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little-diable · 3 years

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A Preacher's Punishment - Preacher James Barnes (smut)

Here we go again, another super filthy Preacher imagine. Hell's awaiting us. Remember that your feedback and your comments are very much appreciated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has always been rebellious and even months after first joining the convent the reader is still a trouble maker. Her case calls for Preacher James Barnes, hopefully his punishment will put her back in her place.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (m), degrading, dom!Bucky, sex with a preacher, wrong use of a bible, religious connotations

Pairing: Preacher!James Barnes x nun!reader (around 3k)

„Don’t you dare look away from me now.” Sister Jane cried out as (y/n) rolled her eyes, trying to shift her weight back onto her toes, away from her aching knees. She had been forced to kneel in front of her, having to apologise for her reckless behaviour, her careless ways.

For months she had been part of the convent, dressed in black and white attires, with a big cross around her neck. (Y/n) detested each morning and evening, having to follow rules she couldn’t care less about, speaking prayers she felt burning on her tongue.

“What shall I do with you?” The sister circled the still kneeling girl, trying to fight against the urge to slap the young woman’s face. But just as her eyes found hers once again, a smile began to tug on her lips, arms falling to her sides.

“I will send you to Preacher Barnes, he will know how to put you back in line.” (Y/n)‘s breath hitched in her throat, saliva pooling in her mouth as she thought of the Preacher she was helplessly crushing on. If anything sister Jane was doing her a favour, allowing her to spend some time alone with him.

With aching knees (y/n) rose from the floor, tugging on her habit. Her mind raced, her palms were getting sweatier, heart jumping in accelerating beats. Would he punish her? Or would he just sit down with her and talk about her wrongdoings?

Her parents had always struggled to keep her in line, forcing her to stay at home, away from alcohol and young boys that could lure her in. But a locked door had never managed to stop her from sneaking out of her home. She had been a regular at parties of her friends, drinking till the morning would bleed red, telling her that it was time to go home.

Though the second police officers had dragged her home with her hands bound together, her parents had snapped. The next morning she had been forced to pack her bags, driving across the country to join a convent of nuns that lived in celibacy.

As (y/n) stepped back into the room she shared with sister May, her eyes fell upon her bag, the one she had tried to hide. Her fingers ached for her to unzip it, to thumb through the lacy panties and bras she had taken with her, not knowing where her parents were driving her to. How naive she had been, bringing her finest clothes to a home filled with women that only dressed in black and white.

Slowly she walked closer, studying the black fabric of her bag, the silvery zipper she wanted to tug on. Before she could stop herself she had opened her bag, smiling at the red lace panties her eyes fell upon. Maybe tonight she could finally wear them, maybe tonight would be her only chance to break free, turning back into the woman she once had been.

Hours later, after a shower and some tea to calm her stomach, she walked behind sister Jane. The red lace she wore stuck to her skin, wrapping itself around her like a warm embrace to keep her warm. She felt adventurous, a rebel nobody could stop from breaking out and running away.

“You will only speak if he allows it, you won’t look at him and you won’t roll your eyes at me. Do you understand?” The sister grasped (y/n)’s chin, waiting for the girl to nod her head, piercing her fingernails into her palm - a simple habit she lived with to stop herself from talking back.

“Please come in.” His soft voice ripped the two women out of their staring contest, eyes meeting his tall frame, the body hidden behind his black suit. Preacher Barnes was undeniably handsome, every nun would dream about him, even the ones that would punish the younger girls for crushing on a man twice their age.

(Y/n) stepped into his office with wobbly knees, she had never seen the room before, had only walked past his office once or twice, wondering what he was doing behind closed doors. She jumped as he placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the chair vis-a-vis his.

Sister Jane left the two after shooting another hateful glance (y/n)’s way, hoping that the girl wouldn’t embarrass her and the other nuns.

“Don’t worry about Jane, she has always been a bit harsh. Tea? Coffee?” The preacher turned away from her, giving (y/n) an opportunity to let her eyes wander down his frame, the long legs that carried his broad frame. On instinct her thighs pressed themselves tightly together, trying to stop herself from moaning out in pleasure as her mind began to paint a picture of her laying on his table, legs spread for him to nestle in between.

“Coffee, please.” Heat clashed through her, she would melt away like ice cream on a summer morning, like a burning candle in the heat of the desert. He placed their cups down on the table, settling next to her with a smile on his lips. For a few seconds he studied her with interlaced fingers placed in his lap.

“Tell me something about you, (y/n).” The way he spoke her name left her sweating, low and raspy, though soft and sweet, a written poem in the words only he knew.

“Uhm,” she had to clear her throat, eyes wandering around his room. “I joined the convent in August, I guess my parents couldn’t stay around me any longer.” A pained chuckle left her lips, eyes shamefully sticking to her hands, waiting for the Preacher to speak his mind.

“Do you believe in God?” He took a sip off his coffee, cleaning his lips with his tongue as his gaze burned into her soul. (Y/n) could only shake her head, her mouth felt dry, tongue not able to wet her lips.

“Let me tell you something, doll.” Preacher Barnes leaned back in his chair, combing one hand through his hair. “I have seen more prisons from inside than churches, my rebellious ways have pushed me into misery, just like you. But then I found God and I knew that something better was waiting for me, something worth fighting for.”

The moment felt like a déjà-vu, she had heard those words too many times before, and could swear that they had all studied them, knowing them by heart. Sister Jane’s words rang in her ears as she rolled her eyes in frustration, biting her lip to stop herself from talking back.

His chuckles filled the room, head thrown back. “Just as bratty as sister Jane has told me. Maybe words won’t do the job, stand up for me.”

She followed his command, standing on her feet with quivering limbs. Slowly he rose from his chair, fronts about to touch, (y/n) could smell his cologne, the musky scent that reminded her of the most sinful days she has lived through. His dark eyes ran up and down her body, leaving her waiting for his following order.

“Unbutton your habit.” She didn’t move, hands sticking to her sides, not daring to move even close to the buttons that kept her red underwear hidden. Now she cursed herself for being that stupid, not even a shirt had found its way beneath her habit, too confident and cocky for her own good.

“Do I need to do it for you? Are you that dumb, can’t even unbutton her own clothes.” His breath crashed against her lips, tingling on her skin. She felt her arousal dripping into her panties, wetting the skin with every word he spoke. Preacher Barnes placed a hand on her waist, pulling her even closer to reach the black buttons.

One button after another popped open, exposing more of her red lace, the tits she had pushed together with her tight bra. He clicked his tongue, eyes admiring the view. Since the day he had met her, there had been something simmering deep inside of him, threatening to spill, to fill his every vein and vessel. God was testing him, he was sending the most sinful woman his way, wondering if he would give into the devil’s calling.

“Onto your knees, open on page 225.” He placed the bible down in front of her, falling back in his chair once again. (Y/n), now dressed in only her bra and panties, dropped to her knees, opening the holy book with trembling fingers.

She couldn’t find the page, fingers too sweaty, eyes too glassy to concentrate on the bible. But the Preacher didn’t move, he waited and waited, a sadistic man that found pleasure in her struggling.

“First your habit and now the bible? I guess Jane was right, we need to find something else to shut you up with.” Her eyes followed his hand, down to his trousers, the silvery zip that twinkled in the faint light. It took three long breaths for him to undo his trousers, bulge clearly pressed against his underwear.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure whether to run away and hide or to open her mouth like the greedy girl she was. Her lips parted, exposing her tongue to the chuckling man, ready to swallow him all. But James wasn’t ready to give in just yet, he palmed his cock, stared at her face, the mouth she had opened for his heavy length.

Her eyes screamed at him to fuck her, to fuck her bratty ways right out of her, right on his table. Perhaps he could battle the devil in the dance he’d lure her into, how he would sway her with his cock sitting between her walls, perfectly ripping her in half. She was doing him a favour, was a figure in his play to find redemption.

“You know what you’re doing, that much I have to give you.” James panted, eyes fighting to stay open, holding onto the feeling of his calloused fingers pumping his velvety skin. (Y/n) used his short moment of distraction, pushing the bible closer to his frame, using it as a pillow for her aching knees.

Her hand met his, carefully pushing his fingers away to replace them with her own. For a second she felt lost with his hard length in her grasp, wondering what the hell she was doing on her knees for a preacher, but the moan that spilled from his lips pushed her back into her headspace, lowering her head to run her tongue across his tip.

James’ head rolled back, exposing his neck to her hungry eyes. Slowly she pushed herself down on his cock, trying not to choke around him. He twitched, she panted. (Y/n) hallowed her cheeks for him, pumping what she couldn’t reach with her trembling hands, using his thighs to keep her balance.

“You’re such a needy slut, choking on my dick while kneeling on a bible, there’s nothing I can do for you. You’re lost.” She didn’t pay any attention to his words, kept pushing herself to her limits, trying to swallow around him. Her tongue traced his veins, danced around his girth, trying to tease him for as long as humanly possible.

“And since you’re already lost, I won’t have any problems with doing this.” The tip of his shoe met her chest, pushing her onto her back with a cry falling from her lips. James grasped her hair, tugging on her roots to force her gaze upon his, grinning down on the shuddering girl.

He grasped his cock and kept on pumping his length, growling her name with sweat pearling on his forehead. She could tell that he was close, about to cum with her cowering away on the floor. No dignity was left in her body, not one single drop of confidence, just a puppet thrown away after its owner got bored with her.

His cum met her cheeks and the floor, making a mess on the holy ground, the office he would lock himself into as the devil was calling his name. She opened her mouth, desperate to catch some drops of his release, moaning at the taste.

“Clean the floor for me and then I want you out of my office, our time is over. I will see you next week.”

----

Each following day he would make sure that she would stumble across him, smiling at her with a dark look laced in his gaze. He was testing her, waiting for her to snap, but she didn’t.

(Y/n) kept to herself, not once did she dare talk back, wondering if the other girls had received a similar treatment from him. She even had called out the almighty father’s name, begging him for his guidance, a sign that would tell her what to do.

But the nights stayed dark and the days stayed calm, nothing that could push her onto the right path. She was lost and desperate to be found, no longer could she worry about sneaking out and finding places to explore, she was cowering away in her room, not daring to lift her gaze.

Seven days after their last meeting she found herself in front of him again. Naked without any fabrics hiding her skin from his eyes. James didn’t speak to her, not opening his mouth once as he watched her undress, placing herself on her knees.

He didn’t let go of her head as he pulled her towards his table, tugging her across the floor like a bag he didn’t care about. (Y/n) got pushed down on the table, watching him step out of his black trousers, pumping his already hard cock as he moved closer.

As she called out his name, hoping that he would snap into motion, James spat onto her exposed cunt, watching his saliva run down her folds, pooling on the wooden ground between her legs. Things you would only see in the movies the sisters would blush at naming seemed to be set in motion, primitive things you could only dream of.

“I-” she wanted to ask him for a second to breathe, her head was spinning, lungs burning from her rapid breathing. But the look he shot her seemed to shut (y/n) up, body tingling in anticipation, wondering how a man of God could be that dark and twisted.

