to yourself.

'I love you Feitan Portor. I won’t forget you. I love your messed up hair and soft voice. For how you didn’t reject me when the world did. I will do the same for you. I’ll look past your torturous ways and miss you anyway. Maybe the world will curse you, but I’ll mourn you. Bury you so no one can spit on you anymore. I love you Feitan.

I’m in love with you Feitan Portor. This is my gift to you. For you to know that you will not be forgotten even though I never got to tell you, to thank you for everything. For leaving the baseball bat with me to protect myself. For painting that picture for me. All of the little gifts you thought I’d like, too. Thank you for protecting me from the priest and the wolves that hunted me every day when we were young.'

You stare at the ceiling till the earliest of mornings. It’s still dark, still heavy with the night sky. There’s some rumbling in the distance, a flash of light in the sky. You don’t bother to confirm anything.

Just as you close your eyes, the window opens with a creak. You move your eyes to see the figure before you. The darkness covers it, only leaving the silhouette. “Why cry?”

You squint, trying to make out the features. “Are you real?”

“Very.” It must be a lie. A cruel humor the world has. “Stop crying.”

“I can’t. Not when you sound like him.” The figure cocks his head, that much you can see with the flash of lightning behind him. “Him?”

“Someone who can’t tie his shoes.” Your lip wobbles again. “I can tie them now.” The moon glows enough to show his face now as he steps up to you. Feitan’s delicate features peek out from his cowl.

You shake your head in denial. “It’s not real. It can’t be. You’re dead, Fei.” Your voice is hoarse from your sobs.

He looks shocked at your words. The man who looks like Feitan smacks your feet off the end of the couch so he can sit.

“I’ll miss you Feitan Portor.” The longer you stare at the imaginary man, the more you hurt. “Well, stop.”

He roughly wipes away the tears. “Ugly when you cry.” His face is close to yours. Since he’ll be gone by the time you come to your senses, you grab his face and kiss him. He sharply inhales, not expecting your sudden decision.

He growls against your lips, “Stupid brat.”

He feels real. He smells real, familiar too. You tell him such and with furrowed brows and a strong grip of his hand, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. “I’m real, you idiot.”

“They said you died…” You comb his hair through your fingers. It’s real, he's real . So, what’s going on? Before you can ask him, he cradles you. “Stop crying or I’ll go.”

Your lips wobble at his threat. Rather than listening to it, you hug him. He nestles on top of you, hips placed between yours. He’s light, lighter than you thought so it isn’t a bother.

“You’re so ugly when you cry. Don’t cry.” He holds you closer and kisses your head. Against your ear, you feel his lips move. You can’t tell what he’s mouthing. When the two of you comfortably slept those years ago, that was the closest you’ve been. Now, this beats that record. Face to face, body to body, and sharing breaths.

After a few moments of thunder and lightning, he kisses you gently. Not at all like the desperate one like before. Realistically, you know these feelings you have for him seem fake. You’ve only had a few moments with him. So, why are they so significant? Are they with him too? Is it possible that love can blossom quickly?

Gentle kisses turn passionate, never wanting to separate. Little nibbles on the right places and sucks on all of the best ones. Clothes leave, not wanting to get between the two friends, those who dance around each other. For the first time, they meet.

His hands reach your throat as he kisses you, making sure to give it a light squeeze. His weight is still on you, not hurting in the slightest. Feitan makes sure his hand reaches below and swirls his thumb on your bud. You gasp, surprised you were right about how he’d do it. Every ministration he does is exactly how it was pictured. Your hands don’t compare to it. Not by a long shot.

Despite his size, his hands are still bigger than yours. They reach deeper than you and are thicker too. In no time, you come, the bliss lasting a good minute before he sheathes himself inside. His thickness is more than you thought. It’s a bit of a stretch, but in a good way.

His gasps quicken with every thrust. You can tell that you're being loud, way louder than when you touched yourself. Feeling the rush and strength of his movements has you claw his back in ecstasy. He groans at the sensation. Finally, after this time of passion and intimacy, you both hold each other as you fall off of that cliff.

Feitan looks into your eyes. With a softness that no one in the world could’ve predicted the torturer of the Phantom Troupe to have, kisses you. “Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry.”

“It’s hard not to when I know you’ll leave.” Silently, Feitan removes himself from inside you. It’s become routine, so you expect him to walk out. He lays back down, his head on your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair. He needs a haircut.

You wake up, not realizing that you went asleep in the first place. Before you can get up, you feel pressure on your stomach. Feitan rests on you still, eyes completely closed and his face peaceful. The two of you are naked and the only source of heat is each other. As much as you want to wrap your arms around him, you know he’ll react negatively or at least flinch.

Soon after, he stretches and rubs his face against your stomach. Like before, he drooled in his sleep. “Good morning.”

He grunts in response and sits up on his heels. It takes him a moment to remember the night before. His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, making you highly aware of your current state. You cover yourself with a blanket draped over the couch.

“I have to go.” Ah, right. He’s a cat.

He gets dressed. Once he has his boots on, you see him tie them the way you taught him. “Proud of you. You finally learned huh?”

“Brat.” You laugh a little at him. Once he’s done you ask, “Will I ever see you again?"

He cradles your face. “I come back.” You nod, holding back tears. He studies your face and settles on your eyes. He must have realized that you were trying not to cry. His hands still remain on your face as he kisses you. He lingers there for a minute. A parting kiss, a meaningful one.

Something tells you that this feral cat isn’t going away anytime soon. That he’ll always be constant and you won’t be totally alone. A companion you won’t see everyday and only for a night.

This is the gift you’ll give him. You’ll be home for him.

___________________

Months later, news about the Chimera Ants came out. You had already broken up with your boyfriend and heard he had left town to avoid them. Of course, you followed suit and got the hell out of there.

Without any plan, you moved back to Meteor City, where you thought that they wouldn’t be. Alas, that was stupid. You made a home base in the residential area. Not knowing that Meteor City was plagued by the wretched beasts.

By God’s grace, you managed to avoid them due to you being in the residential district. News that the Phantom Troupe were home to fight them ran rampant. The thought of Feitan made you nervous and you don’t know why.

Suddenly, right as you put away your dishes, the door opened. You grabbed a knife and faced the intruder. Standing there was the Phantom Troupe, who once again, barged into your home like they owned the place.

“What the hell?” You shout. The first one is Phinks with a wide smile. “There she is! Fei, I found her!”

You put your hand on your hip. “Seriously, what are you doing her-you’re dragging in mud, take off your shoes!”

“It’s only a little.” Phinks pouts. “I don’t care! You don’t live here.”

Phinks and his friends grumble as they do as they’re told. The last one to enter the house is Feitan, who is notably holding his left arm. Without being told, he removes his shoes.

“Feitan…” He hasn’t faced you yet. “What happened to your arm?”

“I’m injured too, (Y/n)!” The smiling boy with round eyes whines. You have no idea what his name is. Only that he and the rest are in Feitan’s gang.

“Alright, let me see.” He lays down on your clean table and says, “It’s all over. I need the full treatment!”

“Ugh, fine.” You grumble under your breath about the disrespect and your poor table. Finally, Feitan sits on one of the pushed aside chairs. He says, “I need it too.”

“Big babies.”

You heal the biggest cry baby completely. The blond, whose name you now know as Shalnark, stretches. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been hurting all day!”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Feitan who has been silent. He holds out his arm for you. You take the limb and inspect it.

“Completely shattered.” He grunts in agreement. He stares into your eyes and gives you a familiar slight smile. You notice that his friends are quiet, not a sound or word among them.

“You guys alright?” You ask. The girl shakes her head yes and ‘whispers’ to the rest. “Should we leave them alone?”

“Probably.” A mummy with boxing gloves answers. You’ve never seen him before in your life.

“Uh, we’ll check the place out. Y’know, make sure it’s safe.” Shalnark shoos the little kid out and into a separate room, your bedroom. “We’ll clear this out in case you guys need it!”

You huff and roll your eyes. Feitan’s cheeks are red and he’s glaring daggers at his friends. The girl goes outside with the remaining three to check the area. You and your feral cat are alone.

“What are they checking for? I’m in a residential area.”

“Ants.”

“They’re here? In the safe zone?” You begin to panic until he grabs your hand. “You’re safe now. They’re not in the city anymore.”

“Wha-how? What’s going on?”

He pinches you lightly, encouraging you to heal his wounds. “Oh, right, right.” Flowers of all colors circle around. They begin to smooth over Feitan’s wounds. You take a second to wipe the blood off of his lip, letting there be some room for the petals to go.

“How’s the other guy look?”

“She's toasted.” You smile. “Atta boy.”

He’s healed, the petals and flowers disappear. You lick your lips at the sight of his bare chest. You didn’t notice before due to the audacity of these heathens barging in.

His heart rate quickens. “You leave again.”

You nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I had to, Fei. the Chimera Ants invaded. I had to run.”

“With your boyfriend?”

You let out a small gasp. “ No. How do you know that?” He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. “You lie.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just never said anything.”

“Words of a liar.” You scoff at him. “I did not lie to you. I lied to him. You don’t have any business with our relationship.”

At first, he was looking at his lap. Those grey eyes of his immediately found a new target to glare at. “You’re not with him anymore. ”

“No. Why does that matter?” He begins to tap his foot lightly. “Why did you break up?”

“You hungry?” You start to get up until you’re tugged down. “Why?”

When you don’t answer, he whispers in your ear. “Because I fucked you?” Your face is so warm.

“If we run, we can still make it out.”

“Why are we running?” A small voice asks.

“Because I think they need the room.”

“Will you two shut up?!” You are two seconds away from running out of your own damn house. You stand and his hands hold you by your hips. “Tell me why you leave him?”

“Because of you.” It’s embarrassing to tell him your feelings. Hopefully, he can read your mind or something and shut up. He sighs and stands, walking over to you without a hitch. He kisses you.

“That’s what you get for lying.” He’s not remorseful or even boastful. Feitan takes your answer in stride. “No more leaving. Stay so I can find you.”

“You’ll always find me, remember?”

______________

Time after that, you were stuck in charge of Chrollo’s lover or something. She’s not too bad but clearly traumatized. Anytime you’d tell her to go with you, she’d look shocked. Like she was surprised she could leave. You were suspicious of her relationship with Chrollo. Something didn’t sit right with you whenever he or Feitan came up. She’d tense up. She never talked about it either. From what you understand with the little information you have, is that she was a former member that raised an orphan and that Chrollo loved her immensely. Perhaps too much.

From what you know, there was a big showdown on the Dark Continent and the boat that was taking a voyage to the fake one. The Phantom Troupe were on that one at first, fighting Hisoka Marrow. He was a sore loser that got humbled and decided to attack again.

Amazingly, only a few died. You didn’t want to know the details or anything. You can’t go through that again. So, after that news, you and Chrollo’s lover parted ways. She went on to find a kid she raised. You, on the other hand, decided to settle out of Meteor City. This was almost a year ago.

You have an apartment now in the town where you and your boyfriend lived, right next to York New. It’s basic, not fitting any aesthetic or anything. The good thing about it is that it’s bigger than your first one. It’s two bedroom and has a good price.

Feitan hasn’t reappeared. It tore you to shreds. You’ve managed to piece yourself together bit by bit, but you are a hollow version of yourself. Surviving and not enjoying the little things you used to. You even saw Jade, Scarlet, Ruby, and the new child, Emerald. Even that heartwarming moment didn’t fulfill you. However, it was the first time you smiled in a while.

You stir the food in the pot. Since it’s a little chilly, you made soup. You put the lid over the pot, letting it cook. There’s a knock on the door. You open it and see the man you’ve waited for.

Feitan is in dark clothing and has a large scar on his face. There’s no cowl over him, or a large trench coat. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks at you expectantly. You realize that you’ve just been standing there, you move to let him in. Once again, he makes himself at home.

“How’ve you been?”

“You leave again.” He states bluntly. His eyebrows are furrowed and has a frown on his face.

“Bold of you, very bold.” You move around him. “Why did you go?”

“Because I’d never stay in that city forever. The Ants were gone, the world settled. So why couldn’t I? That place is gross anyway.”

He sits on the barstool and cracks his neck. You ask a question right after he sits. “How long you here for?”

You don’t know why you asked that. He’ll only be here for a moment. A while ago, you had made the decision to accept it as your gift to him. To love and mourn him when the world won’t. When news about the Phantom Troupe hit, you couldn’t bear to hear it. Their trip to the fake Dark Continent, then their corrected course to the right one, ended in a battle with them facing Hisoka and Illumi and everything else over there.

It was too hard for you to think about. That doesn’t mean you didn’t mourn and that you’ve snapped out of it.

“For good.”

You look up into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he’s smiling with soft eyes. You see that he has a dimple on his left cheek. “W-what about-”

“Done for a while. Maybe forever. I know I’m staying.”

“But your friends, where are they?” He shrugs even though you see the tension. “Separate. We split for a bit.”

He rubs his shoulders nervously. “Can I stay with you?”

“Wow, you’re asking? Shocked.” You tap on the counter. The weight you’ve been carrying is lightened. “Feitan?”

“Yes?” He gets off of the stool and makes his way around the counter. “You know how you give me all those gifts?”

He nods his head. “Well, this is my gift to you, Feitan Portor. You can stay as long as you like.”

He wraps his arms around you. He’s hugging you. This time, you aren’t afraid to hold him back and squeeze. Maybe, just maybe, this is what home is?

If the Phantom Troupe resurrects, at least you know he’ll always come home. That you two will be a constant force for each other. No matter if it does or doesn't, you two aren't dancing but admitting things you couldn't. This is home, a gift for each other.

#feitan portor #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #hxh #hxh fanfic #slight yandere #q #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh feitan #idk what to put here rn

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laura1633 · 4 months

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Fic list and introduction Thought I would add a pinned post as a bit of an intro and also to provide a list of some of my stories (which are contained below the cut). My blog is mostly Lestappen related although I do post other F1 bits and pieces from time to time. I am a huge Max Verstappen fan so I am always happy to talk about Max, although only in a positive sense because I want to try and keep away from negativity as much as possible on this blog. I also adore Charles and not just in a Lestappen sense. I love Charles' racing style and I love it most when Max and Charles are battling on track. There are various other drivers I like such as Oscar, Fernando, Alex and more.

My ao3 name is - LaurawritingF1 I have written far too many stories to list them all here but I have included quite a long list of Lestappen fanfics I have written below the cut. I have tried to organise them into bottom Charles, bottom Max, omegaverse, silly, cute and drama. Feel free to send my any questions you have about any of my stories but please know that I am really still practising and learning so please try and be nice. Also please check the individual tags on each story on ao3 as there is a large variety. It's not a full list and doesn't include the other pairings I have written for (inc Landoscar, Maxiel, Max/Oscar), all my other fics can be found on my ao3 page.

Feel free to send me any questions about anything x

********** Links to various ao3 fics:

Bottom Charles: Good Boy - Multi Chapters - Trainee sub Charles and soft Dom Max. All the gear, no idea - Large cock Max, Size queen Charles. My first time - Virgin Charles. Daddy - Charles accidentally calls Max daddy. Curious - Charles' first experience with rimming. Princess - Max giving Charles the babygirl treatment. Nice Guy - Max comes to Charles' rescue when he is handcuffed to the bed Jealous - Max cuckolds Charles and Charles realises he is jealous of his girlfriend My Pretty Princess - AU -Multi Chapter - F1 driver Max and Camboy Charles. Safe - sub Charles safe words out of a scene, Dom Max gives him aftercare. Two Minutes - Charles tied up and vibes whilst Max is in a meeting. Solo - Charles lets Max watch him masturbate. Keeping warm - Charles cock warming Max to help him relax. Wake up call Charles riding Max whilst the Dutchman is asleep Like a Prayer - Sexy Priest Max and sex in a church I do - Multi Chapters - Angst with happy ending - Sex in a church Save a Bull, Ride a Thigh - Charles rides Max's thighs after a padel game How to properly care for your boyfriend’s thighs; A lesson by Charles Leclerc Red - Angst - Max fucks Charles in front of Charles' boyfriend Two Things - A developing relationship told through sex. No way at all - Max and Charles in a M/M/F threesome but interested in each other.

Bottom Max: Sounds from above - Charles hears Max having sex in the apartment upstairs The Sweetest Deal - AU - Sponsor Charles/Driver Max - Babygirlification Favourite Activity - Developing relationship told through sex 50 shades of red - Charles praises Max and makes him blush Pretty Cute - Charles telling Max how pretty he is The Auction - Dom Charles/sub Max - Charles bids on a night with Max All Yours - Multi chapters - ongoing - Dom Charles/sub Max 5 times Charles helps soothe Max to sleep - inc non sexual bondage Picture perfect - Max and Charles get Grindr Fast learner - Virgin Max Knock Out - Charles walks in on Max masturbating Can't even get it started - Frustration for Charles means he can't perform You play the role so well - Virgin Max Your hands on me - Charles chokes Max as he fucks him Earn it - Bratty sub Max and Dom Charles Late night question - Max is horny so goes to Charles - topping from bottom Pretty in red - A history of Max's experiences wearing panties Still Pretty in Red - Max in panties (again) A not so private show - AU - Camboy Max / Driver Charles Feel nothing. Feel something. Feel .... Charles is upset and needs to fuck it out A Late Night Snack - Charles eats Max out. Sweet like sugar - AU - Sugarbaby Max and Sugar Daddy Charles Other: Misunderstanding - Hand job - Max is oblivious to Charles' flirting with him An outfit fit for a surprise Charles in a crop top and Max masturbating over his waist Practice makes perfect - Max help Charles practice his blow jobs Pens, fingers and most definitely cock … - Max has an oral fixation Fia approved stress relief - Charles uses a sex doll that looks like Max, Max watches You're Hot - Charles praising Max in front of the mirror and giving him a blow job The Impact of errors - AU - boss Max spanks secretary Charles Red, Don't leave - Max providing Charles with aftercare Coming together - Soulmates - AU Porn start Charles and F1 driver Max Omegaverse Stories - List can be found here Tentacles: Don't touch what isn't yours - Max fucked by a tentacles sex toy Beautiful, unique and made for pleasure - Max has tentacles

Cute: A million times over - Max wakes from an operation and hits on his husband Charles Carburettor - Max and Charles have to look after a baby doll as part of grill the grid Tomato Soup - Max helps Charles prepare for his dinner date. Compliments -Max'f girlfriend never compliments him but Charles does. Falling in love - Love Confessions through a game involving a series of questions Just Pretend - Fake relationship trope - Angst with a happy ending A Different Kind of Hook up - Max asks Charles back to his to cuddle Caregiver Charles and Cute Little Max - Fluff - Multi chapters- Age regression

Silly: Zombies - Max gets scared by a zombie movie whilst at the cinema with Charles Heartbeat - Max is dressed up as a nurse and it's really affecting Charles' health. A shower, a spider and ...- - Max and Charles scared by a spider

Drama: On the line - Angst with happy ending - Charles gets his drink spiked In the morning - Angst with a happy ending - Max gets his drink spiked. Birthday Drunk - Multi Chapters - Falling in love over a series of Charles' birthdays Like a cat - Charles has a panic attack and Max looks after him I wish you could have known the person ... - Angst with happy ending - Coming out Not quite ready - Angst with hopeful ending - Max is outed against his will Drag me to the show - Charles shows Max his dresses - Supportive Max A love song - Angst with hopeful ending- Max comforting a stressed Charles Hitching a ride - Very Dark themes - True Crime AU - Hitchhiker Charles Enough for now - Angst with a happy ending - Max pining for Charles Red and Blue - Soulmates - Asexuality - Angst with happy ending Holding on to you - Charles navigates his relationship with asexual Max

The other Lestappen pairing: Firsts - Multi Chapter - Virgin Arthur - Falling in love - Max/Arthur Leclerc Threesomes/Foursomes/Groups involving Max/Charles: A Handful of Winner's Medals - Multi Chapter - Max fucked by multiple drivers The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Wolff - AU Anatomical model Max - Max x multi drivers An Unconventional Surprise - Top Max, Bottom Pierre, Bottom Charles Sleepover in 816 - Top Charles, Bottom Max, Top/Bottom Oscar Two's company; Three's even better - Pierre/Max/Charles - Free use bottom Max A weekend away - Foursome - Max/Charles/Carlos/Lando Three - Max/Carlos/Charles - Threesome from three perspectives with a twist Both so good - Lando and Charles give Max a blow job The Show - Carlando are stuck in a closet and watch Lestappen fuck Naughty or Nice - Competitive Threesome for Max's attention- Daniel/Max/Charles Double Date - subs Lando and Max with Doms Carlos and Charles A Lot to Handle - Max is too much for Daniel to handle alone - Daniel/Max/Charles A Little Bit of Max Time - Poly Daniel/Max/Charles There are other stories on my ao3 page <3

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itsguysnightitsironic · 6 months

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Curse of the Nitghborne.

Guys, I haven't had time to play a lot, but I think the god of this land MAY BE the bad guy, but don't listen to me much.

Get up, folk! Flor did another Curse of Strahdanya crossover after Derek mentioned Lethica fused with Strahdanya as one throw joke in a stream!

The style is indeed inspired by the great art in Hades (the videogame), and the background is by Hades II.

The drawings without text:

Also, this was written at four in the morning, and I refuse to correct my insomniac ramblings this is the beta experience:

Lethica Nightborne as Strahdanya

----LORE------- In Barovia, a land of the dead, of suffering and grief, a new god has appeared out of nowhere covering the land in an eternal night... Of happiness? Lethica Nightborne, known as the Divine, has presented herself as the saviour that the land needed it, for what seems like decades. Her light, her kindness, her power, has changed the region and the hearts of the people to their core, as the land has been reborn... As there's new blood... But of course, you can't blame the nature of evil, so there's still death, suffering and pain in Barovia, but of course, our saviour, our dear wife, cleans it as she chooses. And if she asks for a sacrifice, of course, we will bring it to her, if she asks for the firstborn of every family, we will name the second after her, and if she asks that we take care of her dinner guests, we shall take care of them. -----DESIGN------- All I knew of Lethica was that I wanted her to wear a veil, and she couldn't only be a countess but a whole god, the saviour of Barovia. The churches don't talk about sun gods, only of her, their lady of dark, their god. Her dress comes from mixing Stradhanya's and hers, ending in a very 19th figure, with a bit of Mesopotamian fashion (the metal belts and sleeves with the double skirt) to show her as a figure of the past, as somehow older than she appears. Of course, she had to have some kind of knife so a knife fan, and a cup to show wealth and power (her cup is always full, full of what? Well, if you look at the very pale man under with not a lot of blood left-)

Marius Renathyr as Victoria Issacs

-----LORE------- Marius as a man of Ilmater seems to be QUITE interested in Barovia, a land of suffering and grief, to the extreme that seems too personal to just be a missionary mission to conquer pain. The university doesn't trust him completely, but somehow, even as a new member of the university and resident of Druskenwald, Marius had found a way to get the vote of everyone involved and the funds for the crusade. But what would be the real reasons for such travel? Or... WHO is the real reason? ------DESIGN ------ Inspired by the old missionary ropes of the 1800s and the typical vampire hunter, Marius stands as a very weird-looking holy man. From Victoria's design, we get the rosary turned into this over-complicated necklace and the ropes around his hips that reference the bloody ropes of Ilmater. (Victoria's, and now Marius, god.) And his sword has turned into a cane. (a cane with a blade.)

Yorgrim as Silas "Shepherd" Morgan

-----LORE-------- From the depths of Yona, a mercenary is invited to participate in an expedition to a land of death and suffering. He accepts stating that he has other business in Barovia and he could be glad to accompany the group under the condition he would work in peace when need it. Of course, he refuses to say the kind of work, you know, "professional privacy policy" and all. But by his reputation... It can't be good... -----DESIGN------- I was going to go with a funeral worker, but the scarf with teeth appeared and it changed the vision. The design takes more inspiration from Shepherd than Yorgrim, with the hunter theme, with the shotgun filled with blue magic and a list of hunts on red clay (that would be broken when the hit is eliminated.)

Briggsy "The Kutlass" Kratch as Professor Clayton Azran

LORE------- Briggsy may take the role of the professor, but he's not the expedition's leader. He's contracted by the University of Druskenwald to keep an eye on Marius (since the university is suspicious of the holy man). He accepts, without even wondering or caring what Barovia is, only happy to finally obtain a title under his piracy by the lords of Druskenwald. (He's getting paid to be a pirate, oh the dream!) DESIGN------ With his design, he was the last one and I was VERY tired, so... It's something weird? You know, a pirate trying to look like a "noble man". (but he's very much failing, he looks like a maniac I think)

Jericho Sticks/Virgil as Sarnax of the Edelwood

----LORE----- The cult of Gherix initially refused the university and the idea of letting them explore the runes in their forest. Until they accept but a month away from the expedition which is extremely suspicious. When the group found themselves in the forest, there he is, Jericho, a sacrificial figure of sticks and straw offered by the cult as a guide. (Of course, the poor, only brought to life months ago, strawman is a sacrifice in the name of Gherix that, by burning in Barovia, will give the god control over the whole region. / Indeed, Virgil is now Gherix we get an asshole god, give it up!) -----DESIGN----- Inspired by Wicker Man (giant figures of sticks and straw with animal sacrifices that are burned during Celtic rituals such as the Beltane.) Jericho is turned into a sacrificial figure who will burn when it's necessary by the light that keeps him alive.

Farryn of the Hartsblight as Kana Soyokaze.

-------LORE------- It isn't clear when or how, but Farryn ends up getting involved with the expedition. As a storm in sea, one day, the swordswoman appears out of the blue stating that she's also trying to find her way into Barovia. The deer refuses to explain her business with the "Divine" of all people, only holding her katana with anger and sadness, but she's clearly not looking to make friends. (She ends up being friends with the whole party.) -------DESIGN----- Based on the Sika deer (a Japanese deer), the design lingers more around the fusion character while keeping Farryn's figure, with the open skirt covered by her leg armour that goes up to her hips and the war paint, fur, and bone that stays in view.

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rosewine-5 · 3 months

Text

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (3)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastor's daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

AN: readers last name is Bennett.

Word count: 1.1k

Here's the link to Part 1 & Part 2

(GIF above made by felixscatton

divider made by saradika

If the devil was Billy, you had to be Job, because he was putting you through hell and back. You finally had a day off from work and farm chores, and he just so happened to knock on the door, wanting a “study session”. “Honey, your friend is here!” Your mother called. You came downstairs, confused, “I’m not expecting company.” You said and then saw which “friend” was at the door: Billy. “Good afternoon Ms. Bennett.” He said, taking his hat off. “And a good afternoon to you as well, Billy. She’ll be out in a minute.” Your mother smiled.

You went to grab your shawl, but your brother Michael, draped it over his head. “Oh, Billy! Kiss me under the shining sun until my face is as blue as your eyes!” He teased, falling dramatically on your bed. “If you don’t shut up.” You shushed, grabbing at the shawl. “Let me ride away with you into the sunset! I love you so much!” He yelled, holding it over your head. John came in, and looked between the two of you, “Are you two done?” He asked, taking the shawl from Mike. “Our sister has a little crush, Johnny, she’s in love, can’t you see?” He said, spinning around him.