“You won’t say a word, I promise if you go against me I won’t let you cum. Sluts like you don’t deserve to have their own will.” Her eyes rolled into her head, she gasped at the feeling of his cock stretching her walls, pounding into her like she was already used to his size.

She whimpered, she cried, she struggled to keep on breathing. James couldn’t help but admire her, looking fucked out, ready to drown in his embrace. With each stroke he managed to push deeper into her tightness, fucking her like she deserved to be fucked, ruthless and rough. (Y/n) wouldn't have a chance to stop him, could cry for help, though nobody would ever help her, they all knew better than to interrupt a preacher’s punishment.

“Only a sinner like you could take my cock, after tonight you will respect your sisters and you will thank God for each day he lets you live.” He pushed his fingers into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue, forcing her to swallow down the cry that threatened to claw through her.

Her back rubbed against the wooden table, skin scratched open, bleeding onto the surface. James cradled her head in his hands, softening each blow against the table, making sure that she’d stay conscious.

But (y/n) felt herself slipping into another dimension, away from the convent, from the preacher that fucked her like she was a regular coming to visit on a Friday afternoon. He was getting his fill, using her for his satanic pleasure and lust. And she didn’t mind.

“Tell me, how does it feel to be fucked by your Preacher?” Tears ran down her cheeks, swollen lips parted to let her words flow from them.

“So good, feels so good. I’m so close, can I cum? Please let me cum.” (Y/n) cried out, making sure that every nun could hear her begging. He replied with another ferocious thrust, tip meeting her swollen spot, pushing her further into the burning flames of hell.

“Cum on my cock, scream my name. God won’t help you this time.” And she came so powerful that the angels fell from their comfortable seats on the clouds above. Her cunt fluttered around his length, squeezing him tightly as if he would push her away any moment now.

James fucked her through her high, cupping her burning cheeks with his big hand. It took him three more thrusts to relieve himself into her tightness, forcing her to take every single drop of his cum.

“Tonight you will apologise to sister Jane and you will thank her for bringing you to me.” He pulled out of her with a groan rumbling through him, throwing her habit down onto her frame, making sure that she would dress herself. James didn’t give (y/n) any time to wipe away her smudged mascara nor could she untangle her hair.

Embarrassment flooded through her as she walked through the church with his cum dripping down her legs. But perhaps she still hadn’t learned her lesson yet, because with a smile on her face she ran her thumb up her thigh, licking her skin clean.

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#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years

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Sunday Sinday

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Priest AU]

Warnings: priest!Bucky, explicit language, smut, very desecrating and blasphemous thoughts and actions, masturbation, corruption kink, sex in a public place, hair pulling. Both parties are consenting adults.

Summary: Father James preaches at Mass, and you think there’s no better time to sin than Sundays.

A/N: Yesterday (9/9) was my 21st birthday and I’m posting filth to celebrate it. @whateveriwant and I share one horny braincell and we had the same idea, so here it is bb.

Wide shoulders straining his black cassock, long chestnut hair pulled back, errant strands framing his chiselled face, thick rimmed glasses perched on top of his nose, Father James should be the depiction of all that’s holy, image and likeness of God himself, and instead he’s temptation in the flesh, and all you can think about as you do the sign of the cross and sit in the back pew is how much you want to do wrong with him.

“I confess to Almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do.”

His soft voice fills the room, subtle blush on his cheeks, the memory of all your shared sins in the fleeting looks he sends your way. His impure fantasies of you on your knees, your pretty lips around his cock, you taking his virginity of the altar, fucking under the cross, in the confessional, the filthy whispers in your ears, words he never imagined would come out of his mouth, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He never stood a chance against temptation, not if you’re the one luring him straight to Hell.

You tune out of his sermon, merely standing, sitting, and kneeling as you see the others do: there’s the column he stood against as you sucked him off, the bench he bent you over and spanked you for the first time, the backdoor where the cleaning lady almost caught you.

“We listen to a reading from the New Testament.” he announces, clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, and opens the Holy Bible, fingers scanning over the verses he knows by heart.

There’s guilt in preaching what he doesn’t practice, but there’s also that exhilarating feeling of omnipotence that comes with being in love, that rush of adrenaline of loving in secret and doing the impossible to not get caught whilst wishing you would be.

The devoted churchgoers sitting in the front rows are too absorbed to notice you, hanging onto every word he recites, and the rest of the benches are empty, the saints and cherubs on the walls and Jesus on the cross your only witnesses as you quickly slip out of your panties and spread your legs, waiting for him to notice you, a teasing smile finding its way on your lips.

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we-”

He looks up from the pages, and his eyes meet you, or more likely what’s between your legs. He stutters, John or Matthew’s verses escaping his mind, “If we- we, uh, confess, we confess, yes, our sins- uh.”

Silence. Awkward, tense silence.

The white collar around his neck is suddenly too stiff and suffocating. Father James is like a deer caught in the headlights, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his eyes flit around the room. The blush on his cheeks betrays his sinful thoughts, and he can only hope, as he gapes in front of his audience, that they won’t notice the tent in his cassock, the sweat on his forehead, his heaving chest and the light fog forming in his glasses.

Whispers arise, ‘is Father James alright?’, the good, righteous churchgoers ask among themselves, concerned about their beloved priest.

“As I was saying.” he clears his throat after a strangled apology, his fingertips finding the verse he was reading again, “If we say we have not sinned-”

His voice is a low buzz as he resumes his sermon, tension clear in his taut muscles and dry mouth; memories of all the times he’s taken you on these wooden benches invade your minds. All the times you’ve choked him with the cross around his neck, all those he’s spent on his knees, worshipping you like a goddess.

His pure soul you’ve tarnished with yours, the filthy words that sound so right on his holy mouth, his heady taste on your tongue when you swallow him whole, your wish to ruin him.

Your walls throb, arousal pooling at your entrance and rubbing on the fabric of your skirt as you grind your core on the bench, desperate for some sort of release.

He raises the chalice. “...It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.”

You were never one for good decisions, especially not when your brain is as fogged as his glasses. And there’s no better day to sin than Sunday, afterall.

You slip a finger inside your glistening folds, looking at him through lidded eyes, wishing he would be fucking you against the altar instead. Father James’ eyes go wide as saucers when he catches sight of you playing with your dripping pussy under your skirt, and he chokes on his wine, sputtering and coughing.

You close your legs and bite your lips when someone walks up to him and pats his back to help him through his fit. He glares at you, and you stifle a laugh, the scene too comical to keep quiet.

“Forgive me.” he stutters to the small crowd, worry evident in their eyes, “It went down the wrong way.” he tries to ease the tension , “We can begin the communion rite now, if I don’t choke before.” and earns himself a collective chuckle.

The walk from the back to the front of the church seems endless. Thighs rubbing together and against your folds, a light breeze from an open door blows up your skirt just slightly, but enough that if someone were to pay attention, they’d see you’re not wearing any panties.

You’re the last of the line, and by the time you get to him, the rest of the people are kneeling, their head bowed, oblivious to the tension between their good priest and the new girl in town.

“The Body of Christ.”

It’s a whisper, soft and intimate, meant for you and only you, the blue of his eyes swallowed by darkness when you part you lips wide open and stick your tongue out, a sight he’s seen countless times before, when you’re on your knees begging him to fuck your mouth. Air stills when your tongue brushes against his trembling fingertips, a shiver running down his spine, a groan almost escaping him because of what that damn tongue is capable of. Eyes locked together as you slowly chew, his gaze following the lump of your throat as you swallow.

“Amen.”

It’s lust, it’s sin, it’s wrong but it sure feels right.

He watches your hips sway as you walk back to your seat, knowing your pussy is bare and wet for him beneath your skirt, and he can’t wait for mass to be over soon.

Incense is thick in the air, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his presence. A hand pulls your shirt and shoves you behind one of the columns to the sides where you usually wait for your sweet boy after mass. The marble is cold against your back, his hold like a vice on your flesh, and it stirs up something inside you. He’s never touched you like this, not your shy, doe eyed James, with his tentative kisses and trembling hands.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he whispers harshly, lips hovering over yours.

A gasp, you feign surprise. “Since when do you use that language? You kiss the cross with those lips?”

“You're a bad influence.” he chuckles, “Anyone could have seen.”

“But no one did.” you retort “And that’s the fun part, baby boy.”

His fingers will leave bruises behind, you muse, as you take in the fire in his eyes and his body towering over yours. Your recklessness, your attitude, your pretty face, his lack of restraint, the way he can never resist you, his body that acts on its own, the animal instinct that snaps inside him when his hips thrust against yours and his hard cock presses on your stomach.

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?”

Your tongue finds its way from his neck to the shell of his ears, leaving goosebumps behind, “Can you imagine the scandal?”

“You’re such a brat.” is his strangled response as his hips roll against you, pinning you to the wall. His breathing is ragged, his jaw clenched.

“I am a brat Father, do you think you can forgive me for that?” you purr, a hand sneaking between you and palming his aching cock through his cassock.

“I don’t know, angel.” he mumbles in your hair, a thick thigh coming between yours. “You need to repent, and then atone.”

“How can I do that, Father? I want it so, so bad.”

Your skin is scorching hot, your head dizzy as his smell clings to you and intoxicates you.

In a blur you find yourself spun around, the marble digging painfully in your cheeks, his hand groping your ass and kneading the flesh to the point that it hurts. A whimper escapes your mouth when he slowly grazes your things up to your aching core, and he cups your pussy with a possessive hold.

“You’re so wet, all for me?”

It’s a soft whisper, a stupid question maybe.

“Only for you.”

He peppers your neck with small kisses, nipping your delicate skin. Your walls flutter around nothing, you’re desperate to feel him inside you, his thick cock filling you like no else’s can.

Father James is not a patient man.

His fingers swirl around your swollen clit, and you’re pretty sure there’s slick running down your thighs. The pressure in your cunt is almost painful as you wait for him to lift his cassock and free himself.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

It’s a low vibration grunted in your ear as he strokes his length and lines himself with your entrance, his tip smearing your arousal around.

“I’m yours.”

He slams his cock inside you, and you mewl when he fully sheathes himself. He sets a low pace, taking his time to slide in and out of your, revelling in the way your walls grip him so tight.

“More.”

You’re not begging, you swear. You’re merely requesting. A command, really.

“You must say your penance first, sweetheart.” he taunts you, his wicked self coming out the more time he spends between your legs, and you find out you’re not so different after all. “An Act of Contrition, princess.”

You feel your pussy clench down on his cock, the coil getting tighter with each gentle stroke. Your mind is swirling, and you desperately cling onto the last rationality you’ve got left to remember your prayer.

“My God.” you snarl when his hand pulls your hair, and you arch your back, this new position allowing his tip to reach the sweet spot inside you, “My God, I’m sorry for my- my sins” you moan, “with all my heart.”

He fastens his pace, the depravity of this all edging him closer to his release with each sweet sound you make. “Are you really?”

“Yes, yes, oh my God. I’m sorry, in choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” you pant, tears streaming down your face, your breaths ragged, “I have sinned against you, whom I should-.” You’re sobbing, your hands clutching his shoulders for dear life, the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy so lewd as it resonates in the empty walls.