You then saw a glint of mischief in John’s eyes. “I hate you both.” You said as you took the shawl back and draped it around your shoulders. You walked down the stairs and gave your mother a kiss on the cheek before you walked out of the house. “Shall we, little Bennett?” He said, following you as you began to walk to the church. “Come on, Billy, I’d rather get this over with.” You said, looking behind you. He smiled, “Don’t mind me, I’m just admiring the view.” He said, looking at your bottom and then back to your eyes.

“You’re only looking at me.” You said, turning back to the church. “I know.” He replied. The rest of the walk was in complete silence until you got into the building. “Well, what did you want to touch on today?” You asked, opening the Bible before looking up at him. “Well since you asked-.” “I meant touching on the word, asshole.” You interrupted, knowing what he was going to say. “Did the pastor’s dove just curse, what would your father say?” Billy teased. “What would he say if he heard what you said,” You replied, “I think you’d have the worst of his rage, not me.” “Billy only chuckled with a grin on his face, “Well, you may be right.”

You chuckled in response, “I know I’m right.” He then sat beside you, “I actually know what I want to talk about for this session.” You looked up and held the page you were on down with your thumb. “Well then, what’s the subject?” You asked. “For today, lady Bennett, temptation.”

You could’ve killed him. You wanted to choke him, but given his attitude, he’d probably like it. His eyes were full of mischief and he had a grin to match it. “Didn’t know the word was even in your vocabulary.” You said in an annoyed tone. “There’s a lot of words in my mind, honey, especially for you.” Billy said, running his hand over your shoulder, making you shy away from him. “I have some for you too.” You responded. “Really?” he asked, his voice suddenly getting deeper as his hand skimmed over yours. “Yeah, the term asshole is in there somewhere.” You snapped, hitting the back of his hand with the Bible.

He only chuckled, letting his hand fall back, “You’re so fun to mess with, little Bennett.” He then looked deep into your eyes before speaking again. “I didn’t follow you here to learn about the Bible today.” He said, moving closer to you. “Then what did you come here for?” You asked, a nervous tone almost peeking through your voice. “You know, you act like you’re so innocent, but I see you, little dove.” Billy chuckled. “You could’ve had the lesson in your own home, but here you are, in the church, alone with me at last.”

You sat completely still, starting to recognize your actions. And you couldn’t deny your thoughts about him, pure and impure. He then took the Bible out of your hands and held it in his. Your heart was starting to beat faster, the feeling of his hands touching yours making your soul soar. “I don’t know if I’m overstepping your boundaries, but I have a feeling you this as much as I do.” He said, getting closer to you, leaning closer to you.

His hand then scaled up your arm and held your cheek in his hand. Billy’s thumb ran over your cheek a couple of times before his eyes drifted to your lips, and then to your necklace, the one holding your purity band. “I know you wanna be so pure, but even the saints had their sins, honey.” Billy whispered, his face inching closer to you. “Why deprive yourself of something you want and wants you in return?” He asked.

You couldn’t find an answer, the urge to argue now gone. His hand felt so warm against your cheek, putting you in his trance. The offer was in front of you, now all you had to do was take it. Billy was staying still, giving you a chance to turn him down, tell him off, curse him out, and leave. He was probably waiting on it from the look in his eyes. They were going in between your eyes and your face before locking in with your stare. In response, your eyes fell to his lips before looking into his eyes, your mind made up.

Your brothers got to do what they pleased, it was your turn.

One moment your shawl fell down your arms, the next your lips met Billy’s for a kiss. His hand brought your face to his and yours found the back of his head as your eyes closed. The rush of the moment along with the setting of the place made it more thrilling to you. Here you were, your father’s “perfect daughter” giving her first kiss to a criminal. His hand left your chin and found your waist, pulling you in closer by your hip. Your fingers began to run through his hair, making Billy let out a low groan in response.

One of his hands found the back of your neck as your lips moved against each others, and then grabbed onto your necklace. Billy pulled on it, forcing your head forward and a short gasp from your mouth. You finally pulled back for air, cracking your eyes open. You looked at his amused expression and a smile found its way upon your face, “Holy shit.” Billy let out a short laugh and threw his head back, “Well, temptation ain’t so bad after all, is it darling?” He asked, you shaking your head “no” in response.

He then tilted your head towards him and kissed your forehead. “You’re mine now, Bennett,” Billy whispered, “ ‘can’t wait to show ya what you’ve been missing.”

Let me know what you think!

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 5 months

Text

Yandere! Male! Archpriest x gn! Penpal! Ill! Reader

OOOH I've been waiting for this guy. He's been planned ever since the start, and I finally got to write him! Enjoy the convoluted world building between him and the other yandere men of Saphiri!

BTW: Liviticus has always been one of my beloved OCs with quite the lore, so forgive me if it did get a bit too confusing hshadad he is a priest, but I am not confining him to our existing religions of modern society. So it's up to you which religion, may it be made up or not, he is serving. I think this is also the first time i'm explicitly telling the physical appearance of the yandere? I don't remember. But yeah!

Yandere! God name: Liviticus

TW: Reader has cancer, death

BE WARNED, THIS IS LONG... LIKE MY LONGEST FIC.

Liviticus Obelia has always been a pious man.

He had everything in his life. Money, a loving family, anything he wanted, needed, and more.

With his extravagant life with his rich family, he had always thought that he should return the blessings he got to the people. But he doesn't know how though. First of all, he's an awkward man. He doesn't know how to interact that much due to being an introvert, and people avoid him quite a lot due to his Family's financial status being at the 1 percentile. Second, he had always thought that social aspects of society is not needed for people like him who is independently content with themselves.

Those words coming from the 10 year old Liviticus while sniffling from being rejected by a group of friends made his eldest sister, Koh, roll her eyes and pat him on the head, and his little sister, Kaoeia, giggle.

So, he found himself burying himself in books in the library his father owns.

Sure, there are more child friendly books there, but what got his attention was theology books about different religions.

He would religiously read all of them, immersing himself in the mythos of the gods he's reading on it. Even those of the olden and forgotten. His eyes would sparkle whenever he reads a book about them, maybe a holy scripture, and now, 15 years later, he graduated from his theology course.

Seeing as this was a good opportunity to now return the blessings he got from god, he enters the holy church of the religion of his choosing.

He takes the oath, and was quickly becoming a beloved member of the church.

With how genuine he is with helping people and "repenting" about having too much in his life, it's no wonder people and his fellow church personnel love him.

That, and his angelic looks was something that added to the his popularity.

With his long, ash golden hair that softly drapes on his shoulders like waterfalls, his eyelashes that almost looks white on his smooth skin, and his amber eyes that looks gold in the sunlight, he looks like an entity not of this world at all.

Everyone felt so compelled to rely on Liviticus. With his tall stature and strong build, added with his soft and understanding personality that will make even the most of the martyrs jealous, he exudes an almost godly energy in him.

He's genuine with helping too. He's that much of a good man.

That means, a lot of people wanted to be his romantic partner.

But when asked, he would just smile that partially blinded those who asked.

"I am not ready for that yet. I have devoted myself in serving the people right now."

Oh, how pious he is.

If they only knew.

Liviticus, is seen as a man who is extremely devoted to the religion he's serving.

With how he is and his high rank in the church, it is no doubt that he's a man of virtue and holiness.

It was true. He is a pious man. Someone who's serving his god/s with the full extent of his efforts, heart, and soul. He's also genuine with helping people and repenting on having too much.

But Liviticus was nothing short of just putting up a facade of devotion to god/s.

In reality, he's interested in religion, sure, but not in the devoted vision. He's someone who looks at every religion as entertainment. Just like how people treat Greek Mythology as stories, he looks at all of religions like that. No matter how widespread and popular it is.

Even the religion and church he's serving is nothing more than work to him and an obligation to serve.

He treats them as mere stories that fascinated a lot of people to the point of mass fascination. Was all of these true? Did all of these stories written in the holy scriptures of the religions he studied actually happen?

If they're fictional, how did it capture the heart of a lot of people? Did the author intend for it to be so big and so... Religious? How did they feel? Was the sensational occurrence changed something in them?

And, if they're actually real...

Then,

How can he be a god himself?

In a weird twist, Liviticus was so enamored with the godly figures in the religions he read that he wants to become one.

As unreasonable as it is, he doesn't care.

He's too in his head to think rationally.

So, him serving the people went from a genuine guilt to feeling like it's an obligation, a task to become a god. After all, he wants to be the helpful type of god.

In his mind, it was a practice in order to serve his future devotees.

The reason why he wants to be one?

Well, other than being an archpriest, he was an author beforehand.

He had created a world inside his high end laptop just like how normal fantasy authors have.

But in his case, he as an author, is a character in it. Nay, an active role inside of it as if the world is real.

He had created Saphiri. A world in which there's new currencies, new languages, new magic infused technology, entities, and of such.

Every single detail is well thought out. He even had different folders for different aspects. Like the languages folder has more folders containing new words, letters, and numbers. Magic? New runes and inspired elemental systems. Currencies? He has made a vector art of the coins and cash, and how it circulates between different countries.

He's too meticulous that it was almost unbelievable.

And his proofreader and the only other person who reads his works?

It's you.

Liviticus was rarely seen outside of the church grounds.

And if he was outside, it's usually to visit his family, or...

Liviticus sighed in content, reading the newest addition to his world. It was a person (not character. He hates that term) named Eros. He's still a child, but once he got your approval, he will work on Eros' upbringing.

The elevator dings, signaling that he reached his floor.

Once the doors opened, the smell of the sterile environment of the hospital lingers on his nose. He hears the nurses, doctors, patients and visitors alike walking and talking amongst themselves.

Thanks to his friend, who is the hospital chairperson here, Xavier allowed Liviticus to move you to one of the private suites.

You and Liviticus met when his family got a penpal for him. They saw how he's struggling with connecting to other people, and suggested penpals.

You were not that far, at least two cities away. And you're the same age as him too. That made it easier to connect with you.

Because apparently, he's shy when it comes to in person connection. He felt awkward staring into other people since he always felt a wall between them, let alone connecting with them. So, a penpal was more or less a cry of help.

And it worked amazingly. He liked you a lot since you love writing, albeit not in the theological sense like he was. You're an amazing writer, and has a keen eye when it comes to looking at plotholes. So, he regularly sends small drafts and manuscripts along with the letter with you.

You are patient with him, always treating him with kindness that he never felt from other people. Even when he's being rude and aloof, you patiently broke his walls down and now he's attached to you.

Being his only friend, he shared a lot of things to you. His desire to be god, the questions about religions, etc. He felt safe with you. You weren't judging him, and always answered his questions with a critical, neutral eye. Yet these replies still held the softness and friendliness he took comfort in.

Liviticus longed to see you in real life, but you weren't exactly as blessed financially as him. Sure, he's only two cities away, but your family didn't really want you going out and buying tickets or buying gas just to meet a penpal. He yearned to see your face finally, to see your face in real life and hold you close.

He wants you so bad that it's almost painful to breath. You were the only one who understood him. Even his family didn't understand him that much.

So, he took this yearning to another level.

Seeing that you were so nice to him, he decided to adapt your personality in real life. Gentle, kind, friendly... Someone who's easy to talk to and is incredibly patient and heartfelt. Helpful and genuine, Liviticus felt closer to you as he took your characteristics as his own. It felt like you were there with him.

And, years passed by...

Finishing his degree and finally having the time and permission of his family, he drove his newly bought car to your city just to find you.

His heart pounding, he found your address that you told him years ago, and saw you on the stairs of your home, sitting and writing something on your lap.

A letter. His letter.

He smiles and runs outside of his car to meet you, hugging you without any warning that freaked you out.

But, when you saw who he was, you grinned widely and hugged him back.

The rest is history...

But why is he in the hospital in present day, looking despondent while slapping his face to gather courage?

Two years within meeting you in real life, Liviticus regularly visited you. Spending time with you and getting to know you more in a personal level.

But, heated glances and affectionate gazes weren't lost. Both of you were two hearts beating in sync, as if the world intended the both of you to be together. It was a natural pull, and if the concept of soulmates were real, you were his, and he was yours.

A kiss on the lips on your birthday, Liviticus' mind slipped from trying to become god momentarily.

He's so happy just being by your side.

But then...

When he had to train to serve the church he chose, he had minimal contact with you. But, despite not having a label yet, he knew you would wait.

You would wait, right?

Then, one day, his phone rang. It felt weird, since it was already 3am, but he answered it.

He found himself feeling like heaven fell on him as the phone dropped to the floor, cracking the protector on it. He grabbed his coat and ran to his car to your house, almost violating road laws on the way.

You suddenly collapsed that night while trying to drink water. Your stomach felt so painful, like it was eating you inside out. You were so pale and white, and with a trembling body, you collapsed on your kitchen, being found by your mother who got startled awake.

When you were rushed to the hospital, you were found to have colon cancer.

It was almost too much for you, making you wonder what you did wrong to deserve such an ailment on your body.

And Liviticus felt like it was cruel. Too cruel.

You were so good and sweet, so why did you get such a dangerous and life threatening condition? And at such a late stage too?

Then and there, Liviticus truly questioned everything.

If god/the gods is/are real, then why were you being tested like this? You didn't do anything bad at all. You can't hurt a fly, so why hurt you?

Is this punishment due to him questioning their existence? Is this a cruel revenge due to him being preposterous and daring to be god? Is this an unfair judgement on a person that has nothing to do with him being unholy?

He might as well be swallowed by hell than seeing you cry your eyes out with such painful wails of agony.

He forced insisted on footing the bill. You and your family were adamant, but he insisted. His family was willing too, seeing as they had the money to spend and that you were also loved by them. And, you were transferred to his city to monitor you closely and closer to the best doctors out there.