“Just like that, don’t stop, please.” you mewl, feeling the knot in your core about to unravel, your vision getting spotty around the edges.

You pull on his collar and tug him down, biting his lips, your tongue tasting his, his plush lips against yours, his hand around your neck. A harsh snap of his hips, one last look at the crying angel above you, and you come on his cock, your pussy so tight around him that he follows shortly after, his cock swelling inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. Your limbs jerk uncontrollably, your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His hot breath fans over your neck, strong arms holding you flush against his chest. A soft kiss on your forehead, a gentle smile on his lips, your heartbeat frantic, and not because of the orgasm that just wrecked you.

“Am I forgiven, Father?”

The rumble in his chest as he snickers warms your heart more than it should.

“You didn’t finish your prayers, princess. Looks like we’re gonna have to do this all over again.”

God, you love Sundays.

If you’re interested in more Father James, check this out. This one shot is part of Innocent! priest Bucky x Reader. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave some feedback, I love reading your comments.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic

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akitohsworld · 3 years

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Disclaimer: Thank you for all the love on my last smut fic. But well, since I want to commit, Imma give you another for this new year. I crave a more dominantly portrayed Simeon (I'm a switch, I have my craves ok) because I think he be the most shady of them all. I still need to accustom myself to writing these and get better, so extremely kinky shit will have to wait, but I did my best with this one as I vow to always do :D

Happy New Year everyone ❤️🌚👉👉

Warnings: NSFW, smut, light BDSM (collar etc.), fetishizing religion (Christianity), mentions of edging

Divinely Demonic (Simeon X GN!Reader)

"Take these off for me, would you?", his voice sounded innocent, but his eyes had this sadistic subtext to them. Taken aback, you reached for one of his arms, to take off his glove.

"Ah, (y/N)", you stopped, "I'd prefer you use your mouth."

An innocent smile tugged at the angel's lips. You huffed silently.

So this is how he wanted to play it?

Being in a relationship with Simeon for some time now, you could definitely say that he was all parts of a perfect lover and more. He was kind, caring and he conformed to your wishes as much as he could. For him bringing you happiness was his greatest joy and, if he was being honest, he never thought that he would feel that way about anyone. With different parts of your relationship, came different and new things to try and experience together, and so it had been a bit awkward to open up about kinks and fantasies at first. Especially, since Simeon was an angel and you didn't know where you had to draw the line. But, like everything in a good relationship, communication and an honest approach was key to fulfilling both of your desires, and indulging in this angel's fantasies in particular had you blushing and squirming in all the right ways.

You couldn't lie, the idea of Simeon's perfect, angelic, kind mask crumbling off to make space for that beautiful sadistic nature of his, sprinkled with raw un-honeyed disdain, made you quiver in excitement.

You provocatively shifted on the bed, hand grazing his arm as you took yours back to lean into for support. A shimmer glistened ever so slightly in Simeon's blue eyes when he grazed his gloved thumb over your bottom lip.

Your eyes trained on his as your lips parted, sensually engulfing his thumb, careful not to bite down on his finger. Teeth biting at the thin cloth, then pulling at it cautiously. Doing the same with his other glove afterwards. But this time, you made it a point to kiss his fingers, before taking them into your mouth, eyes trained on his. Simeon's breath hitched.

"(y/N)..", your hand traced his abdomen lightly, before suddenly sliding it into his pants, making him hiss as you palmed his already erect cock, proceeding to apply pressure to it deliciously slow.

You weren't going down without a fight. Not that it mattered, top or bottom, both was very enjoyable. But who could decline a bit more spice?

Your lips found his in an attempt to distract him from your other free hand, already pulling down the zipper as you felt him sigh into your mouth. Your fingers traced his slit just how he liked it, and he must admit, he was this close to let you just service him right then and there. Much to your dismay though, the angel smiled against the kiss. Indulging you, feeling you up himself as his tongue devoured your mouth, hands uncharacteristically squeezing your ass. He moaned.

"(y/N)"

You hummed against his lips.

The angel's hands were causing a tingling sensation on your skin as they traveled up your sides and a pleased sigh escaped your mouth.

"(y/N)."

He grabbed you by your chin and you could feel the excitement burning into your core at the change of tone in his voice. Innocence long forgotten. Simeon's eyes were dark with lust and-

"Ahh.. Where's your patience, little lamb?"

-you swore you saw a sadistic shimmer in them.

He chuckled, shaking his head in a pseudo-disappointed manner, pulling down your pants swiftly. You let out a surprised gasp as he pushed you on the bed.

"Sim- hah", his fingers traced your clothed sex, already wet with your fluids. He applied pressure to it, fingers trailing its features in a teasing build up, earning a gasp from your lips. Your inner walls clenched around something that wasn't there and you felt your core aching for his touch. Your body started squirming as you desperately tried to hold back your voice, while Simeon rubbed the spots that made you whine and hold onto him with need. When his slender fingers finally proceeded to enter you, moans and gasps followed as they signaled your growing impatience.

He slid down between your legs nerve-wrackingly slow, planting lingering kisses on your chest, abdomen and between your thighs, while your undergarments were tossed aside in a swift motion.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

His breath tickled on your skin as you felt his eyes bore into your soul. You said nothing and just looked at him tauntingly, a façade. In reality you wanted nothing else for him than to ruin you.

A smirk formed on his lips for a split second. Simeon's expression was no longer restrained, but clearly amused. Without warning his mouth enveloped your sex, tongue sliding around what made your hole clench and shiver. .

God, you wanted to touch him so badly.

"Simeon please- haah...nnh-", you felt a coil in your stomach tighten with each suck, each lick and stroke of his tongue against your sensitive spots. He groaned against your sex, sending vibrations through the sensitive nerves. You were so close, so so close-

"Fuck- Simeon-.."

He moved away.

You let out a very frustrated groan.

"No... Why?-"

"You didn't answer my question, little lamb."

He was mocking you.

"I-..", your fingers clenched at the sheets, "I forgot what you asked..."

Simeon sighed, seemingly disappointed.

"Oh no. That won't do", his gaze sent shivers down your spine, "That won't do at all."

He stood up, getting something from his nightstand.

A collar with a chain, and a Bible.

Your eyes widened. His cape slid down to the floor with a quiet thud.

"Now, now", the angel, still fully clothed hovered over you, "like we practiced."

The collar found your neck tilting it upwards as he gave the chain a light tug. He then proceeded to place the now open Bible next to your head.

"What do you say? Shall I forgive you?"

You breathed in sharply. Your mind was in shambles from all the teasing. And normally you hung onto Simeon's lips whenever he quoted the scriptures during sex because it was just so hot to you. But that didn't mean that you knew everything by heart. The Bible, tauntingly placed beside your head, was not an option. It was just there to test you and you knew that .

Your nose scrunched a bit as you tried to remember.

"M-Matthew 14 to s-"

SMACK.

His hand slapped your thigh.

You bit back a moan.

The numbers always messed you up, it was hard to remember them.

It didn't help that his fingers prodded your entrance before provocatively taking his cock out of the restraints of his clothes, rubbing it against your sex. Your hips ground up for more friction.

He just send you a teasing smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You were saying?"

You knew the answer was there, right beside your head, but no, no Simeon didn't like brats. Well maybe he did, but he didn't take too kindly to them. And today you were just not patient enough for hours of edging.

You felt his soft, warm hands rubbing at your thighs, spreading them slowly to see you better.

You were so lovely to him. Already so needy and throbbing. But that didn't mean he was going to let you off easy. A light tug on your collar told you he expected an answer.

"M-Matthew..... 6: 14 to 16, says ahh..", his fingers spread out your entrance, "F-for if you forgive them-"

He tugged at the chain, harshly.

"Guh- oth- other people when they do-"

Slowly he entered you, feeling your walls clench and sucking him in. A loud moan leaving your mouth. More, faster, deeper, is all you could think about as your legs attempted to draw him closer. Simeon groaned, brows furrowed as he indulged in the feeling of your aching entrance around him. "If you mnh do well" , he pounded into you once, hard, a guttural moan escaping you, " I'll let you cum, okay?"

That was not a question.

You nodded aggravatingly.

He then started to move at a steady, but rough pace.

"Mnh- hah siinn against you, ngh- your heavenly F-father will also...", your eyes traced down Simeon's beautiful features, " forgive you. But if you don't-"

Another harsh tug at the collar took your breath away, followed by a particular hard thrust against your hips. You felt the coil tightening inside your stomach again, trying very hard to bite back your moans and do as you're told. Just concentrate, concentrate but... You were captivated by his flushed cheeks, his skin glistening with sweat and his eyes dripping with lust.

Good God, he was so pretty.

"Mnh Do not forgive others", your gaze lingers at his crotch, shamelessly and hungrily, " their... Uh their-"

Your vision was beginning to blur, he was hitting all the right spots. As such, it was beginning to feel harder and harder to recite in a comprehensive way. Every sound coming out of your throat threating to be a moan, rather than a word. Although, that's just what Simeon wanted. He loved to see you melt away under his touch, struggling to be good for him. It was the most delicious thing, seeing you squirm under him, trying so hard to make him proud and praise you.

The wet sounds his thrusts were making echoed througout the room, ragged breaths and low moans the only thing reaching your ears.

"Ahgh-", a cut out moan escaped your throat as he tugged on the chain once again, this time with more force.

"Are you mn..distracted, little lamb?", his voice brushed your ears like feathers as your gaze shifted up to his eyes again. He slowed down his pace teasingly, making you whine. "Done already?"

You shook your head. You wanted nothing more than to make him fuck you into oblivion at this point.

"Then continue. Unless", he lowered himself onto you, lips brushing yours, "you want to be punished?" your thighs clenched at his hips involuntarily.

"Their...", you furrowed your brows in concentration, hands clenching the sheets, "sins, your Fa-"

He pounded into you harder.

"Hahh- fuck-", a harsh tug on your collar took your breath away once again, but he wasn't slowing down. On the contrary.

"hah..Continue", his lips curled into a full blown sadistic smirk. His face darkened by shadow from the light hitting him from behind made him look so divine yet so demonic, eyes shimmering like sapphires drenched in blood.

Simeon himself was getting slightly impatient, what you did to him, he never experienced before. Your walls kept sucking him in, trying to keep him there in a delicious tide, as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Your moans and prayers tugging at his own restraints, when your body reacted to him in all the right ways.

You wanted to touch him. You needed to touch him. With pleading eyes and furrowed brows you tried to concentrate one last time. Gaze fixed on him, as you recited the last part.

"Yo-hah-your", he hit a particular spot with force, your back arched and made you almost shout the rest, "F-faather- aahhn- will not forgive yoUR SINS!!"

Simeon's smile widened while cupping your cheek.

"Such a good little lamb.", you felt his fingers tracing your sex again with urgency, while he hovered over you, letting go of the chain and pressing his forehead to yours lovingly. He bit his lip, muffling his ragged breaths and moans that dared to escape him each time his hips slammed into yours.

Finally, your hands buried into his locks, kissing him passionately as you drowned out your moans in each others mouths. Tongues intertwining as if you tried to suck out your souls, claiming each other.

"(y/N)", you parted, hooded eyes staring back at you, while both of you let the pleasure take over. Simeon's hips crashed into yours with more vigor every time, hitting that one spot that made your back arch and your walls clench deliciously around his aching cock. It was all so much. Your hands found their way under his shirt, clawing at his sensitive back. Your legs pulled him even closer towards you, flexing with each thrust. He felt his member dragging along your walls as if you were trying to milk him dry, your body trying to devour everything he was giving you and more.

"Hng Simeon"

His hand movements sped up together with his pace. The coil was tightening and tightening. He was close. And so were you.

The slapping sound of flesh against flesh mixed and matched the groans and pants of this ravaging play of pleasure. You were clenching him so forcefully now, every movement, every twitch of his cock mirrored in moisture of your hole. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Hah- mn- Simeon please, please, please-", your fingers were clawing at the angel's back so much, your knuckles turned white. With powerful thrusts dragging along your walls and his fingers moving over just the right spots a loud guttural moan accompanied your spasming walls , covering him in your juices as you were driven over the edge. He moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the feeling of your orgasm bringing about his own while he bit down on your neck in an attempt to deal with all the pleasure he was feeling. His wings had sprung out and his body was shaking wildly. As you rode out your high, you held him close, his moans still spilling out of his mouth.

He rocked his cock in and out of you in a slower more sloppy pace as his arms held your head, pressing his face into your neck, while your hands gently graced through his locks and then found his wings, causing him to shiver and groan, hands clawing into your shoulders.

With time you had come to understand that angels experienced orgasms way longer and were highly sensitive and vulnerable in those moments.

"It's okay...", you panted and lovingly kissed his head, "I'm here.. it's okay.. you did amazing."

A low chuckle errupted against your neck.

"I- ahh.. should be saying that...", he turned his head to face you, eyes full of love and adoration, "You did ama-nnh-zing, little lamb.."

Now it was your turn to chuckle.

"Let's take a bath later, shall we?"

He hummed quietly and nuzzled into your neck again.

"Yeah.. let's do that"

In moments like these, you don't need to say it, to get it across. Because you share it and you feel that.

#obey me #smut #simeon #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #obey me x reader

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Text

Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 6/9

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic

Chapter 6: Wave of Remembrance

Emma paced the small room, chewing wearily on her lip as she watched the man on the bed in front of her. She felt her entire body freeze the moment Killian hit the ground, his eyes blank, staring into the sky. Her immediate fear was that she had shared too much information and overloaded him. But once she got to his side and realized he wasn’t breathing, she was terrified she had killed him.

She was grateful to Mary Margaret and her quick thinking; her medical staff was by his side almost instantly. By the time they got him breathing again, Emma was certain her own heart had stopped beating in her chest.

He groaned from his place on the bed and Emma rushed to his side, pulling his hand into hers as he blinked his eyes opened and closed.

“What happened?”

“I’m so sorry, Killian, I knew I shouldn’t have told you too much at once, dammit, I thought I had lost you.” She said through tear-soaked sobs.

He reached across his chest, wiping tears from her face. “There, there Lass, there’s no need to worry about me. I’m a survivor after all.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” She sobbed through half a smile.

“I apologize, Swan.” He grinned. “Won’t happen again.”

“What did you call me?” She paused, recognizing his use of her last name, something Killian used frequently when referring to her, she didn’t want the hope to soar in her chest.

“Uh, is Swan not your last name?” He asked in confusion. “I was sure I heard it mentioned.”

She frowned, “Yeah I guess so.” She said sadly.

“Have I upset you?”

“Of course not, no it’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re alright.” She stepped away from him and he grabbed her hand, pulling her back toward the bed. As soon as he did, he dropped her hand, staring directly at her.

~*~

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, my gorgeous Swan?”

“Yes, but you can tell me again.”

“When all of this settles and the walls come down, I’m gonna buy you a house on the ocean, and we will sit out on the porch and watch the ships come in until the sun sets over the water. And then I’m going to take you into the house and make love to you until the sun rises.”

“When will we sleep?”

“Who needs sleep when I have you, love?”

“Are you alright? Dammit, where’s the doctor?” He could hear Emma’s raised voice as his vision swirled. Reaching out he took her hand again.

“I’m alright.” He groaned. “Just another vision. Honestly, I’m fine, it didn’t hurt as bad this time.”

“You just told me you wouldn’t scare me again.” She scolded and he found himself laughing at the anger on her face. He sat up on the edge of the bed, stretching his back as he stepped down on the ground, ignoring Emma’s constant pleas for him to sit down.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to lay in that bloody bed anymore.”

“Why are you always so goddamn stubborn.” She yelled.

“Stubborn? I’m not the one insisting that someone else has stolen my life.” He returned her fire as she stood with her mouth open.

“Why is it such a bad thing for you to have his life?” She asked loudly, tears forming again at the corners of her eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, he didn’t want to yell at her, none of this was her fault. “I’m sorry Emma, it’s not my intention to hurt you.” He didn’t know how to stop her from crying, instead he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her body and holding her against his chest as she cried into him. Instinctively his hands found her hair, brushing the strands with his fingers. “Please don’t cry, love.”

She sniffled under his chin, her hands resting on his chest. He could get used to holding this woman, even if it wasn’t his right to do so.

“I miss you so much.” She said softly, before he felt her mouth against his chest, her hot breath causing a slight groan to get stuck in his throat.

“Emma…” He breathed the warning into her hair the moment he felt her mouth languidly move to his jawline. His eyes fell closed as her teeth skimmed his flesh.

“Come back to me, please.” She begged, a stray tear dripping from her face onto his skin. He couldn’t breathe, his heart was pounding through his chest, the pain traveling up his back as he groaned in discomfort and she pulled away from him, her face puffy and red, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry, oh God, Killian, I’m so sorry.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his nose as the pain subsided. When he was able to see through the slanted space of his narrowed eyes, he focused in on her face, the sadness across her features, the way she bit her lip to stop the tears from flowing, he would do anything to stop her pain. Anything.

Before his brain caught up with his body, he had pulled her into his arms again, his lips latching on to hers, a squeal of surprise escaping her open mouth. The moment she returned the kiss, his entire world exploded into light around him. It was as if the pull of her gravity had suddenly swallowed him whole. Everything else ceased to exist except for him and the woman in his arms.

His Emma. His world.

Visions invaded his thoughts, a wave of remembrance.

His mother cradling him in her arms as she sang a soft lullaby.

Mourning at the gravesite of his lost brother.

Being sworn in as an officer of the law, David Nolan standing before him as he placed his hand on the bible.

Emma Swan wrapped in a sheet, standing at the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the world below them.

Watching Emma walk away from him as he swore he would see her soon.

Standing there as Neal Cassidy stepped out of the shadows of his apartment, a gun in his hand.

Being placed in a machine as he screamed Emma’s name before the door slammed shut and the blackness took him away, burying his thoughts in the recesses of his mind.

It all came back to him in a heartbeat, an instant of pain and then nothing but the feel of the woman in his arms.

He pulled away from her, his palm resting against her cheek. “Emma?” He felt the tears pooling, blinding his vision, as her green eyes, eyes he wanted to be lost in for the rest of his eternity, stared up at him. “You’re alright!”

“Killian?” She said with a gulp as he nodded his head, pressing his lips to hers once more, he felt her entire weight push toward him, knocking him back against the wall with a laugh. Suddenly she was peppering him with kisses on his cheek, his jaw, his forehead. “It’s you.”

“Aye love, it’s me.” He said, resting his head against her forehead. “Sorry it took me so long to find you.”

She smiled at him before launching into his arms again. “I missed you so much.” She breathed against his neck, her hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He reached up, cupping a hand against hers, stilling her movement.

“Shouldn’t we inform the others?”

She bit her lip and he melted. “We can tell them in the morning.” The moment she smiled with a mischievous gleam he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bed.

“As you wish, M’lady.” He teased as he deposited her onto the bed.

He kissed her as if it were the first time their mouths had touched, like rediscovering something you thought you once lost. Holding her in his arms, their bodies sliding against each other in a mixture of heat and sweat, he swore to her that he would never leave her again. When she fell over the edge, his name on her lips, he wasn’t sure how he had survived without her for so long.

As they lay together in the dark, her heart beating against his chest, her eyes sought his as if she had something she needed to say, something weighing on her heart.

She sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist. “Killian, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He sat up, pressing his mouth to her shoulder. “You can tell me anything, love.” She turned toward him, letting the sheets fall around her.

Suddenly the door to the room swung open and Will stepped through the archway. “Emma…Oi.” His hand went to his face. “I uh…”

“Would you please wait outside.” Emma said, swearing under her breath.

“Yup, can do. Sorry ‘bout that…”

“Get out Will!” She shouted, trying to pull her sheet against her chest.

As soon as the door closed she fell against his chest. “He’s never going to stop talking about this.” She groaned.

“Go see what he wants.” He smiled. Kissing her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’d better not.” She smiled, sliding out from the sheets as he leaned against the wall, watching her dress, happy to once again feel like himself.

~*~

Emma stepped outside the door, Will was leaning against the wall.

“Oi, I told you that man would fall for you in any reality, but that didn’t mean I wanted to witness it.”

“Next time try knocking.”

“He was out cold, how was I to know you two would be shacking up right after he almost died.”

“He remembered.” She said suddenly. “That was Killian, not James.”

“Wait, what? Are you serious? And your first thought was to give him a proper shag before you let the rest of us know?”

She rolled her eyes. “We were going to tell everyone in the morning.”

“Plans changed. Mary Margaret wants to see everyone now.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Well, if you’re done having sex with your boyfriend, perhaps we could all find out.” She slapped him on the shoulder and retreated to the room. “We’ll be right there.”

When she entered, Killian was still sitting on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Mary Margaret wants to see everyone now. I’m not sure what’s going on, but Will seemed to think it was important.”

He stood from the bed, gathering his clothes from the floor. “Did he say what the urgency was about?”

She shook her head and continued dressing herself, trying not to let her nerves get to her. “No, just that she wanted to see everyone right away.”

He paused, stepping closer to her, stilling her in her place as he lifted her chin, pulling her eyes to his. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. You and me, love.”

“God, I missed you.” He bent slightly to kiss her lips, letting her continue the task of pulling her clothes on. They walked hand in hand toward the control center, smiling at each other before entering the room.

“Together.” He reminded her before stepping through the door.

~*~

The door opened and Killian stepped through the opening, his grip on Emma’s hand tightening. He didn’t miss the way everyone gawked at them, whispers rumbling through the group.

Mary Margaret stepped toward them, pausing as she stared at their entangled hands. “It’s a pleasure to final meet you, Lady Nolan. David mentioned you in passing more than once.”

“Killian?” She exclaimed.

“Aye, seems the fog has lifted.”

“Thank God.”

“What’s going on?” Emma interrupted.

“David called me an hour ago. He’s on his way with Regina to the Eastern border. He said they got a call about a body, a man named Felix Croft.”