He regularly visited you, always making sure to treat you like usual. Reading manuscripts and making you judge them. He tried to be cheerful. He really did.

But, seeing you getting weaker and weaker everyday was painful. You looked tired, but still carried a smile to comfort him as he kisses your hand.

And everyday, he got more and more desperate praying to gods to forgive him for being preposterous. He wants you to be healed, or even just transfer the sickness to him.

Anything at all.

He did all of these good things, and forgot his want to be god, just to appease those up above.

Suddenly, he became religious.

But it was not enough.

He numbly stands outside your door. The doctors and nurses were desperately trying to wake you up. But your limp body didn't respond at all.

You were dead.

Everything became a blur to him.

One thing, he's calling your family, then him consoling them, his family consoling him, then picking your coffin, and then now he's leading the funeral, blessing your coffin as you got buried in a mausoleum.

He only snapped out of his trance when he's kneeling in front of your grave, in the dead of the night, with only the moon and candles illuminating him. The wind was still, so was the night. It's as if letting him snap out of his mind.

His lips trembled, and in his priest garments, he shuffled close to your grave and hugged it, tears silently streamed down his face as he cried without a noise.

Everything felt so... Dull.

He did everything for the gods to forgive him, but they didn't. If they were real, then they would see his repentance, right?

But now, all he could do is weep. His heart torn apart as it got buried alongside you.

If you wish, he wants to be buried along you too.

Then, anger came.

Why can't they see it? Why can't they see that he's doing his best for them to forgive him? Why were you dead? You were innocent in all of this! You were only indulging his sins and was not directly mocking them! Is this his punishment? To break his heart this greatly?!

Is it not enough to shatter him, but you too?!

You had so much to live for! You were an excellent writer, and had plans to publish your book!

And...

"I.. I didn't even get to court you properly..." He wept, shakily taking a breath.

He pressed his sweaty forehead on your picture, tears still silently falling as he placed a chaste kiss on your face.

He got home that night, and left an email to the church that he's quitting.

He can't kept pretending to be okay.

Rotting in his bed on the days passed, he wished and longed to be in your arms again. To touch you, feel you once more.

Maybe, it will be a good idea to do something to distract him. You won't like it seeing him so miserable, and he needed to make you proud even if you were in the afterlife.

Trudging to his desk, his once Luscious ash blonde hair was dull, and his white eyelashes were permanently wet. His amber eyes dark and lost of sheen, he looked at the Saphiri folder in front of him before opening another document.

With shaky hands, he finally wrote his document. His role as god in that world.

He wrote in which he's someone who desired to be god to entertain his lover, y/n. He created this world solely for you, and just you. He wrote that he came from a world called Earth, and that is ascension to godhood was to see if he can meet you again. He wrote that he got transmigrated to this world, and had the godly powers like a worldbuilding author. And that he had more than enough power to pull your soul back to life in that world.

He finished writing by 4am, and he got to his bed with a small smile on his face.

Not knowing that what he wrote birthed to a world where he's ascended to godhood.

When he woke up, he's in an endless void of an opal sheen, and he was floating in the middle of it.

His heart pounded, looking down at his outfit.

A white cloth draped over him to look like a robe, and a gold anklet.

"Where am I?"

The void in front of him rippled, and he flinched before gasping.

A tear in front of him appeared, and it was overlooking a planet so green and blue, like earth but different...

Somehow, this felt natural.

He raised his hand and tried to "zoom in". And just as expected, the "screen" zoomed in, making him look over what seems like an old England inspired Empire, but he can see differences.

Magic.

In awe, he looked and watched as people and different types of creatures, familiar and new interacted with one another. He's beginning to be entertained until he heard the newspaper boy yell.

"Saphiri news! Saphiri news! The Crown Prince Yuno had a scandal! A mistress? What happens to his fiancee?!"

Saphiri?

His heart pounded as he tried to do something more.

"F-find Duke Eros."

And, in command, the screen flew up high and went to a majestic chateau.

There was a man, also in early 20's, talking with his soldiers with a frown on his face.

It is Saphiri. His creation.

He stumbled back, but only got to sit in a chair that materialized behind him.

"Oh god..." He muttered, eyes wide with disbelief.

He did it. Godhood.

He became a god.

Not just any god, but the god of his own world.

He scoffs in disbelief, still in shock as he slowly internalized what's happening.

"No way..." He smirks, a bit excited, before remembering where the hell he was.

"Shit... Um, home?"

And indeed, another rip in the void happened. There's his room, just outside of the rip.

This was surreal.

He closed the void by running his hand down on the void.

He tried to remember what happened, but all he could remember now was...

"Y/n."

He gulped. He remembered writing down that he should have enough power to make you alive here.

So, he closed his eyes and puts his hand forward.

"Y/n, come back to my arms, please."

And slowly, light sprites danced around him, making his eyes shot up and look in wonder as it, your feet, materialized in front of him.

In an agonizing speed that drained his energy, he focused on bringing your soul to him. Sweat trickled his forehead as you appeared slowly, bit by bit.

And once you fully materialized, you fell down, making Liviticus catch you.

He caught the familiar whiff of the cologne you use, before you got admitted to the hospital. Your being overwhelmed his senses, as he found himself crying again.

"Y/-y/n?" He whispered, making you stir.

Oh god...

"Liviticus?" You whispered, eyes slowly blinking open.

He desperately hugged you tighter, sobbing loudly on your neck.

He missed you so bad.

"You're alive! Oh god you're alive..." He painfully said out, the hiccups making him seem like a lost child.

You were also in disbelief. You swore you died, but here you are, hugging Liviticus in a weird white robe. You wanted to question everything, but seeing Liviticus cry in your arms was enough to make you shut up and just sooth him, smiling and grateful to be alive. You weren't in pain anymore, and that's enough.

Liviticus explained the situation to you, and you were amazed. He became a god? And he revived you?

You felt so flustered and grateful once more. If it weren't for him, you're still dead. And, even if you were dead, you didn't get to thank him when he took care of you back in earth.

Speaking of, you tried to go back to Earth, but it's as if a barrier was placed when you tried to enter the rip. But you were satisfied here already, in this void with him.

Slowly, the void got filled with a small pocket dimension only the both of you knew. A light blue sky with a night and day cycle, cute creatures that both of you wrote about now came to life, a valley filled with familiar and new flora, and a small, cozy house on top of a hill.

It's as if you were watching a movie as you watch him affect Saphiri. He pulled a person from Earth and made him appear on the throne of the Emperor. He became Aeron.

You were shocked at the twists when Aeron became a Demon King, and be obsessed with his darling.

You also got invested in the love story of Duke Eros and his darling. The way both him and her curbstomped the shitty crown prince Yuno was amazing, and it made you hoot and holler like you're watching a soap opera.

And Callisto.

The fact that Liviticus made Callisto self aware was a twist you didn't expect, and after sending Callisto back, you tackled Liviticus and gushed about how insane it was.

Liviticus grinned, hugging you back and kissing your forehead.

He loves seeing you so happy and entertained.

But that's the thing.

Now, he's the one treating the world he created as if it was still a document on his computer. Forgetting they're real people that had lives of their own. And not just mere characters on paper.

He became the thing he detested back then.

Foolish gods who're just blindly putting unjust punishments for their own good, entertainment, or want.

Thousands of lives under this god who only has one goal, and it's to entertain naive you, who also shared his outlook that these people, this world is just something that they can mess with.

But who cares?

Liviticus is god.

And you were his deity, his soulmate.

You want to ruin Saphiri? Sure. Why not. Want it prosper? He'll do it.

The world is putty in his hands, and he's putty in yours.

So who is really in charge here?

But all you should know is that this omnipresent being is at your beck and call, so pull him closely. You don't know what he won't do for you.

Yandere! Male! Omnipresent! God x Reincarnated! Deity! gn! Reader

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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darlingofvalyria · 8 months

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An abandoned church made most of broken wood and whimpering winds becomes a momentary resting sanctuary for Uhtred and his men— Osferth finds himself with a crooked root in the shape of a hand, a gold ring, and a full, blue moon.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ COCK WORSHIP, ORGASM DENIAL ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,830 ] [ masterlist ] | Osferth x Ghost Bride!Reader

contains— smut, fluff, angsty-ish - corpse bride!au - this is not the N word okay, you're a ghostly being that becomes corporeal. it's monsterfucking, not that kind of filth - no use of y/n - mentions of christianity lol - dillusioned!reader (if you know the movie, you know) - mention of character death - nsfw: sort of dubcon, smidge coercion, cock worship, orgasm denial(?) - no betas.

a/n— ok, but i am actually very proud of this one!! i enjoyed writing this way too much, adding a bit of comedy aspect to it shdhs. i hope you enjoy it!! oh, also this is the vibe you want if you wanna listen. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

His pack rests behind him, the couple of bundled furs he uses for bedding has hardened into the cold ground, not at all aiding his sleep. Around him, his lord and the rest of the men had managed to fall into their dreams, almost as soon as they closed their eyes.

Even Finan, with a furrow in his brow and his arms crossed, has his head tilted awkwardly to one side that Osferth knows is going to be painful in the morning.

But sleep evades him, and though he scarcely believes in ghosts, resting in a church, no matter how abandoned, no matter that there's gaping, charred hole that has blown over the side of it, trickling the cold, winter winds and soft, wet snow— it feels odd.

It brings a restlessness and a comfort all the same, and with a few minutes more of staring at rotting wood and broken awning, Osferth sighs. Their small fire is dying, might as well get more dry sticks.

The church, though broken and ruined, offers warmth. Once he's out into the wintry night, the pale moonlight bright and full, glittering the wisps of fluffy snow as if you don't come out wet if you sink on it. It's cold. Much too cold to walk, to linger, but he continues. He winds to the other side, leisure in his pace, breathing in the cold whilst warming his hands with his mouth.

It's nice to find a rhythmic motion that empties his thoughts. It is nice to be out of Wessex, out of familiarity. Uhtred brought with him adventure and battle, honour and excitement. It quieted the wrought in his head... until night comes, and Osferth is left with the weight of all those he tries to bury.

He walks quite a bit, observing and carries a faint sadness for a few graves that are left. Some opened, unearthed by grave robbers, uncaring of the Christian faith. Wooden plaque holding no names, just crosses. He moves past, finding himself entering the forest before he could think through it until he comes across a clearing. It's surprisingly, perfectly circled, trees at the side adjusted like soldiers with a curled root at the centre.

Curious and kind of awed at nature, at the wonder of the existence this little tree root, curled and cold, he dips one knee as flutters his fingers over it. The thin spindles look like curled fingers, a hand reaching in a hooked angle.

When he pushes his hand forward, curling his fingers against the root, Osferth makes a surprised hum at how fitted, how perfectly it holds like a hand against his.

Osferth doesn't notice you, dancing between the shadows and moonlight. Hit by light and you fade with it, more air and light yourself than life and physical flesh. You had seen him and his men find the scarred church and setup camp. The four men had not been the first to find the abandoned place, nor had taken refuge.

And time is everlasting when you're dead. Meaningless when there is no end to days and nights.

But he is different, you muse, watching him unable to sleep and walk and walk until he reached the clearing and your cold, dead heart feels a tug.

Does he know you? Is that why he is so different?

You slink between trees, hiding behind a trunk as you watch him kneel where your body lies, curious and awed, watching as he holds your hand, curling his fingers around your own.

Your left hand flexes, a surprised giggle falling from your lips and disappearing with the wind as you feel his warmth. His hand as if he is holding your own. Human touch fades from memory in a span of time and it is a pleasant hold.

Look down, you try to say, excitement you've never felt before, thrums through your body. Look down and see the ring!

If he does, you know do not need to know who he is. You know who he will be.

Look down, look down, look down! Please! you are practically screaming, jumping in the shadows as his eyes, beautiful blue like your favourite butterfly, is entranced by the glint underneath the snow. You hold your hands to your chest. Oh, please! Please, Please look down!

You exhale, feeling life sweep back into your mouth. There. There you are, you say soundlessly as he picks it up. A gold band worn with age but gold it still is. He twists it around, and though others have tried to steal it, pocket it and sell it, you know he is different. His warmth is different. There is kindness in his eye that you like.

And God, is he pretty. You would not mind at all being his bride.

You're on one knee, now propose, you say, willing the vows of old and binding to reach his ears. He twists it and as if playfully entranced, he mutters the words that you echo back in the shadows.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Osferth murmurs, the words he's listened once as a young boy, hearing the priest anoint two lovers who had escaped to bond their love. "Your cup shall never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness."

He raises the ring and places it on your crooked, dried fourth finger— and you inhale air, wintry and cold and so, so alive for the first time in a very long time.

"And with this ring," he says.

"I ask you to be mine," you finish, startling Osferth as you glide toward him. Triumphant. He stumbles, falling on his bum as your arms widen around you in all your ghostly bride attire and glory. "My love! I have waited for you for such a long time. Good thing the ice and winters have been kind to my body and you still manage to find it!"

Though in truth, you had plowed against hard ground to at least unearth your left hand while most of your body had been abandoned. Your skull had cracked in three places, and there's a worm who made a permanent home in your dried liver. But your new husband does not need to know that.

He gapes at you, wide eyed and unblinking, and just as he starts you yell? Shriek— You stumble to him, falling on his lap as you press your hands against his mouth. When you don't pass through him, you let out an excited shriek.

"Oh, my apologies, I don't mean to scare you!" You pout, aged old sadness wisps beneath your eyes. "Please don't scream, my love. I have waited for you for so long. And you're so warm... and so real."

As shock permeates his face, frozen under the feel of you pressing against him— there is weight, he can feel you. You're not as warm as him, cold in fact, and he is able to see through you if his eyes adjust well enough. But you are there. He can see you and he can feel you. Your wide, unblinking eyes drinking him in, exuberant smile composed of pretty lips and a mesmerising happiness. Your hair cascades around a ruined, fluttering veil with dead flowers atop your head.

But by God, you are beautiful.

Your wedding dress— because you are a bride, are you not? Were a bride, Osferth's head is starting to ache from trying to look through and at you — are in tatters and holes, showing more of your skin than what your dress initially thought to show and he swallows. He can see a creamy thigh exposed through a slash. It doesn't help that you're bent over, resting between his legs, and he can see the top of your breasts.

On your end, your hands are just there, on his face, and you start exploring his pretty visage. His warmth is addicting, gliding your fingers through his nose and pretty cheekbones, tickling yourself on his lashes with the pads of your fingers and you giggle. The sound makes Osferth exhale shakily before you are cupping his sharp jaw and your fingers touch his lips, your own mouth turning into an 'O'.

Oh, they're soft and a little chapped, a little cold, but his exhale entrances you. His show of pure, breathing life is tantalising.

You lean in closer, nearly touching his lips with your own as you try to inhale his air. He smells of smoked meat and dried ale. Winter woods and burnt campfire. Your hands drift from his mouth to his neck, to his chest. His heart. There in your palms, you press tight. A quickened heartbeat nestles beneath and you exhale, smiling ruefully.

"My husband." Osferth's eyes widen at the pure adoration and lust in your gaze. "You are wonderful. My wait is worth it."

"Hold on, l-lady." He captures your hands in his, eyebrows furrowed. He swallows as he can feel you both corporeal and wispy. If shadows can be held, he thinks it would feel like this. "H-How am I your husband? Sorry, I've— I don't even know your name!"

What's more is that you're a ghost! But something in his head tells him not to speak aloud such a thing, for another, he isn't sure he hasn't fallen back in the encampment with the others. A bizarre dream of a very pretty, ghostly bride is for one an embarrassing topic to broach.

"Oh. That's right!" You giggle happily, offering your name and Osferth tests in his tongue. A pretty name for a pretty bride. "What's yours? Though, I'm afraid I prefer to call you husband, and would prefer to be called your wife. Or 'your love'."

At another helpless, tinkling laughter, Osferth blushes. Your eyes are distracted by the colour in his cheeks, so long ago contained your own but no more, that you take your hands from his and start petting the rosy tint again. He's so warm that you start nuzzling into him, your head burrowing into his neck.

"O-Osferth." He clears his throat to get your attention. "Osferth, lady."

"My wife."

"Sorry?"

You start to pout. "Call me 'my wife'."

Osferth starts to shake his head. "Lady, I really don't—"

"I am your wife now. See." You sit up, pointing back to your dead hand, gold ring glinting under the pale moon. "You've made your vows and given me the ring. We're married now." Your gaze darkens, your form shimmering and Osferth yelps as you had gotten ice cold. "You have made your vow, Osferth. Are you telling me you do not honour your vows? Are you a man without honour? Is there another... woman?"

Your hands on his face sharpened, like ice, digging through his skin as iff trying to embedded yourself into his skull. He cries out, taking your wrists.

"No, no! I— yes, I am your husband now. I am. There is also no other woman!"

You cock your head, still frowning. "Are you sure?"

"I'm wearing monk's robes, lad— wife," he says helplessly.

"But..." You cock your head to the side. "You don't seem too shock of a woman's body. You're very responsive to me, my love, I enjoy it quite so."

This time, he blushes deeply. "I— Goodness, okay. I've had practice... s'all."

"With... whores?"

He cringes, waiting for you to turn mad, pure ice cold and tear through his skin like you almost did, but you only hum when he nods.

"That is alright. That presents more of a challenge than an obstruction of our love."

"Challenge?" he asks as you gently push him on his back, straddling his hips. You slide your palms up and down his torso almost as if he is a campfire and you are warming your hands.

He swallows at your confident grin before you blow him a kiss and he exhales a laugh, his mind truly unconnected from his body because there is a ghostly woman on top of him, adoring him with flirtations, and he is stirring in his pants.

Truly, he must be deep asleep, in a more awkward position than Finan.

If I am, he thinks watching you with a blossoming attachment. Please, by God, don't wake me.

With a seductive intent, you slide down from his body, making sure you pay a special wiggle in his tenting manhood that he feels a lightning bolt from his cock to the ends of his nerves. He doesn't truly understand what you intend until you've unlaced him and paying special attention to his now, semi-erect appendage.

Osferth is red and sputtering, unable to find the strength to stop you.

You get your face impossibly close to his manhood, your unbridled attention makes his cock inflate until you test a teasing finger from beneath, circling his balls, up and up until you tease the slit and his hips jolt.

"G-God, Oh goodness," he spits, white knuckling his woolen coat. "Please do something. D-Don't just—shit." You test a tongue, laving the underside of his cock until pearly white essence beads from his slit and you lick it experimentally. It tastes salty, inexcusably human and alive, and you decide you like it, especially when you watch Osferth writhe, unable to decide what to do from such teasing little touches.

"Good thing for you husband, your wife made sure to serve a keen listen to gossiping wives behind the church after mass. Well before the raid burnt it all down." You got yourself comfortable between his thighs, loving how snugged you fit against his warmth here, as well as having a beautiful of view of your Osferth. "They spoke salaciously of what keeps their husbands to their beds."

You give him a wink as you enclose your hand on his cock, giving it a firm tug and he chokes. "To keep the whores away." You start slow and teasing, wanting to see what movements pleased him the most, what made him sigh and groan, jolt, hips chasing the feeling of your hand that started to warm and get wet, both from his excitement and the teasing licks you give.

When he started panting, you took your hand away. His head bobs back adorably at you, frowning. "W-Wife? Wha—" But you don't let him finish, sitting up on your hunches as you replace your hand with your mouth, feeling the stretch as he throws his head back again, neck arched. It doesn't hurt, momentarily uncomfortable as you test the feeling of it, the weight now so full in your mouth before you start moving up and down, eased by the slick and guided by his pretty sounds.

And Osferth has been on the brink of peak multiple times, but you kept stopping or slowing midway. At first, he surmised it must be your first time, unused to a man in your mouth but eager to give him pleasure, which he can't help but feel deep fondness for.

By the third peek he's been deprived off, and the little smirk playing on your lips, he realised the truth. But your mouth is a different story. It's hot and heady, just like a real mouth and his stomach is clenching, his pleasure tightening that he's got tears in his eyes, apologising as his hips chase his high in your throat but by the rumble that rocked his cock, it seems as if you were trying to tell him it was okay.

When you started massaging his stones, he was gone. White hot pleasure broke behind his eyelids that he grabbed your head, your veil and hair, dead flowers falling into light as he came, hips stuttering, before holding you down until the last drop of his spend is in your mouth.

He releases you with apologies, chest heaving with tears in his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, lady, I— inexcusable." He stared gently cleaning your face, unable to realise how much more solid you had become, how much more colour bled in your ghostly blue.

But as you sit back up, you're grinning, unmistakable pride in your gaze as he wipes the corner of your mouth tenderly. You take his fingers before he wipes it on his trousers, coated in him, and licks them clean, sucking hard with a little giggle.

"Good boy," you say. Osferth shudders, his cock already painfully stirring once more.

The Lord have mercy on him. Were there ghostly vixens? Did he marry the only ghostly vixen?

He can't say he's too mad about it.

"Hmm. So that's what it tastes like. I think I like it." You smile, rubbing his thigh. "I also think we are going to have a fruitful marriage, sweet Osferth. What we only need now is one thing..."

He blinks at you. "Hm?"

"Death, my love." You blink back at him owlishly, snapping the dagger strapped to his side. "How can we stay together when one of us breathes?"

Christ, I already have an idea for part two...

#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth fanfic #kinktober 2023 #osferth smut #osferth fluff #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk smut #tlk fluff #︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#the last kingdom #tlk #osferth scenario #ewan mitchell characters

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obscured-everything · 1 month

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OBSCURA trailer analysis & theories

The OBSCURA trailer is very pretty (watch it if you haven’t already <3) and is also full of interesting symbolism and snippets of Latin. In this post I’m going to be manually translating and providing notes on the Latin, as well as discussing what the numbers mean and giving my own plot speculations. SPOILERS for OBSCURA’s Chapter 1 with every love interest.

I’m going to be working with the theory that the numbers correspond to the Major Arcana in a Rider–Waite–Smith tarot deck. I’ll be pulling tarot card information from A.E. Waite’s 1910 book ‘The Pictorial Key to the Tarot’, where he discusses the symbolism of the images in the cards and provides divinatory meanings.

Shoutout to @/starlitmanta and @/mostlygayrage for posting their own analyses before me! I got inspired by both of them to both write down my thoughts and then actually finish the post after leaving it for months lol. @/mostlygayrage has some interesting stuff on the imagery and also delved into the Latin! Although he took it as one sentence which I won’t be doing – I’m going to take the double forward slashes as an indication of a break.

Disclaimer that I haven’t formally studied Latin in years so if there are any errors feel free to point it out in the notes!

Cirrus

18. Presbyter // Ecclesiae lunaris XVII: The Moon. Priest // Lunar churches

18. Obsequium // ducit ad caelum Obedience // he leads to heaven TL notes N/A Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “The moon is increasing on what is called the side of mercy… the path between the towers is the issue into the unknown. The dog and wolf are the fears of the natural mind in the presence of that place of exit, when there is only reflected light to guide it…the message is: Peace, be still; and it may be that there shall come a calm upon the animal nature...”

Upright: Hidden enemies, danger, darkness, terror, deception, occult forces, error. Reversed: Instability, inconstancy, silence, lesser degrees of deception and error. Speculation I think we can all agree that Cirrus is not trustworthy, hence danger, deception, occult forces etc. Nevertheless, Vesper (if you’ve got a good ending, at least) puts great degrees of trust in him. ‘A calm upon the animal nature’ calls to mind his odd ability to influence Vesper’s choices and force them into saying ‘yes’, but I also thought it might reference something about Vesper putting aside their instinctive reservations about Cirrus’ suspicious character to follow him into an unknown future.

Leading to heaven is, to me, a bit double-edged; it could mean death or paradise. Very fitting, I think.

Keir

20. Keir // Cavillatur fur XX: Judgement. Keir // Mocking thief

20. Fatum // vestrum vel extraneus [Destiny / (calamitous) death] // yours or a stranger TL notes I’m inclined to believe that Keir’s name being his plain name rather than an epithet is probably just part of his blunt kind of character, and ‘mocking thief’ is probably related to his personality too. Also, there is another piece of Latin on that first screen – ‘cultellus’, which means ‘dagger’ and points downwards towards where his dagger is held. Also, ‘fatum’ is a very interesting word in that it carries an intriguing potential double meaning. Tarot meaning Upright: Change of position, renewal, outcome. Reversed: Weakness, pusillanimity, simplicity; also deliberation, decision, sentence. Speculation Waite’s initial discussion of Judgement is very Biblical which I doubt has much to do with OBSCURA’s use of it. I do think the divinatory meanings are very interesting – I think that at a good/best end of Keir’s route, he’ll be able to come out on top and secure a good and/or stable future for himself and/or Mouse Hole.

My current theory is that, since we have had mentions of Keir and Oleander in each others’ routes, that they have direct effects on each others’ fates. This fits with ‘yours or a stranger’ of course, but also the double-edged ‘destiny or (calamitous) death’ – I’ll speculate more in Oleander’s route, but I think he and potentially most of Mouse Hole will not fare well if Vesper picks Oleander.

I’m interested in why his dagger was explicitly pointed out and labelled. I’m kind of shooting in the dark here but I think it’ll be significant in the future – either as a symbol of his history (specifically with Oleander, perhaps?) or as a plot device of some sort.

Oleander

11. Nerii // Periculosum scurra XI: Justice. Of oleander // Dangerous clown

11. Patiuntur // sicut habes They are suffering // just like you are TL notes More technically, ‘nerii’ is the genitive of ‘nerium’, which means oleander. This makes sense to me when I think about how he’s had a history of changing names – he’s moreso embodying the qualities of oleander (a pretty but dangerous plant) rather than taking it as a definitive name.

‘Patiuntur’ is in the plural, and suffering might be a strong word depending on how you look at it – the original word is like enduring through something difficult or unpleasant. Tarot meaning Waite basically says that the card has ‘obvious meanings’ so I don’t think I need to look too closely into it.

Upright: Equity, rightness, probity, executive; triumph of the deserving side in law. Reversed: Law in all its departments, legal complications, bigotry, bias, excessive severity Speculation The second half of the second piece of Latin, ‘sicut habes’, is in the second-person and I’m assuming that this is meant to address Vesper/MC. Maybe Oleander is also looking for something that he can’t find or afford, although the plural throws me off a bit if that’s the case. Maybe it’s referencing Oleander’s previous Vigils (since Vesper is currently holding that position, ‘just like’ they have) or something…?

Now, here is my plot theory which may or may not be insane. We know that Oleander has committed murder, and was very blasé about it; presumably he’s done this sort of thing before. We know that in his route, Keir has been alluded to, Griff has shown up and Keir is presumably going to show up at some point. I think that Oleander’s involvement with Keir is going to end very poorly for Keir, even leading to the calamity insinuated in Judgement. Specifically, I think that Oleander and Keir are going to be caught up in a serious crime and Keir is going to take the fall, leading to a permanent end for him (death, probably) and the following collapse of Mouse Hole. Oleander will get off lightly or scot-free (Justice’s ‘triumph of the deserving side in law’, ‘deserving’ as opposed to Keir who is indisputably a criminal and receives ‘excessive severity’).

This could be from Keir and his group failing the burglary since Vesper isn’t there to cover for the injured lookout, or it could be something else that brings in the dagger which was pointed out in Keir's portion of the trailer. I’m thinking murder, honestly.