“He worked for Neal.” Emma said nervously. “He attacked me on the pier, he might have killed me if Ruby hadn’t taken him down.”

Mary Margaret frowned, “They are pinning it on Killian.”

“What?”

“David told me that an eyewitness put you at the scene and that they saw you kill the man.”

“Clearly it’s a lie.” Emma squeaked.

“I’m not concerned about Felix.” Mary Margaret shook her head. “David told me that he was going to be out all night as they investigated the scene. So that means that both Regina and David will be indisposed this evening, now is our time to get to the data port. But we don’t have a lot of time. We need to move now.”

“How are we going to get into Regina’s office?” Emma asked.

“You tell me.” The woman looked in his direction. “You had a plan previously, how were you planning to get into her office.”

“There’s a thing about Regina that not a lot of people knew, there had been a few death threats on her life, so she had a secret entrance built into her office, very secure and only a select number of people know the code to access it.”

“How does that help us, Mate?” Will interjected.

“Because I was one of those select people.” He said with a wink.

“Ok, then we have our way in.”

“How? The minute they see Killian on the streets they will alert Regina. Did you forget about the shoot to kill order?”

“That’s why Killian isn’t going.” Mary Margaret announced.

Killian’s heart sank. “If you think I’m letting Emma do this alone, I can assure you that you are wrong.”

“It’s too dangerous, if you go, we’ll be caught immediately. The only chance we have is if you stay behind.”

“She’s right.” Emma said softly beside him. “You’d never make it past the walls.”

He turned toward her, “We said we would do this together.”

“Killian, you put your life on the line to protect me, it’s time for me to return the favor. I can do this.”

“You’ll still be helpful from here.” Mary Margaret assured.

“How exactly would I be of help from the underground? Babysitting?” He said sarcastically.

“I can’t take Henry with me.”

“I was talking about Will.” He added, a small pout on his face that slowly turned into a smile.

“Cheeky bastard.” Will swore, sitting down at the table across from him.

“You’ll be on the communicator, you have the code, we’ll be your eyes, but you need to talk us through how to get to the office. We still need you.”

He nodded at the dark-haired woman standing in front of him. “Aye, then when do you leave?”

~*~

Emma cooed softly with her son in her arms, rocking back and forth in the middle of the room. “Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart. Never to part, baby of mine.” She ran her hand across his chubby little cheek as his bright blue eyes smiled up at her. She felt a tear slip onto her cheek.

“If anything goes wrong, promise me, you’ll take care of him.” She spoke softly, trying to keep her voice calm as she spoke.

“Love, nothing is going to go wrong. You get in, enter the code, upload the information, and get out.”

She looked up at Killian and smiled nervously. “I know, but just in case. Promise me.”

He stepped beside her and wrapped his arm around her, bending to place a soft kiss against her brow. “I will protect him with my life.”

“Thank you.” She smiled down at Henry as she placed him into his bed. Turning she wrapped her arms around Killian’s waist, enveloping herself in his scent as he pulled her against him.

“Stay close to Will.”

She laughed. “You know I could kick his ass, right?”

“For me, please, I need you to come home to me.” He almost begged, his voice cracking as he spoke. She melted into his embrace, feeling the gravity of the situation before her. She was so close to completing her mission, she wanted it to be over, to finally feel safe. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She heard a knock on the door causing them to break contact. “It’s time.” Will announced, sticking his head into the crack in the door.

She lifted her jacket from the chair beside her and pulled her arms through the sleeves. When she turned she saw Killian leaning over to pick Henry up from his bed. She held her breath, watching as the boy leaned his head against the man’s broad chest.

“Killian…” She said softly. “When I get back, we need to talk.”

His eyes met hers, full of worry and anxiety. “I've found when a woman says that I'm rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

“Emma, we need to go.” Will pushed the door further open, stepping inside. “Sorry.”

“Go love, we’ll talk when you return.” He said with a smile and Emma crossed the room to press a kiss to her son’s head, leaning up on her toes to then meet Killian’s lips.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“I know you will.” He said with confidence before clearing his throat. “Stay close to her.” His remark was directed across the room to Will.

“I won’t let anything happen to her.” He said with a nod.

“I meant that so she could protect you.” He chuckled.

“Bugger off.” Will grumbled as he walked out of the door with Killian and Emma close behind.

Emma followed the group through the maze of dark halls until they reached a giant hanger with the sound of water all around them. Sitting at the end of the room was a small boat.

“Alright, we get in and we get right back out. That’s it. We have no room for error.” Mary Margaret stated firmly. “We can’t make any mistakes because we only have a few hours before David comes back to the office with that bucket of rust.”

Emma turned and wrapped her arms one more time around Killian’s neck, running her hand along the back of her son’s head. Leaning against his ear she whispered, “Take care of him, Henry.” She kissed her son and then smiled at Killian. “Be right back.” She stepped onto the boat and sat down in between Ruby and Will.

The boat pulled away from the bunker and she watched as Killian stood at the edge of the water, her son wrapped protectively in his arms, until the fog overtook them, and she was surrounded by darkness.

#void of extinction #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #captain swan

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Say You’ll Stay- Chapter 1

Fury/ Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

Summary: Don "Wardaddy" Collier just wanted his crew to make it through the war. He carried no expectations for himself. But as each day passed, he worried he would be unable to keep his promise. When fate (or more accurately- Boyd Swan) places a woman in his path with a soft touch and softer heart...perhaps he has more of a motivation to see the end of the war after all.

Hey so I’m back with this series! I posted the first chapter awhile ago and then realized I did not have my plot and characters as “polished” as I wanted. So if you read the first chapter already, I would recommend rereading it.

The first chapter is shorter compared to the others so to make up for it, I will also be posting the next chapter! Two in one!

Our beloved Easy Company will come into play in a couple chapters. Patience, my friends. I have a plan...

Warnings: Swearing, some mentions of wounds/blood

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @alwaysindecemberfeels

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Dirt and grime covered his skin and clothing. The sound of the Sherman's tracks rolling over the muddy ground encompassed them. Patches of ice and snow still lined the feeble road. He stared ahead blindly, trusting Gordo to get them to the camp safely. The looks on those around him mirrored his own feelings. Everyone was exhausted. Everyone wanted real food. Everyone was tired of watching allies killed by fucking Tigers.

Everyone was sick of this shit.

They approached the camp. The cesspool that it looked like from far away became even more evident the closer they got. Half-demolished buildings with a dusting of snow were the only standing structures left of what used to be a quaint little town. Soldiers in grubby gear, rifle over their shoulders, ran around. From far away the sounds of artillery fire echoed. Don wondered who was dying now.

"Boyd." He looked over at his gunner. "When we get parked, you go find an aid station. Get that hand looked at."

"Yes, sir." The gunner held his injured hand against his chest, wrapped in a makeshift bandage.

After getting directions from a lieutenant, they found the tank squad on the other side of the town. Seeing the three other tanks gave the staff sergeant some hope.

"Boyd, medic. Gordo, fill 'er up. Grady, check that suspension. I don't like the way it sounds. Norman, find us some ammunition and where the hot chow is." Don barked out orders as everyone jumped off the tank. Replies of "yes, sir" made him nod, silently proud of his crew, before stalking towards where he assumed HQ was.

Soon enough he found the building, soldiers scurrying in and out, making the place look like an overturned ant hill. The glass on the store-front was still intact surprisingly, but the door was busted down leaving a gaping hole to walk through. Sliding past a private who looked barely eighteen coming out, he entered the HQ to see a table set out in the middle with maps laid out, paper weights and bullets strewn about.

"Who you?"

The gravelly voice made him turn to his right, eyeing up the man sitting on a wingback chair. "Staff Sergeant Don Collier, commander of Fury, 66th Armored Regiment, 2nd Armored Division."

The man exhaled, smoke slipping between his thin lips, cigarette hanging precariously. "Ah, Wardaddy, eh? Right, come on." He stood up and waved Don over to the table. "Captain Evans. What's your status?"

Don eyed the man, he seemed far too relaxed for being in a war zone. Then again, his greying hair and beard and those sharp eyes made him briefly wonder if this Captain Evans had been in the Great War. Maybe this was easier compared to trenches? Either way, it was nice to see someone in charge for once that looked like they were actually old enough to shave. Fuck knew too many kids were running around with rifles now, having just gotten out of bootcamp. Don wanted nothing to do with them.

"We secured the town here," he pointed at the map, "left 86th Infantry to hold. Then my guys and two other tanks were sent here."

Captain Evans stared at the maps, mind clearly seeing how best to utilize them. "You and two tanks, eh?"

"Yeah. Ran into a tiger though. Now it's just my guys."

His bushy eyebrows shot up, even those around the table quieted down with the news. "Just you?" At Don's nod, the Captain tapped his fist on the table. "Damn those tigers. Alright, good to have you here, Don. We're waiting on some intel before sending you out. You and your guys get some chow and rest. Come back and see me in the morning."

"Yes, sir." Don nodded and walked out of the building, relieved they were not being sent out right away.

As he walked down the filthy, cobbled street, he could feel the shakes beginning in his hands. Quickly, he stepped onto a side street, hoping no one would notice him. Leaning back against the brick wall of the building, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets before anyone could see them shaking. Memories of the fight from yesterday replayed in his mind without permission. The tiger easily destroyed the rest of his platoon. In a matter of minutes, him and his crew were alone. Ten men. They had lost ten men. Good men...well mostly good. There was that one asshole in Edward's squad no one would miss.

War took the best and worst; death it’s equally possessive lover.

Hands slightly fumbling, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The lighter took a few clicks before catching. With the inhale, the nicotine and smoke settled in his lungs beautifully. He closed his eyes, letting the cigarette help calm his nerves and try to erase the memories of his platoon. They were dead now. It did no good to dwell on it.

After several minutes his hands finally stilled. Running a hand through his hair, he pushed off the building and headed out to find his crew. He glanced around wondering the likelihood of finding a roof and real beds for his guys tonight. They deserved it. Especially after all this shit. His own back cried out for a reprieve from sleeping on the hard ground.

Yeah, he would figure out something. Even if he had to toss some goddamn young Privates out into the stained snow.

*****

"Nurse Cooper! You can handle this!"

She pushed the flyaway strands of auburn hair out of her face as she walked past the injured, following the voice of Doctor Erickson. The cries, screams and whimpers of the injured and dying no longer affected her. Or at least that was what she told herself. At least this field hospital had separate areas based on severity and a roof over the top.

She had worked in far worse conditions before.

She nodded to the tall, blond doctor who barely gave her a passing glance as he shoved past her, away from injuries he deemed lesser than what he should be focusing his attention on.

A man sat on the edge of a cot, cradling his hand in his lap, which was wrapped up like a mummy. He was not screaming or swearing, so she took that as a good sign. His eyes were closed, lips moving silently like he was praying, a thick mustache twitching with every movement. He looked like he could only be a couple years older than her own twenty-three years.

"What's your name, soldier?" She stood in front of him, wiping her hands on the stained apron she wore over her equally stained dress. Once they had both been white; now, the apron and dress were a patchwork of stains from blood, dirt and other questionable fluids she chose not to think of.