Francesco

10. Franciscum // innocentes nobiles X: Wheel of Fortune. Francisco // innocent nobles

10. Tempus // decurrit Time // runs out TL notes Grammatically, ‘Franciscum’ is in the accusative (the case used to mark the ‘object’ on which a verb acts). This could be a stylistic thing or it could allude to how he’s being ‘acted upon’ by whatever power/influence his family have.

‘Decurrit’ is literally ‘runs down’ which fits with the hourglass imagery, but I imagine that the spirit of the phrase is ‘runs out’ especially since his route already alludes to that. Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “the symbolic picture stands for the perpetual motion of a fluidic universe and for the flux of human life … the essential idea of stability amidst movement. Behind the general notion expressed in the symbol there lies the denial of chance and the fatality which is implied therein.”

Upright: destiny, fortune, elevation, luck, felicity. Reversed: increase, abundance, superfluity. Speculation I think that at some point within Francesco’s route, his family is going to be further involved. I assume that these are the ‘innocent nobles’, which makes me think that whatever state or situation that they find Francesco in won’t be very innocent at all. Alternatively, it could be that his family is more innocent/harmless than they present themselves as – depending on circumstance, this could be a big win for Vesper or a big loss because they don’t have the family backing that they thought they did.

The Wheel of Fortune carries connotations of luck and change in fortune. I assume that Vesper provides Francesco with some degree of ‘stability amidst movement’ and that any ‘denial of chance’ involves Francesco leaving the marketplace and returning to the very clearly mapped out future that his family has for him, thus leading to a bad end. ——————————

Thanks for reading to the end!

#obscura vn #obscura analysis #obscura theories #rotten raccoons

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silverskye13 · 2 months

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I am turning EB around in my head like a microwave and I have a couple questions:

What is EB and EX's relationship like? I know they view each other as family and EX gets EB's booth, but will we see how they interact more?

Did anyone wind up telling EB that hels!zedaph is dead? If not, does he have suspicions that he is?

and a more general Hels question (that is totally not related no siree) - what is the upkeep for the remembrance walls like?

EB and EX are on friendly terms! They previously saw each other,,, not as rivals in the traditional sense. They didn't openly attack or oppose each other. But EB viewed EX as a challenge: How do I stay distinct from my brother's shadow? Anyone looking for it would find it obvious. EB got Bigger and Louder whenever EX was around, and he used to be much bigger and much louder than he currently is. It's less that he was mean, and more that he was prideful. Becoming friends with Helsknight changed him for the better in that regard. Since he's mellowed out, he and his brother have become closer. They enjoy visiting with each other during Colosseum matches [EB will often stand with EX in the box and talk both before the events, and during intermission] and EX invites EB to a lot of parties, where they shit talk the guests together. We'll see them together once during RnS, but EB is a secondary character, and outside of the one appearance, I don't intend to have EX very involved in the story. He's kind of the unspoken god of the world: he gets a lot of mentions because he's very important to hels, but he's not very important to the plot lol.

Someone did wind up telling EB about hels!zedaph, though yes, he did suspect before he was told. EB hadn't gone looking for HZ for a reason. He didn't want to be the one to find out he was gone. If I can't see it, maybe its not really there.

And the Remembrance Wall Ramble got long so its under the cut!

[Hello future me cutting in here because I just realized you were probably talking about what individuals like EB would do to upkeep a name of a loved one. Mostly it involves regular visits. Keeping the stone clean, replacing it if it gets cracked, making sure it doesn't wear down. Nether bricks to me are a bit brittle, and the ones on the bottoms of the walls will crumble and break down over time. Most of the time, the Order of Remembrance is pretty good at getting them replaced, though they encourage individuals to do it themselves, to decorate the stones, paint or carve them, and overall keep the care personal. People will also sometimes leave gifts of food, flowers, and favored items at walls where loved ones names are kept. Walls are very colorful spots in hels, full of a lot of care.]

The Remembrance walls are, basically, graveyards. Alongside friends and family, who will make sure loved ones names are put down and remembered, the Order of Remembrance manages all Remembrance Walls in the city. We'll get into it a little in the upcoming chapters, but the Order of Remembrance church, and its knights, have a very active presence in hels. They are the cloaks seen most often roaming the streets, in twos and threes. They have regular routes they walk, with walls they are assigned to tend. They make sure the stones are stacked straight and don't fall, replace broken ones, and help people carve names. Many knights have prayer chants where they intentionally try to memorize every name on the wall. Their focus is on the idea that no helsmet is truly gone as long as some memory remains of them. They welcome helsmets approaching them with fond memories of loved ones, and will take testimony from people who know their time is coming. Their church is a glorified library and house of memorization. Part of their worship in remembrance of people is also in the remembrance of history, and they have at least one copy of every book, memoir, and journal in hels they can get their hands on. They have one private collection in the church, and one public library in hels, which they regularly update with copies of originals from the church library.

The only place outside the Order of Remembrance's domain is the shady side of town where Cleo's gangs keep the peace. For control reasons, Cleo doesn't like any opposing force on her claimed land, which includes Order of Remembrance knights. She does still have Remembrance Walls on her side of town, but they are up-kept by the people that live there as a community project. People get together once every few weeks, make food, talk about those that are gone, and make sure none of the stones are broken or stolen.

Erasing memory is a big taboo in hels, understandably. The universe is already cruel enough in taking people, and people, once taken, are woefully easy to forget [they were never meant to exist in the first place, after all]. On the sides of town where the Order of Remembrance upkeeps the walls, anyone caught stealing or destroying stones is tracked down by their paladins, and subjected to community service under close supervision. They're often roughed up in the process, but the paladins won't kill you for breaking a stone. Depending on whose stone you break, and how angry hels is that day, the same can't be said for anyone else who catches you. Repeat offenders, or people who destroy many stones at once with the express intent of erasing memory, are branded by the Order with a mark somewhere visible, normally on the hands. Anyone with that unlucky brand will see increased hostility from their peers, ostricization, lost of livelihood and home -- it's a great way to make everyone in hels hate you. Anyone on Cleo's side of town caught destroying a stone is hunted actively in the streets, and leaving her side of town will not save them. She offers high bounties for that kind of thing.

#rns asks #evil xisuma #evil beezuma #remembrance walls #hels #hels worldbuilding #aloe-vera-ghost #sorry you activated my trap card #i have a lot of thoughts on the Order of Remembrance #They're very very good guys #They're some of the few people in hels everyone likes #There is also an unspoken rule you don't mess with [attack or rob] Remembrance knights #because if you do that gives them a reason to forget you #and to make sure the world forgets you #to anyones knowledge they've never done that before #but then again -- if they did how would you know?

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kitasgloves · 4 months

Text

"Melting"

event masterlist

— ♬ "Melting like an ice cream when you smile"

— ♬ Akaashi x Reader, timeskip, SFW, fluff, gen reader, neighbors to lovers, no beta

Moving into a new apartment complex marked a new journey in your life. A new journey means changes, and changes lead to adjustments, which truthfully you weren't a fan of. Somehow moving into your new place became a hassle, to be fair, you were doing all of the moving alone and you had a ton of stuff that held way too much sentimental value to get rid of. So, the first day felt like you were about to snap your spine in half.

"Three more boxes to go"

You groan as you settle a box in the living room. Sweat trickled down your face and your back as you went to fetch another of your boxes. As you reached to pick up the unsuspecting box, you didn't anticipate the weight it held that sent you almost stumbling back and losing your balance.

"Oof-"

Your body tilts backward with the box in hand when suddenly a pair of firm hands catch your shoulders, stopping you from falling. You momentarily freeze at the sensation of large hands keeping you in place.

"Are you okay?"

A deep but velvety voice sends your heart to a screeching halt. Your head whips around to be violently smacked in the face by the sheer beauty this stranger held. Gunmetal blue eyes, dark hair, thin-framed glasses, and a face sculpted by gods? Your breath hitches.

"Oh! I-uh..."

"Do you need help with your boxes?"

You were nearly about to decline until you bit your tongue and nodded to the handsome man. You stood there like an idiot gawking at this tall pretty guy carry two of your boxes inside your apartment without breaking a sweat. Oh, he must be packing under those layers of clothing. You shake your head hoping it will dust off the heat on your cheeks.

"Th-thank you for helping me out! I'm [Name] by the way"

"I'm Akaashi and you're welcome. Let me know if you need any more help"

He gives you a curt smile that makes your toes curl as you watch him retreat inside his apartment next to yours. Oh my god, this hot dude is your neighbor, talk about luck. When you enter back inside your place with tons of boxes to unload, that's when you begin to melt replaying the moment his hands held your shoulders.

Only weeks later your tiny crush on Akaashi developed further to full-on attraction that you're too shy to admit. Denial was futile not when he's so gorgeous and has a heart of gold. Akaashi makes you revert to a high school student giggling about their first crush. You're a grown adult yet you can't help but leave tiny notes on his mail whenever you pass by his door, like a student would to their crush's locker.

You are my church, you are my place of worship. I heard you're the plug, can I be the circuit?

When Akaashi finds this unusual note sticking out of his junk mail, he is perplexed. It was written in cursive and on pink paper...oh. He pauses. It almost resembles a deja vu moment. Nonetheless, it feels familiar and reminds him of when he was younger. Akaashi thinks if this note just happens to accidentally get mixed up with his mail. It was a possibility considering his name was not on the love note, or anybody's name for that matter. He scratches his head but discards the note under a stack of paperwork on his desk.

When I got court, I hope that you're the verdict. When you're around, my insides turn inverted

You delicately wrote on a piece of light pink paper with your fountain pen, it's been a while since you've written in cursive but you made an effort. You waited until the coast was clear as you snuck the folded note between Akaashi's daily stack of junk mail by his door before slipping off to leave and get groceries. Coincidentally, you meet him at the nearby supermarket. You go short-circuited when he offers you a smile and wave as you awkwardly return the gesture. God, you feel like melting again.

Take one look at you, you're heaven's incarnate. What is this spell, baby? Please show some mercy

Akaashi has been staring at this love note for thirty minutes already, unable to decipher what he felt. This was the third letter he had received and he had concluded that it wasn't accidental. Someone was intentionally sending him love notes. He tucks the note along with the others inside his favorite book and sits back. He feels like a high schooler contemplating their emotions after receiving their first confession through their locker. Akaashi has experienced this before and even politely rejected some of those love letters back in high school because romance wasn't a priority back then but now, he doesn't know what to do but wait until this secret admirer sends another note.

Melting like an ice cream when you smile. Melting, you're a daydream, stay a while

You're stuck in your apartment on a day of watching YouTube videos. Your search history was embarrassing. You recently snuck another note in Akaashi's mail and you're here praying you'll learn to be funny, so you're watching every stand-up comedy. You hoped that it'll at least rub off on you so Akaashi will smile at everything you say. You screamed against your hands, you truly felt like a frustrated teenager and hopelessly crushing on someone out of their league. But something in your heart tells you to persist or maybe you're delusional thinking your neighbor will return your feelings.

You got some soft lips and some pearly whites. I wanna touch them in the dead of night

For the first time, Akaashi smiles at the love note he has received. Albeit, small but visible. Something stirred in his chest that he had to double-take. He re-reads the note over and over again, he assumes that his secret admirer is a true romantic, and something about it makes his insides go fuzzy. He has zero clue about who could be giving him love notes, but god he wants to know.

Your smile ignites just like a candlelight. Then somehow, I know everything's alright

You wrote another letter and you were about to stick it in Akaashi's junk mail as always when you almost got caught. Thankfully, you slip the note in your pocket when Akaashi goes to pick up his mail, you pout, and you realize you're a second late to sneak your note. Your neighbor notices you and waves.

"Hi, [Name]"

"Hey, Akaashi"

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

He asks you as you nod, curiosity burning through your eyes. Akaashi invites you into his apartment and stores away his mail. Your heart stops when he shows you the oh-so-familiar pink note, and your flight or fight instincts almost go off. But you stiffy sat there, hoping your oblivious facade wouldn't give anything away.

"So, I've been getting these love notes for five days straight and I don't have the faintest idea who could be giving me these"

Akaashi shows you the love notes you've been anonymously giving him and you pretend to inspect them while deep in thought.

"Hm, it could be one of our neighbors"

"I'm not close with anyone besides you, [Name]"

"Oh"

God, you hope the blush won't be evident on your face. You pretend to cough on your hand to cover your face as you try to make up an excuse to leave because you have no idea how long you'll last without crumbling in front of Akaashi.

"I'll let you know if I find someone suspicious, heh"

"Okay"

Akaashi watches you leave his apartment, seemingly in a rush. He sighed and was about to sit back in his office when he noticed a folded pink piece of paper left on his couch, right where you sat. He holds his breath picks up the note and unfolds it to reveal the same cursive handwriting to his secret admirer. His mouth goes agape. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but if he were right and you were his secret admirer, he wouldn't be more glad.

"Shit! Where's the note?!"

You searched all your pockets to find the note you previously wrote for Akaashi but never got to drop it off missing. Then your sweat turns cold, did it slip from your pocket and land on Akaashi's couch? There is no way. You grabbed a nearby pillow and screamed against it. You were beyond mortified. That's it, you're moving places again, probably in another country. Preferably while also changing your clothes, your hair, your face, and your name. It was impossible to look Akaashi in the eye anymore once he found that note and discovered you're his secret admirer, you doubt the guy has feelings for you in the first place.

You hugged your pillow and frowned, you shouldn't have done that. When you're about to sulk in your room and play some sad music to help you make you feel even more pathetic, a knock on your door interrupts you. Your stomach drops, you know it is Akaashi. Great, just fucking great. Maybe you should jump out of your window and escape? Or maybe just ignore him until he goes away? Or maybe just face him like a grown adult. You sighed and swallowed your fear as you dragged your feet towards the door.

Astoundingly, Akaashi was standing at your doorstep with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You let out a silent gasp. Your neighbor was giving you a smile that never fails to make you melt.

"[Name]"

"Akaashi, what's...what's this about?"

"I know about the notes, I know it was you"

"Oh. Why give me [Favorite flowers]?"

"Because I want to give it a shot. I want to let you know that you also make me melt like ice cream when you smile"

Hold up, could someone pinch you awake holy shit this feels so surreal. You stumble over your words before ultimately letting out a laugh, there was no way that your delusions came true and that you have an actual fucking shot with Akaashi Keiji. He stands there patiently, waiting for your answer.

"Are...are you for real?"

"I wouldn't have gotten to know you and what flowers you liked if I didn't like you"

"Holy shit, yes!"

You squeal as you go over to hug Akaashi, almost knocking the bouquet out of his hands. He laughs and holds you securely in his arms while his heart pounded wildly against his ribcage. When you both pull away and he sees that perfect smile of yours he never gets tired of seeing every day, he feels beyond ecstatic, fuzzy, and most of all, he feels melting like ice cream.

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n #Spotify

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thisismeracing · 7 months

Text

Bad religion | LH44 (patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Priest!Lewis Hamilton x fem!devil!reader ― Word count: 1.5k ― Warnings: graphic description of sex (p in v); mentions of a snake; +18. Minors DNI!!!! ― Summary: He used to be a sinner, maybe that’s why nowadays he has so much compassion for those. Your kindness, however, can be your downfall. Especially when directed towards a demon. A breach and a hand to hold were all that Yn needed to complete the Devil’s wish. Lewis should have crushed the snake’s head before she swiftly bit him.

✷ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ✷ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

“Oh fuck,” he sighed, and Yn smiled devilishly.

“You’re not supposed to curse, but then again, you’re not supposed to have sex either…” she joshed, kissing his jaw and gazing her tongue against his lips.

Lewis’ waist jolted, and he roughly freed his hands, directing one to her waist and the other to her neck, before pushing their lips together hastily. Yn whined, opening her lips and letting him explore her, her mouth, her body, using his tongue, his hands, his own body.

[...]

Shockwaves hit the two when he bottoms out in one brisk motion, and she was so wet, so ready for him, so needy, Yn could only moan and throw her head back. Lewis pounded into her, kissing her swollen lips and tasting his salty skin on her mouth, while Yn’s nails dug into his back, creating new shapes and shades around his tattoos.

[...]

Deep down he knew what she was, years of studying the bible and working in a church made him recognize the situation yet it was too late for both of them.

His deep thrusts made her clit grind against his pubic and she screamed his name like one does a prayer. She consecrated his body while he worshipped hers. Nothing had ever felt that intense to them.

Hell had never given her anything close to what she was having.

And Heaven had never revealed itself to Lewis.

Up until that moment.

Because if that woman was hell, he would endure any misery to have her body against his again. To be inside her. To preach about her thighs and cunt.

He couldn’t even find on himself to feel profane, or dirty.

Maybe because it was a dream, or he tried to tell himself that because the second his body shattered in pleasure and he felt her own orgasm milky him, her face buried in the space between his shoulders and neck, Lewis felt a sting on his neck [...].

Read the full piece here

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this little preview, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia) for proof and beta-reading this <3. You can read this piece and others that will be posted during this month by subscribing to my Patreon (here)🤍. Let me know your thoughts on this sneak peek!! *mwah*

Taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @saintslewis @crimeshowjunkie @iloveyou3000morgan @fdl305 @scorpiobleue @chaoticevilbakugo @carojasmin2204 @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @schumacheer @crashingwavesofeuphoria @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @soph1644 @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @nzygftoji @jamie2305 @goldenalbon @fastcarsandshit @balekanemohafe @graciewrote @leclercsluv @alessioayla

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prettyboyeddiemunson · 7 months

Note

eddie making the catholic reader recite the 10 commandments he made for himself instead of the original ones omg

reader is 18+ in this fic, as in all other of my fics!

——

“say it again, y/n. and this time, don’t mess it up.”

she whines, her hands in his hair as he absolutely devours her pussy. she tries to find the words again but can’t, any coherent sentence she may have formed going out the window as soon as his lips envelop her clit. he moans against her, his eyes on her face, waiting for her to repeat what she just said. she swallows, moaning shakily as he laps at her inner lips. his skillful tongue massages each side slowly, as he gives her the opportunity to speak properly.

“i said,” she begins, brushing some hair from his eyes, “commandment number two. ‘you must take my name in vain, especially when being fucked like a slut.’”

“good girl,” eddie praises, shaking his head back and forth as she moans loudly. “tell me what commandment four is again.”

“d-dishonor…” she says, cut off as two of eddie’s ringed fingers push inside of her. “eddie!”

“no,” he says, withdrawing them and slapping her cunt, hard. “tell me what it is.”

she swallows back a mewl as eddie fingers her again, her legs shaking as he pumps them rapidly. he curls them around her sweet spot and she cries out, more wetness running onto his hand as his mouth settles over her clit again. he doesn’t take his eyes off of her, instead waiting patiently for what her response will be.

“‘dishonor & disobey your…your church and your school, and your…mmm…parents…’”

he slaps her pussy again, this time withdrawing his head as well. “say it the right way.” she whines, but does as he asks. “satisfied now?”

“no,” he says, rubbing two fingers through her wet pussy before pushing them inside of her. “not until you cum. are you gonna cum for me like a good girl, princess?”

“yes,” she breathes, her eyes on his as she begins to recite more commandments. “‘you shall not covet another man’s dick,’ ‘you must serve me every day,’ and ‘you shall not flirt with another.’”

“i didn’t even have to ask you that time,” he says, eating her out feverishly with a series of groans. “fuck, you taste so good, baby. so fucking sweet and wet for me.”

“gonna cum,” she says, bucking against his face as her thighs begin to quiver more violently around his head. “gonna…I can’t hold back…”

“then don’t,” he says, sucking her clit and swirling his tongue around it. “cum for me. make a mess all over my face, sweetheart.”

“want me to say another commandment?” she asks, tugging his hair harder.

“save them for a little bit,” he says. “just sit back and enjoy it now.”

and that’s exactly what she does. three of eddie’s fingers slide inside of her, fucking her roughly, while his mouth works magic on her swollen, soaking clit. his hair is in his face, his big brown eyes settling on hers, her thighs wrapped around his head. it doesn’t take much more to send her to orgasm, and she cums hard against his face & fingers as he keeps going through her high. he only stops when she’s signaled that she’s had enough, kissing his way up her body and stopping at her tits to kiss & suck on them.

“your boobs are the prettiest in the whole fucking world,” he breathes, sucking ravenously on a nipple before tugging it in his teeth. “i can never get enough.”

“just say you’re obsessed,” she teases, mewling as he kisses between them. “come here, i wanna kiss you now.”

“i’m so fucking obsessed with YOU,” he says, kissing up to her neck. he sucks a hickey there, biting lightly before coming up to kiss her lips. he kisses her passionately, full of so much love and lust. “i fucking love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, flipping them over so that he’s on his back and she’s hovering over him. “ready to hear the rest of those commandments?”

“you know it,” he says, spanking her ass as she giggles. “you know the ones i want to hear.”

she hums thoughtfully, tossing her hair out of her face before leaning down to kiss his neck. “‘you shall not flock to someone who wants to steal what is mine.’”

“that’s right,” he breathes, moaning as she finds the sweet spot on his neck. she sucks, leaving an identical mark as was on hers. “that means harrington.”

“you don’t have to worry about him,” she says, nipping at his collarbones before kissing over his demon tattoo.

he pulls her head up roughly, forcing her to look at him. “be careful around him, y/n. i trust you, but I don’t trust him.”

“yeah, I know,” she says, licking his spider tattoo as she looks up at him. “I don’t wanna be thinking about him right now; it’ll put me out of the mood.”

“fair enough,” he says, holding her hair back as she sucks one of his pierced nipples into her mouth. “oh shit, baby…that’s so good.”

“commandment number eight,” she breathes, sucking his nipple as she swirls it with her tongue. “‘you shall tell everyone who you belong to and who your true god is.’”

“that’s fucking right,” he says, moaning as she sucks his nipple harder. “christ, you’re such a blasphemous little thing, aren’t you?”

“you made me that way,” she says, winking at him as she gave his other nipple the same treatment. “it’s all your fault.”

“tell me who your god is, y/n,” he says, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “look me in the eye and tell me.”

“you,” she breathes, pulling his thumb into her mouth and sucking as he groans. “eddie munson.”

“good fucking girl,” he says, gently patting her cheek. “go on. worship my dick, the way i always like.”

she kisses down his body until she’s on her knees between his legs. she slowly licks a stripe from his balls to the tip of his throbbing, flushed erection, making eye contact as she does so. his breath catches, one arm behind his head as he props himself better against his pillows. he watches as she kisses his shaft, sloppy, open mouthed kisses that leave him breathless. she jerks him off as she sucks on his balls, her eyes on him as she does so. he whines, bucking up into her touch as she licks the outline of his vein.

“commandment number one,” she says, sucking on his tip and swirling her tongue around the slit. “‘you shall worship me and only me. There is no other god that you may drop to your knees for.’”

and with that, she spits on his dick and takes him into her mouth. eddie moans, both hands coming down to settle in her hair as she takes all of him down her throat. she gags, but quickly gets her reflex under control. she begins to bob her head, jerking him off slowly as she brings her head up. his breath is coming in ragged pants, his head tipped back and eyes half-closed as he takes in everything she’s doing. her mouth is divine, and the sight of her like that is one of the sexiest he’s ever seen. he wishes the camera were handy; he had photos like that already of her, but he always wanted more.

“that’s it, baby,” he praises, moaning breathlessly as she hollows her cheeks. “worship me, like a good fucking girl.”

she gags again, and the sounds of a blowjob quickly fill the room. eddie watches her, thrusting up on occasion, and holding her hair out of her face so that he can see her. she hollows her cheeks further, her tongue playing with his tip every time she brings her head up while she jacks him off. when she needs a moment, she pops off, but keeps pumping his thick cock in her fist.

“the last two,” she pants, lining her breasts up with his cock before rubbing them against it. she places his dick between them, squeezing her tits around it before encouraging him to thrust. “‘you shall not cheat’ and ‘you shall not commit any indecent act with another.’ bet you wouldn’t want me to give steve a titty fuck, would you?”

“don’t wanna think about him right now,” he said, moaning as she pressed her breasts even tighter against his aching, needy cock. “right now, I just wanna paint those pretty tits in cum.”

“do it,” she said. “maybe i’ll even say a few hail mary’s while you do it.”

“if you do that, i’ll cum right now,” he said, thrusting upward as he fucked her tits. “i swear to god.”

“hail mary, full of grace,” she began. “the lord is with thee. blessed art thou amongst women—“

but that’s as far as she got before eddie is cumming, hard and fast, all over her chest. she moans her appreciation, drawing back to gather some of it on her fingers. she pops them into her mouth, groaning at the taste and deep throating them. eddie mewls, pulling her up for a hard kiss as he pushes her onto her back. he smirks down at her after breaking the kiss, pinning her wrists to the mattress as he hums.

“what should I do with you now, princess?” he asks, seeming to ponder the question. “maybe i could teach you another prayer.”

“or maybe,” she says, trying to fight out of his grip as she smirks, “you could worship ME again.”

“oh yeah?” he asks, dragging her to the end of the bed and kneeling between her open legs again. “i think I like the sound of that. wanna recite the act of contrition, baby? and you can’t mess it up.”

“or what?” she asks, raising a brow.

“or i’ll have to bend you over and spank you,” he says, pulling her wet cunt to his face and beginning to devour her once more.

——-

mini taglist: @littledemondani @andvys @wroteclassicaly @succubusmunson @eddieschains @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @sunkillerdreamer @impulsive-th0ts @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @hideoutside

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb

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joebrrrow · 1 year

Text

Refunds || Joe x F!Reader (NSFW)

You were no stranger to Joe’s hijinks.

word count: 3,237

warnings/contents: blowjob, daddy name-calling (i'm sorry joe i'm just saying what we're all thinking), dom!joe/sub!reader dynamics, rough sex (i'm sorry joe), choking, full mind-break, degradation (but also, like, praise), bimbo behavior-fication, dirty talk

author’s note: crawling out of my hole to give you this filthy filth in celebration of the bengals going to the AFC championship! now excuse me i must go take a cold shower and get to my scheduled exorcism because i need church after writing this.

don’t be shy to like and reblog if you enjoyed. as creators say, likes are amazing but reblogs go a long way in sharing my work. thank y’all!!!!!

For more of my smut, read Sturdy. For fluff, check out Capturing You, because your girl can do both. <3

enjoy under the cut!

No matter what, Joe was a winner to you.

And you never really let it get to your head too much, especially when you were watching him from the stands, whatever the team’s score was. You were endlessly proud of him, win or lose, because you’d been there from the very beginning. Even when he was still at Ohio State and barely even saw the field, you gleamed with pride. But honestly, it had been pissing you off a little bit—and you’re typically mild-mannered, some might even go as far as saying meek—to hear everyone doubt Joe, and the whole team for that matter.

“It’s just trash talk, baby,” Joe would soothe you the moment you heard about all this bullshit about neutral sites, ticket sales. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and reached over to close your laptop, cutting out the noise in a way. “If that gets to ya, you should hear what some guys say on the field.” He cracked a grin and that made things better.