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting her blue in surprise. "Boyd Swan, ma'am. Those in my crew call me Bible though. "

"Well, Boyd, mind if I take a look at your hand?" She perched on a stool as he offered up his hand. Quickly, she unwrapped it to see the damage with a gentle but methodical touch. A long laceration bled across the palm and past the wrist, thankfully not deep. Honestly, looking it over, it was kind of a miracle it was not worse.

"Well, you're lucky, Boyd. Any deeper and you might have lost use of your hand. You might have some nerve damage; I do not think immobility is a concern at this point. I think we can get away without stitches if you can promise me you'll keep your hand bandaged and try not to use it."

"It's not luck, He's looking out for me and my crew." He pointed a finger on his other hand skyward.

"Yes, He certainly was. Let me grab some new bandages." She grabbed some cleaning solution and bandages for the man. The sooner she finished with him, the less likely there would be concern for infection. If she guessed, it would appear the injury happened at the earliest maybe yesterday. More than enough time for it to become infected. Though her training had taught her to ask and determine when the injury occurred, lately she found herself hating that question. It always led into a story and hearing even more of the horrors these men faced. Her mind had enough memories of blood and guts to fuel nightmares for a hundred years. If she could refrain from hearing others’ memories, she found herself choosing too.

The other reason she wanted to finish with him soon was to open up the bed he currently sat on, in case a worse injury came in. Luckily there had not been a large-scale fight in a week so they only had trickles of men coming in instead of waves of dying men.

"You a religious woman?"

She looked up from cleaning his hand to meet his earnest eyes. "I guess. I don't pray like I used to."

He hummed. "I can respect that. I suspect you've seen plenty of death."

Not wanting to remember all the faces of young men she had slaved over, only for them to die under her care, she changed the subject. "Why do they call you Bible?"

"I'm always reading the Bible... I reckon that's where it started. I stopped trying to convert those heathens in my tank. I pray for their souls though. Always will." His voice trailed off quietly, but the fondness in it was unmistakable.

"You're a good man, Boyd."

He nervously chuckled, looking away for a moment with the sound of his foot tapping repeatedly on the ground. "No, I'm just doing the Lord's work. That's all."

"Well, I'm done." Smiling at him, she pushed back slightly. It was nice to have a patient not screaming at her or leering. There were too many of those men as of late. "Do you know your orders yet?"

"No, ma'am. We just rolled in an hour ago."

"Alright, if you're still here tomorrow I'd like to take a look at your hand again in the morning."

"I can do that."

"Good. Go rest up now, find some food. You earned it." She stood up, holding the soiled cloths, ready to move on to the next patient or task.

"I will.” He rose along with her, clearly understanding the dismissal. "Oh ma'am, what's your name?"

For a moment she hesitated to share her name. Normally she preferred the men to call her Nurse Cooper. From past experience, if she told them her name, they seemed to think she was interested in them. Yet with this man, she found herself wanting to share her name. He was kind and respectful. There were no gut feelings scaring her away from him. "Anna. I'm Anna Cooper."

"Pleasure to meet you, Anna Cooper. You need anything, you let me know, right?"

She was unsure how he could help her. Depending on his orders she might never see him again, but she nodded to humor him. "Sure. It was lovely to meet you too, Boyd."

With a parting smile from both, she hurried to the back of the building where they kept the large tub for boiling cloths. She grimaced when she noticed how low the water was. That meant she would have to go to the river soon. A shiver shot through her at the anticipated cold awaiting her outside. Thankfully most of the snow had melted already but winter’s chill still clung possessively to the air. Plus, it did not help how easily cold sunk into her bones. Back home her family would tease her about that fact. Here, on the edge of the front lines, it only made her life more difficult.

Before Doctor Erickson found a reason to yell at her, she headed back out to assist in whatever way possible. Her conversing with Boyd was her first positive interaction in a few days besides with the few others nurses stationed at the field hospital. She hoped he was not sent away too soon.

#Fury movie #fury 2014 #fury fanfic #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #Don Collier #Don Wardaddy Collier #don collier x OFC #boyd bible swan #boyd swan #mzwrites

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applsauss · 4 years

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Rain | War-Tober #6

Description: It’s hot in Africa.

Fandom: Fury (2014)

 Pairing: Boyd “Bible” Swan/Reader

Word Count:  500+

Warning(s): None.

You ignore the first few pitter-patters on the hatch above your head, chalking it up the sand blowing across the tank, or maybe even Grady throwing things at your hatch to annoy you again.

Wherever the fuck you are in Africa, it is hot. Unbearably so. The sun beats down on you from the moment it peaks over the edge of the horizon, a sleepy pink, and it continues to beat on you till it sets, a furious red, on the other side of the sky.

The tank is an oven, and so you spend as much time as you can outside of it. Right this moment, however, you’re stripping the bow gun to get to the bottom of its constant jamming, and Gordo is in his seat talking your ear off because he’s convinced it’s better to be inside the tank and out of the sun than breath the fresh, albeit hot, air and find some officer’s tent to inconspicuously soak up the shade under.

But that noise hits the top of your hatch again, this time more rapid fire. It almost sounds like...

“No fucking way,” Gordo breathes, staring up at his closed hatch.

“Rrrr-ain!” you hear Grady shout at the top of his lungs, his voice grates through the air, and a cool breeze sweeps in through the open top hatch. There is the sound of feet beating against the sand, then the tank shivers as someone leaps onto it -- probably Grady -- and begins jumping up and down.

Shouts of ‘Rain! Rain!” move through the camp, faint through the top hatch. You and Gordo look at each other, then scramble out your respective hatches, sliding on your stomachs down the front of the tank and landing on your faces. Gordo hits the sand hard, blows a raspberry to get it out of his mouth, then scrambles up and sure enough -- it’s raining.

The wind picks up and tarps begin flapping. The quiet camp roars to life as every man runs out into the open. “Fuck, yes!” Grady shouts from atop the tank, pumping his arms towards the sky.

“Oh my god,” Gordo groans, and you agree. The raindrops are small, they hit your face and drip down the sides like cold sweat and it is sweet, sweet relief. You spin around to take in the glorious sight, then pause, heart hammering in your chest, when you see Boyd a couple feet from the tank. His eyes are closed, hands at his side, face upturned to the rain as he lets it fall on him, like sweet rapture.

The shouting and cheering fade into the background as you stare at the preacher. His hair brushes across his forehead in the breeze, his ruddy cheeks are covered in dirt and gaunt but still a sight, streaked with rain.

It begins to come down harder -- there’s even a bit of distant thunder, not unlike the sounds of artillery, but wholly natural -- and the rain begins to soak to the roots of your hair and through your shirt. Boyd’s mouth drops open, and you can’t tear your eyes away. He looks like a fucking angel.

“Dio Mio -- Fucking, yes!” Gordo shouts in your ear suddenly, snapping you back to reality. He shakes your shoulders then turns to Grady and whoops loudly. The atmosphere, their joy, drags a wild smile out of you. Your eyes flick once more to Boyd before you turn and hop on Grady’s back as he twirls around, face turned towards the sky and soaking in the glorious rain fall.

Masterlist | War-tober Prompts | My Schedule

#boyd swan #fury movie #boyd swan x reader #fury movie x reader #fury 2014 #boyd swan imagine #bible x reader #bible imagine #wartober2020

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abrunettefangirlnerd · 4 years

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It’s Too Much

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: You are a college student trying to get into nursing school. Being accepted into NYU’s program you just have to make the grade in one more class to start in the fall. This semester has been difficult and only gotten worse since this COVID-19 required your college to close. Living on campus and your family living in Colorado, makes moving back home extremely difficult. Besides you don’t want to leave. That is when your sweet boyfriend offered for you to stay at his apartment.

Oneshot

A/N: It may be a little long, but the ending is freaking adorable

10:15 pm

Putting away the last bit of your clothes in Steve’s closet, you sigh in relief. Today has been so long starting with waking up early to move all your stuff out of your dorm. Your college has moved all classes online with the COVID-19 outbreak. Since there is virtually no reason to be at school, you decided to move out to get a reimbursement for the rest of the semester.

Problem is, your school is in New York and your home is St. Louis, Missouri. There is no way for you to get everything in your car and drive half way through the country. Thankfully Steve, your boyfriend, has been gracious enough to share his apartment with you for the remainder of your semester.

A warm-muscular arm wraps its way around your waist and pulls you toward an even more muscular body. Turning your body to face him, you burry your face in Steve’s chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. Steve places a soft kiss on the top of your head before leaning his against yours. Feeling the light brush of his breath against your hair lures your subconscious to the impending darkness of sleep.

“Do you want to go to bed?” Steve ask. A smile invades your features. You love how attentive he can be.

“No,” you pout. “Going to bed means waking up, and waking up means studying.”

Steve’s grip on your loosens, prompting you to look up at him. A twinkle of mischief resides in his beautiful blue eyes. A part of you wants him to tell you what he is thinking, though it may be more fun for him to show you.

“I have an idea then.” Steve smirks.

His arms encircle your legs before you could ask him what he’s up to. Throwing you over his shoulder he walks you over to the bed, and flips your body onto the soft mattress. Laughter erupts from your chest. You find it so cute when he acts so dominant because he surprisingly loves being submissive a great deal of the time. Though seems like tonight he wants to take the reins, and you are more than happy to let his dominant side take over tonight.

***

Next Morning

Inulin can determine glomerular filtration rate in the renal system because it is only filtered, not reabsorbed or secreted…

Mean arterial pressure can be calculated by taking systole + 2 (diastole) / 3…

Trypsin, chymotrypsin, and elastin are endopeptidase enzyme…

You woke up, your thoughts running a million miles an hour. Looking over at Steve’s alarm clock you see that it reads 5:45 am. Well, I usually wake up at 6, what is 15 minutes really?

Carefully shimmying out of Steve’s arms, you grab a new pair of underwear, and a fresh pair of sweats and t-shirt from Steve’s side of the closet. Heading over to the bathroom down the hall you turn on the water, wait for it to heat up, and step inside.

Lathering your head with citrus smelling shampoo, you make a mental note of all the things you need to do today. A sheet of anxiety wraps around your body like a tight uncomfortable blanket. Taking deep breaths you try to focus on the warm water. Imagining it melt away the anxiety from your body, you begin to feel better. Before you know it, the last bit of body soap has been washed away and it is time to get out and start your day.

Quickly getting dressed in Steve’s soft and warm clothes you head into the kitchen to make breakfast. Popping a bagel into the toaster, you search for some fruit in the refrigerator. Finally coming upon some cut up fruit, you take the container out and pour some on your plate. About that time your bagel is ready to go and all you need is your coffee. Tasting the warm-stimulating hazelnut coffee against your throat, you take a deep breath and dive into your studies

6:15 am

Opening your laptop, you guide your mouse to a folder holding the rest of your physiology lecture videos. Your professor had his lectures recorded a few years back and thankfully saved them. Without these, you have no idea how challenging the last half of this semester would be.

Scrolling through the list, you land upon the next video lecture. Waiting for the video to load, you take a sip of our coffee and plug in your headphones. Steve is an early morning riser but is definitely taking the opportunity to sleep in given the new situation. The last thing you want is to wake him up with your school work. He deserves to sleep in every once in a while.

7: 25 am

Writing down the last bit of notes from the lecture, you look up and see that your breakfast has barely been touched. The bagel has a single bite and only half of the fruit remains. The floors creek behind the bedroom door signaling that Steve has woken up.

As if on cue the door opens revealing a half asleep posture. Hearing him yawn you look up and offer a morning smile. As he heads into the kitchen for his own cup of coffee, you refocus on rewriting notes from the recent lecture. You have this rhythm down after the first couple weeks of the semester. After class you would rewrite the notes, neatly into a notebook and study them the next day.

“Want some breakfast?” Steve asks.

“I made me some.” You tilt your head toward you cold bagel and coffee and get a disapproving look from your boyfriend.

8:00 am

Taking out your laptop again, you log into your school’s blackboard account. You watch as the computer loads your Nutrition book as a yawn of your own settles across your lips. This is your least favorite class of the semester. It has nothing to do with the content. There is just so much of it and your teacher’s lectures are not helpful whatsoever.

“How about a break?” Steve looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, his head against your shoulder. “You just had to wear my clothes, you’re killing me.”

“Not yet, it is only eight in the morning. And I have to keep you entertained somehow.” A pinching feeling hits you in the gut as you think about taking Steve’s advice. You had the same problem while living in the dorm. You never take breaks unless you can’t see straight or it is time for bed, whichever comes first. Of course there were plans you would make with Steve that would take place of a break.

9:30 am

Finally finishing the chapter for Nutrition, you head back into the kitchen. You throw away the rest of your uneaten breakfast and grab another pot of coffee. Taking in the precious smell you can feel your stomach start to growl from missing the other half of breakfast. You decide there isn’t enough time to make anything, and figure the coffee will just be enough.

“Hon,” Steve’s cautious voice looms over you. You can tell he is trying to tread lightly. He means well, but neither of you have been in this situation where you are living together.

“(Y/N), maybe you should eat something else.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine, thank you though.” You place a reassuring kiss on Steve’s cheek and then head into the living room again.

The pinching gut feeling returns as you think about Steve’s expression. Maybe I should take a break? You shake your head and conclude you will take one later.

10:05 am

The simulation for your physiology lab has finally loaded. Your professor for lab has ten lab simulations due this week by Thursday. With all the packing, moving, and unpacking this weekend you haven’t had the chance to get ahead of this. By Wednesday you have to take an online prelab quiz and be prepared to take a post lab quiz at the end of class on Thursday. Since it is all online now you have to definitely zero out time to get it all done on your own.

Steve comes in with a plate in hand. On it is a piece of toast with a Nutella spread and banana slices nicely resting on top. Involuntarily, your mouth begins to water at the sight of food. Some find it a weird combination but you think it is the best thing you’ve found to eat in a while.

“Here, I made you this.”

He places the plate of your physiology lab notebook. A tiny bit of annoyance restless onto your surface but you push it away. You know that Steve just wants to make sure you’re eating enough. At the beginning of last semester Steve noticed how little you started to eat with your added stress. This semester isn’t much better, but this way he at least gets to keep a better eye on you. You’ve never had a problem with your appetite. There is just so much on your mind, and so much stress that you barely remember to eat. When you do, it doesn’t take long for your nerves to get the better of you and suppress the want to keep eating.

“Thank you.” You say, and you snake your arm around his neck and bring him in for a kiss.

12:10 pm

“Okay, lunch time!” You claim, excited for a break. “How does a pizza sound?”

Steve is in the corner of the room working out with his weights. Taking a moment from his current set, Steve nods in agreement. You find a small but noticeable grin hiding against his lips. He is clearly happy to see that you have finally taken a break… well a break to make food.

The only pizza you guys have is a veggie and chicken frozen pizza. Taking it out of the wrapping, you preheat the oven and wait for it to beep. This moment allows you to turn on the tv and find “Friends” on the screen, your favorite show of all time. Steve crawls up against you even with sweat dripping off onto you.

“Babe! You’re dripping all over the pizza!” You laugh.

“Extra flavor?” Steve’s eyes glimmer as he represses his own laughter.

After lunch you get back on your computer to log onto your Old Testament/Hebrew Bible class. After the class you organize your notes, work on your paper for the class, and review your notes from both physiology lecture and lab. It isn’t until 6 o’clock that evening before you are done. A friend from a class called needing you to explain something from the lecture today which took a little while.

This routine repeated over and over during this week. Steve recognizes that there was no way this is going to change unless he said something. Though the last thing he wants to do is upset you. He knows how stressed you are about getting into the nursing program. You have a spot actually. You just need to get a B in physiology to keep it, and the first exam did not go as planned.

But Steve does know this isn’t healthy. You are ranging between 7-9 hours of work, with only an hour break at lunch to cook and eat. He would love to offer to cook for you, but he is scared that you’ll take that extra time to keep studying.

“Baby doll?” Steve peers around the corner leading into the living room. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, one second. I just need to finish writing this thought.” You say as you scribble a few more notes in your notebook.

Steve comes over and sits on the coffee table in front of you. He helps you move your school stuff away. You knit your eyebrows together in confusion. Normally you aren’t done for the day, it is only 4:30 pm.

Steve’s knees lightly press against yours and he takes your hands in his. Rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs you allow the soothing touch to calm your nerves. Steve leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead that you graciously accept.

“What’s up? You’re scaring me.” You say. A sinking feeling rests in your stomach that are sending your nerves in to a frenzy.

“I love you (Y/N). I love having you hear, but…” you can feel your heart drop. “I am worried about you. All you do is study. I’m sure this is what you’ve been doing this last year but I didn’t realize how much you do until now. You’re too tired to want to work out like you normally do, or able to stay awake while we are watching a movie. On top of that, you barely eat. It’s not healthy.”

“I know, you’re right.” A tear falls down your face. “Living in the dorm I never felt like I could get away from school. I felt like I had to constantly study. When I stayed the night here it would help me separate it easier. Though since I can’t leave, and some of my professors have added extra assignments I’m feeling it becoming a bigger problem than before.”

“Well, then.” Steve’s soft lips graze across yours, taking your breath away. “Let me help with that.”

Pulling you on his lap, Steve’s fingers tangle in your hair. Steve presses his forehead against yours and both sets of eyes close. Stroking his hands through your hair, you focus on Steve’s breathing. You can’t believe you are lucky enough to find a man that actually cares about your well-being. He is right and you know it. From now on you’re going to do your best to not let school be your whole life.

“You know what I want to do?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“If you say study,” Steve grumbles, “I’m throwing your notebooks out the window.”

Shaking your head no, you start by placing a kiss on Steve’s cheek. Trailing down his face onto his neck, Steve grips your hips which brings your body closer. Steve does not understand how great of an advantage he just gave you, and you try to suppress the smile peaking up from your lips. Wrapping your arm around his torso, you wait a moment before reaching behind him. Finding what you are looking for, you bring your lips back to his. Eagerly accepting your kiss he almost doesn’t feel the nerf bullet hit his side.

“Oh no,” Steve’s voice is low and you can feel your heart beat faster. “You’ve done it now.”

Stumbling to get away, you leap over the back of the couch for cover. Peering over the edge you aim your nerf gun where you last see him, but Steve is already gone. You listen for any sudden movements and try to recall where the other gun was last seen. Remembering it was in the bedroom, you stealthily slide across the floor hoping for another sneak attack.

Reaching the door, you find it cracked open. You slip your body slowly into the dark room and reach for the light switch. If Steve is hiding, you want to find him before he finds you. The lights turn on and brighten up the room, making your eyes squint.

“Surprise!” Steve jumps from the side of the bed as you feel two nerf bullets attack your abdomen. “I win!”

“But I got you first!” You playfully whine.

“Doesn’t count.” Steve insists. “I win, and I want first place prize.”

Steve takes even strides toward you. Stopping in front of you, his body towers over your own. His arms pin you against the wall as his wild eyes peer into yours. A burning desire of anticipation ripples through your chest. It is almost too much to bare until Steve finally crashes his lips to yours. Running your hands over his body, and his over yours, you lead him toward the bed and show him how lucky you are to have him.

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kaysreadingarchive · 4 years

Text

Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing: Part 3

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Reader, slightly John Seed x Reader x Joseph Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Cursing, mention of death, threats, theft

Word Count: 2,741

A/N: Thank you all for your love and support while I write trash and sip tea. It means the world to me! And like always, give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand. I also really want to know what your theories are for the coming story. I always love reading your guys' analyses.

Masterlist Omegaverse Rules

-------

The picture just seemed to vanish. It wasn’t ripped up anywhere or jammed to the bottom of the bag. Your eyes were getting strained from how many countless times you look for it. You dug through your torn clothes and nothing came up. To other people, it might have looked like you’ve gone mad. Ripping up clothes with an uneasy gleam in your eyes. Maybe they even turned red like John’s. That color still sent shivers down your spine when you thought of it. A dark red, almost an old blood or maroon color.

If it wasn’t here, it had to be inside the church. You could just go in, it would be quick. It would be way easier than looking at someone or making eye contact. Then they would have to start a conversation and you weren’t in the mood to talk about how bad America’s politics were or the latest crop failure.

You looked from the entrance of the white church back to the bed of your truck. As you thought your plan over, you started to chew the inside of your cheek out of habit. The plan was pretty solid, the problem was the people outside rather than inside. Joseph, John, and Jacob stood at the door as people hugged and talked. They blocked most of the entrance as if it was a sign they didn’t want you in. Were they hiding something? This theory alone was stupid. Of course, they were hiding something, they were shady as hell. Jacob just happened to be the least shady of them.

If someone was talking directly to him, he would just nod, not making a real attempt to answer back. You didn’t really notice, but his blue eyes would wander to your truck where you practically ripped your clothes up more than they were, looking for your photo. Sure, he might have some secrets, but they were something you didn’t want to hear. John’s seemed pretty obvious. His secret was he fucked a lot of women and it was pretty obvious. He had money and a dick, what more could a woman like you want?

If you didn’t go in and it was in there, you would hate yourself. It was the only real thing from your parent’s house that you wanted before it was taken by the bank when they died. But if you did go in there and it wasn’t there, it would be all for nothing. It seemed like a lose-lose situation. It’s only been a couple of minutes and you already feel like giving up.

Nevertheless, it didn’t seem like you had much of a choice. So, you just bit the bullet and hopped out of the truck and made your way along the concrete sidewalk.

The blood was pumping and ringing in your ears along with the overwhelming beat of your heart. You felt the need to make yourself as small as possible. Maybe if you did, people wouldn’t stare or make comments. How dare she just walk into the Church and disrespect the Family. She doesn’t even thank them or hug them, nor does she have the audacity to talk to them.

As you walked by, these people, these followers gave you the dirtiest looks. It was only when their flock noticed you, the Seeds started to acknowledge you as well. Lana, or Faith as she liked to be called, was the first to notice.