You tried out logic for a while. It wasn’t like pre-selling tickets to a matchup was unheard of; it was basically customary in any sport. Even protocol. And that satiated you for now. You didn’t notice, but Joe actually liked seeing a little bit of that fire in you—this newfound willingness to prove someone wrong. You were always someone who didn’t care too much about what others thought, which was why he wanted even more to win against the Bills on Sunday, just for you; because as much as you were proud of him no matter what, he also liked your praise just as much. He wanted to make you proud.

So come Sunday, when it was the fourth quarter and the Bills were too behind to catch up to the Bengals’ score and that timer was running out, you couldn’t hide how happy you were for him. You watched him from the stands with a big stupid smile on your face because this was who Joe Burrow was—your Joe. He was a winner, a champion, and the sooner people started to realize that, the better. And what a helluva way to prove them wrong with just four words:

“Better send those refunds.”

—

You sat there, mouth slightly falling open. The bright light of your phone’s screen illuminated your face in the otherwise dark parking lot, at a gas station somewhere in the outskirts of Cincinnati, about five minutes away from yours and Joe’s place. You were catching up on all the social media, retweeting things, reposting stories, acknowledging everything you could that was singing Joe’s praises because goddamn if he didn’t deserve it. And that was when you caught this clip of Joe’s postgame interview.

Better send those refunds.

You were no stranger to his hijinks. You loved how fired up he got after a great game and an even better win. You loved how he was slowly opening up to the media, showing a little more of the goofy person you know him to be (though you secretly wished he’d kept it all for you). But this… Something was different about this.

You were suddenly startled by Joe opening the door to his car, entering the driver’s seat and handing a plastic bag over to you. Without much thought, you grabbed it. “What’s this?” you asked.

He snickered at this. “Your snacks, sweetheart.” Oh, that’s right—you had run out of your celebratory post-game Oreos at the house and wanted him to grab a quick pack.

With a chuckle, you played it off. “Thanks.”

He started the car and began pulling out of the parking lot, but not without question. “You good, baby?”

“Yep,” you croaked out. You turned beet red and thanked God it was dark outside so he couldn’t see. You both laughed about how your voice broke just then.

A few seconds passed before you spoke again. You willed up some confidence. “It’s just… You know, I can’t let it go. About how they were selling those tickets before they even knew who was going to play in the Championship.”

“Ah, I know, babe.” He reached over and patted your knee. “But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause we’re gonna be there next week.”

“I know, I know, but… What was it you said at that interview after the game? ‘Give the tickets back,’ or something like that?” You purposely watered down his words, wanting him to correct you.

“Nah, nah, you’re butchering it,” he said, laughing. “I don’t remember what I said, really.”

“Oh, c’mon. You remember,” you insisted teasingly. “I bet you had it bubbling up. You thought of it last week, probably, and kept rehearsing it over and over again so you got it right by the time you had to say it.”

Joe scoffed, reaching over and ruffling your hair. “Where’s this comin’ from, bug?” His sweet little nickname for you. He always treated you like you were small, and you liked that. But you didn’t want to sink into it, not yet—you wanted this first.

“Just say it. You remember what you said.”

“Hmm.” At a red light, he stopped the car and looked over at you. His perplexed expression was smoldering even when dimly lit crimson.

Biting your lip, you waited.

“I know what I said,” he finally confessed.

“Yeah?” you squirmed a bit in your seat. The light was still red.

“I said, ‘Better send those refunds.’”

“Mmm.” You couldn’t hold back your whimper. It was involuntary. Sometimes it shocked you, still, the effect that Joe Burrow had on you. Even after all these years. But you caught yourself and added, “Mmmhmm. That’s what you said.”

He didn’t let you get away with it, though. He never did.

As the light turned green, Joe slowly accelerated forward; you were the only car on these quiet streets. He said nothing. You bit back your smile as you looked out of the window, pretending like nothing happened.

Then, you felt it. He brought his right hand down from the wheel to pat your knee again, but it wasn’t a silly pat this time. He started rubbing his huge hand on your knee, slowly lowering it to your inner thigh. You thought his touch was going to burn a hole in your leggings. But you weren’t done.

“Better send those refunds,” you repeated, somewhat more enunciated, voice a bit breathy. But you didn’t want to make it obvious that his touch had already gotten to you; that you’d already been soaked from the moment he got back in the car. You let out a soft chuckle. “I mean, it’s true. They knew better than to doubt you.”

“Hmph.” Joe seemed to be satisfied by your words.

“I mean, right? God, this should show them that they’re stupid for even thinking about selling those tickets in the first place, whether it’s protocol or not,” you continued. His hand on your thigh just kept moving higher and higher. Your next words came out with a slight gasp: “You’re the fucking best, Joe. And if they don’t know that by now…”

When his hand finally snuck between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your warm pussy over your leggings, you let out a slutty moan. “Daddy.” It was, like that whimper earlier, involuntary. Conditioned.

“Shh. Tell me.” It was the first time you’d heard his voice in a minute, and it was suddenly colored so deep, lustful.

You knew what to say. “I just think you’re—you’re the best, daddy.” Your confidence had waned off a bit, replaced by this slightly bimbofied persona only he knew how to dig out of you. “And you’re so right… they better send those refunds.” You nodded, biting down hard on your lip as he rubbed your clit in circles. You looked at him even if he wasn’t looking at you back; his focused expression as he drove was all you needed to keep getting wetter and wetter.

But you were suddenly disappointed as you felt the car slow down and pull into your house. Those were the fastest five minutes of your life. You wanted it to be like the last time you got frisky in the car, Joe so desperate that you pulled off to the side of the road and fucked you right there. You supposed this was better, though; you could both get out of your clothes easier and didn’t have to wrestle with a pile of winter coats. (It was summer the last time you had car sex; your tiny shorts were easy to pull off.)

“Let’s go,” Joe spoke, stepping out of the car. He was calm as you both headed inside the house.

You dropped off your coat and bag on the wall hook by the door and pathetically set the plastic bag on the kitchen island, feeling his presence somewhere behind you. You looked up at him, biting your lip, seeing him standing in the doorway. He’d taken his shoes and coat off already, just in his warm-ups. When you caught his gaze, his ocean blue eyes looked expectant of you.

“Yes, daddy?”

That was enough to set him off. He walked over to you, towering over you and backing you up against the kitchen island. You gulped, looking up at him. You loved when he made you feel small.

“Better send those refunds.”

You feigned confusion. “Huh?”

Abruptly, he grabbed you by your waist and turned you around, bending you over the counter. He had a fistful of your hair and his cock pressed hard against you, and you felt him breathing in your ear. “I said, you’d better send those refunds.”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, looking at him through your peripherals, brows curled up. Your mouth hung agape, moaning as he reached his free hand down and grabbed your ass. Just from this, your head was already swirling with dumb pleasure. “Right away, daddy.”

He turned you around and pulled you onto your knees by your hair. You braced yourself by grabbing his thighs and didn’t dare break eye contact from him. Even if his bulge was right in your face. This was the first time in a long time, since the beginning of today, that he’d gotten a look at you. He smirked; you knew he thought you were gorgeous, he didn’t have to say it. This was about him.

“Suck my cock.”

You did as you were told, pulling down his sweatpants and not even allowing yourself a second to admire his length. You took the shaft in your hand and directed the tip of his cock into your mouth, closing your eyes as you expertly began sucking him off. There was no slow burn here; that already happened in the car.

Joe still had your hair in his hand, and it gripped tighter as you blew him. “Mmm. Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he growled. He broke eye contact from you for a moment to lean his head back and close his eyes, focusing on the sound of you gagging over his cock. You took him as far as you could then fucked the back of your throat with the tip of his cock, which was slick in your drool. Your hands held onto his thighs as you whimpered with your mouth full. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, you didn’t break eye contact from him; it made you so wet to watch him go all primal.

Then he grabbed two fistfuls of your hair to make pigtails. You knew that he wanted to control your mouth, so you held your hands behind your back like a good girl and you let him throw your head back and forth against his cock. Your eyes welled up with tears.

He looked down to watch you as he fucked your throat, and he looked so proud to own you. It made you want to be even better at being throatfucked, like you would go to college and get a degree in being a good throat to fuck if you could. You wanted to serve him in that way. You made filthy, wet gagging noises, and babbled when you could; your face was coated in your own drool.

“Alright, get up,” he said, pulling his cock out of your mouth and hoisting you to your feet by your pigtails. He let go of your hair and you sighed in slight relief from the new lack of tension.

“Y-yes daddy,” you gurgled out. Your makeup was ruined, but you still looked pretty to him. He kissed you messily, grabbing both of your cheeks with one hand of his squeezing your face together. Then he gave your face a nice, solid slap.

“You gonna be a good girl for daddy, huh? You gonna take this dick?” he asked, breathless.

You whimpered and nodded. “Yes,” you whimpered. “I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Satisfied with your pleading, he forced you on your stomach, bent over against the kitchen island. He pulled down your leggings and lifted your jersey up, and as you watched him over your shoulder, you caught his smirk. Of course you were wearing his number. You knew he liked seeing you wear it and loved fucking you in it even more.

With one hand on your back and the other on the base of his shaft, he slowly directed the tip of his cock inside of you, not shy to groan as he felt how wet you were. “Fuck. Look how wet you are,” he said, tone as if to humiliate you, but you loved it when it came along with praise. “You’re fucking soaked. Are you that much of a slut that seeing me win gets you this fucking soaked and slutty, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, finding yourself almost begging for him to slide in all the way. “Y-yes, daddy. I’m a slut,” you barely got out. Your words were somewhat nasally and high-pitched; you were almost full bimbo at this point. “Please. Please.”

He chuckled at this, pulling back out. He rubbed his tip along the wet, slick slit of your cunt. “Please what?”

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me. I can’t take it,” you begged. “I’ll—I’ll get on those refunds right away, daddy. I should’ve known better.”

Joe growled. Satisfied, he shoved deep into you, and held his cock there; you felt his balls graze up against your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned. You braced yourself against the kitchen island, staring at the Oreos.

Then, Joe started to fuck you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and everything went black. You bathed in the pleasure that was his cock pummeling your tight little pussy. You loved how rough he was being. You were losing yourself. You were being owned by Joe Burrow. You were his piece of pussy, and only that.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you moaned in conjunction with each thrust of his as he took you from behind.

His hands gripped tightly on your waist, letting out primal groans as he fucked you hard. He wasn’t holding back, and you loved it. “Oh, c’mon, baby. You better get to it,” he spoke, breathily, and yet confidently. “You were gonna do something for me, weren’t you? Before you went all brain-stupid and cock-slutty for your daddy?”

You hated how easily his words came out when all you could think about was his dick obliterating your pussy. The words were jumbled in your head: “Refunds, better send.” And they came out repeatedly in whines. “Refunds. Daddy. Send. Yes. Fuck. Me.”

One of his hands left your waist and you almost began sobbing at that lack of contact only if he didn’t reach up and grab your throat, pulling you up from the cold marble of the kitchen island so you could stand up a bit and watch him fuck you. He held your throat tightly, and you looked over your shoulder as best as you could to catch a blurry image of the most handsome fucking man you’ve ever seen hammer into you. He shoved his thumb in your mouth and you sucked happily. You repositioned your hands on the counter to hold yourself up and continue to be a good slut. His other hand spanked your ass.

“That’s right, baby. Better send those refunds like the stupid fuckin’ bimbo you are,” he growled out, words accented with that smirk you knew he wore while he fucked you. “Take this big fuckin’ daddy cock in your wet, tight little pussy, baby.” His hand left your throat only to dig under your shirt and grab your tits, tugging that bralette down and off your tits. He roughly pinched your nipple and you whined out. Your tits bounced freely in rhythm with his incessant, merciless fucking.

“D-daddy,” you whined, desperately.

“Aw, what’s that? You can’t say anything?” There he was again, pulling out coherent sentences while you babbled.

You’d gone full bimbo by this point. You were far gone, and your only compass was his dick inside of you. You knew nothing else about fuck-all until his cock was drained inside of you, and you would be a good slut-servant until he was done.

But goddamn, you were about to cum. “I—” you whimpered out. “If you keep fucking me like that, daddy, I’m gonna cum.”

He laughed at this. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. Put your—daddy, please—”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence. Joe knew what you needed. His hand left your tit if only to grab your throat again, and his other hand held onto your waist, keeping you still. Otherwise, you’d squirm away from him. He knew you were uncontrollable when you came.

“What’s that, baby? Use your words for daddy, c’mon.” He smirked.

“I’m gonna—” you cried out.

He timed his thrusts with these next few words, feeling close to climaxing himself: “You’d. Better. Send. Those. Fucking. Refunds. You. Fucking. Slut.”

And with that, you came hard all over his cock, clenching your tight, wet walls around him. “God, daddy! I’m cumming! Yes! Don’t stop!” You closed your eyes and indeed, squirmed around a ton, and he had to hold your waist to keep you still.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum, too, baby.” He grunted, wrangling and fucking you at the same time, and at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, shot his white hot load deep inside you. You felt him filling you up, the warmth of his load sinking deep into your stomach. You both slowed down, breathing hard.

With him still inside of you, you slumped forward, laying your top half down on the counter. You looked over your shoulder up at him, then cracked a grin.

And he broke into a smile, too, gleaming with pride. He’d never admit it, but you turned him into such an animal. It was even sweeter when the clouds had all cleared and all you both felt was bliss.

You lifted a heavy, lifeless arm to reach across the counter. You pulled the plastic bag closer and took out the package of Oreos. Barely functioning and breathing hard, you put all your effort into ripping that stupid, plastic seal off the package, revealing three rows of double-stuffed sandwich cookies. You pulled one out and offered it over your shoulder to him. “Want a celebratory Oreo, champ?” you asked.

He took it with a snicker. “Yeah, sweetheart. I sure do.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #myfics*

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