Lana was the least problematic of the four. You’ve never personally spoken to her. Her dark brown hair had daisies woven into it and she wore a white sundress covered in more flowers. What really unnerved you was her smile. Her pearly white teeth were stretched into an uneven smile that stood out against her tan skin. Her smile didn’t reach her brown eyes, which were dull in comparison. She was really trying to show off how innocent she was with the whites. She wanted you to see her this way, as Faith rather than Lana. They seemed like two entirely different people.

You walked slightly farther away from her as she hugged another follower. It was Danny. He not only came for the service, but he stayed behind. Doesn’t have dedication towards his job, but when it comes to weird religions, he’s all for it. This was real proof of how persuasive and charismatic these people turned out to be. To turn someone’s character completely upside down was startling, to say the least.

“Can I help you with anything, my child?” The voice came from behind. It was smooth and gentle. You turned to see Joseph staring with a small smile on his face. His yellow aviators were still present and he looked absolutely ridiculous with no shirt on. Sweat dripped from your brow as you tried to avoid his attentive gaze, but it followed when your eyes landed on a more interesting patch of dirt in front of you.

“I lost something, inside the church. It was a photo.” Fuck, you even sounded suspicious. Your mouth tripped over the words as you tried to shove them out. You sounded and looked like a mess. You could even feel John’s and Jacob’s gazes once more. One was more of glare or stare down than the other. No wonder some people were so terrified, they were intimidating up close. You weren’t even looking directly at them and your anxiety was pushing your heart to the bottom of your stomach.

“We could help you find it.” He sounded sincere like he wanted to help. You knew this all too well. Joseph Seed put up an act, it was very clear to you. Something was boiling underneath. Something dangerous lied below the surface. Maybe it was even worse than John or Jacob.

“NO! I mean… I can do it by myself. Thanks for the offer.” There it goes, your entire life down the drain. You might as well have angered the wrong people. Killed right in front of your own coworker no doubt.

“Please, I insist.” He was pushing. He made it clear in the undertone of his voice that he didn’t want you talking back. You looked back up once more and saw the smile from before was gone. Only replaced by a disappointing frown. In some way, you felt disappointed in yourself. It was odd because you did nothing wrong. What the hell was wrong with you?

Joseph put a hand onto the small of your back and guided you into the church. He started in the right aisles and you started on the left.

You scrounged through tons of daisy petals and hymn notes and nothing showed up. Not even the remains of a photo. But there was something interesting. White books were tucked away behind the back of pews. They had gold trim on it and in the middle was the same weird cross in gold. It was rather heavy and the first page had the title, ‘The Book of Joseph.’ Oh, fuck, this guy had his own fucking bible. Just great, now you knew this place was weird. This just wasn’t any church, it was a different damn religion.

The covers of the book gleaned in the fluorescent lighting as you peered over the rows of pews to Joseph. He was on his knees, back facing you, looking under the seats for the photo. It was somewhat touching that he cared, but that wasn’t the point. You looked down at the book once more.

You could take it. No one would know and bring it back to the Department. Joey would get a kick out of this. There was the possibility of Danny finding out and telling one of the fucking Seeds then you would be in huge trouble. You could already see Jacob waiting outside your house to attack you for stealing from his brother. The mere thought caused you to bite your lip until you could taste the iron flavored blood.

This was a great opportunity to learn more about these guys. Maybe Hope County will remove the wool over their eyes. You looked back at Joseph once more and slipped the book into a pocket that lined your jacket. If you put your hands in your front pockets, no one would suspect a thing.

“Did you find anything?” You called over to Joseph. He got up and dusted off his jeans with an apologetic look on his face.

“I am sorry. I didn’t find anything. If it helps, I will come by if I find it, Deputy.” He knew you were a deputy. Hell, why wouldn’t he? There were only four of you in the entire county, five if you counted Nancy. You wish you could just whip out your badge and arrest him on the spot. It would be so much easier.

“Thank you for your help, Joseph.” You didn’t even bother looking him in the eyes. He would instantly see how guilty you looked as you felt the book’s cover press against the palm of your hand. You could feel the guilt and sorrowfulness start to bubble in your chest. The thought of stealing from a somewhat innocent man was frightening. All this just for some proof of something. Whatever it was had to be bad. A murder confession maybe, you prayed to whatever God or higher being was out there that there was something to gawk at.

You ducked out behind him and went out of the church. The sky was already dark and it made you wonder how long you were looking for that damn photo. You practically sprinted across the yard, your hands placed firmly in the jacket’s pockets. Both John and Jacob watched you leave, but Jacob was a whole other story. His blue eyes were narrowed as he caught a glimpse of the rectangle-shaped object hidden in your jacket. Fuck, he knew! You looked back again to see him just standing there with his large arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips. Both of your eyes met for a split second as he grabbed something from inside his pocket.

It felt like everything was in slow motion when Jacob held YOUR picture between his fingers. His smirk only got bigger when you bit your lip, trying to resist the urge to attack him. It would look bad, it would look so bad. There was no telling what he was going to do with it.

Jacob slowly reached into another pocket and brought out a small lighter. That son of bitch! He was gonna fucking burn it! He looked up again and held the picture right above the flame, swinging it back and forth like he was teasing you. What hurt the most was the fact that he was dragging it out. You knew he had no intention to burn it. “Please don’t…” Your voice was barely above a whisper but he heard.

Jacob turned off the lighter, and walked closer to you. You could barely hear his heavy footsteps in the dirt over the sound of your blood pumping rapidly in your ears. “What was that, girl?” His deep voice was laced with that teasing tone, much like John’s. He knew it was making you angry and it only seemed to excite him more. From what you could tell, Jacob enjoyed it when others were at his mercy. It was really inflating his already massive ego, but John still held the record. He liked being the top dog, the Alpha. He liked the control. It was like a game of cat and mouse, it was a hunt.

“Nothing, I’ll just be going.” He seemed pleased with this answer because he stuffed the picture back in his pocket without even saying anything. His eyes flashed that same red that never left your memory. This definitely wasn’t your imagination. Jacob slowly backed away and went back to John, making sure to reach into his pocket as he went.

It was nice to know who had it now. Figures it was fucking Jacob. Haven’t even talked to the guy until now, but it was very evident he was a huge asshole. It wasn't like John where he was very active or hyper. He seemed lazy, very out of tune with his emotions. Jacob Seed was definitely someone you didn’t want to fuck with. Especially when he now had this much power over you. You were basically at his beck and call now. Like a little fucking pet. You just hoped he won’t make you suck his dick for the picture.

------

The ride back to the house was tense, even though you were the only one in the truck. You refused to even turn on the radio now that the Project seemed to be playing their own mixtapes. The only things that ate up the dead silence was your breathing and the chirping of crickets outside.

The drive wasn’t long just across the river and outside Fall’s End. Pop’s house was just down the road from the Cougar’s home field. It was a small place, but it was cozy for only two people. Your old swing set was in the back and what was odd about your yard was the lack of a bunker.

A lot of doomsday nut jobs lived in Hope County and you weren’t one if you didn’t have a bunker. Earl summed it up to just not believing in that bullshit. If God wanted to pull the plug he would have done it a long time ago before things got really bad.

You parked the truck and hopped out, locking the door. You grabbed your duffle bag and headed inside. “Gramps! I’m home!” You called out down the hall to the living room. The lights were off, but the T.V. was on. It was playing a commercial for Sunrise farms. A plump pumpkin mascot jumped around a field, just begging you to come by and pick one.

And right in front of the T.V., in a reclining chair was Gramps. His hat and glasses were set on the table next to him and his uniform was still on. At Least he got his shoes off this time. He practically lived in that uniform. You turned off the T.V. and put a knitted blanket over him. His snores shook the house at this point. You made your way down the hallway, past the many pictures on the wall to your room.

It was still very girly. With peeling boy band posters and an awful canopy bed. You never got around to upgrading it. It was one of the many things on your list that will never get done. Just imagine bringing a boy home to this. No boys in the country really interested you. Pratt was an obvious one. He had this weird thing for Joey, but Joey was very much into girls. It was well known since high school, despite being a few years ahead of you.

You grabbed the book from inside your jacket and tossed it onto the bed. It flopped onto the sheets with a smack directly onto the spine. It opened to a random page that just seemed to call to you. You quickly got changed and dived under the covers. You flipped to the first page but stopped. Should you bring this back after you're done? This was only for research and a good laugh, but it felt wrong to make fun of someone else’s religions. Even if it seemed odd to you.

You just had to know what these people were up to and this book seemed to have the answers. The questions just weren’t asked yet. No one in Hope County wanted to ask. They just wanted to follow blindly. They thought this Project brought them hope and faith, nothing like what their government could give them. When you thought about it, was there really a separation between church and state? The lines between these two were very blurry for most people. The Project was building onto something this county had a lot of. Distrust. They were taking advantage of people’s weaknesses.

But you weren’t swayed easily. Any religion involving John or Jacob Seed was a religion you didn’t want to be a part of, especially with a persuasive and charismatic leader like Joseph.

Maybe this book will help you after all. You had no other option other than reading or joining some crazy religious group.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #reader #reader insert #werewolves #omegaverse #jacob seed #joseph seed #john seed #jacob seed x reader #joseph seed x reader #john seed x reader #cursing #mention of death #threats #theft

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imuybemovoko · 4 years

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A profoundly bad childhood experience

I ...don’t have a whole lot of specific memories of my childhood. The things I do remember, I tend to lack good detail on. I think a good deal of this is because a lot of weird shit happened that I just don’t think about until something makes me think about it. A few months ago I was forced to think about some of the weird shit. I might be a bit lacking in specifics here, it’s been around 15 years since this happened and I don’t always have detailed memories from this period in my life, but I’ll do my best.

I’m writing a large document about my years of experience with Christianity and my eventual exit from it. I decided to write this in roughly chronological order, as best I could remember it, and trying to write about my early childhood in a small-town United Methodist church in upstate New York brought this experience crashing back in ...most of its weird sad glory.

For those unfamiliar with this kind of environment, many churches run week long summer programs to indoctrinate children, calling them “vacation bible school”. In my experience, it was a week long, typically in June at this church, and was a bit different under like seven or eight years old than it was between then and sixth grade or so. The younger kids just like heard cutesy messages about Jesus and played little games all day, and the older kids moved around between like four or five little stations consisting of crafts, Jesus messages, music that even my kid brain found lame and awkward, a 20 minute TV show of a traumatizing chipmunk puppet called Chadder, and some teaching that took place in the context of an adult LARPing and setting up scenery.

That’s Chadder. He’s fucking terrifying and his voice is annoying. He talks about Jesus entirely too much.

The first year I was old enough for this more mature version of VBS, on like the second day of the five, the theme was Jonah and the whale. For the blessed uninitiated, the story is basically that of a prophet called to yell at the city of Nineveh for their sins who runs away in a ship, then God throws a nice little hurricane at him, the crew of the ship yeets him overboard, and he spends three days inside of a whale, at which point he repents and goes to yell at Nineveh. (And then gets pissed off at God for sparing the city from destruction after they repent, but somehow that part isn’t taught to children and the rest of it is.)

The adult who did the LARPing for this program every year was this lady about my mom’s age who I’ll call “Sharon” for anonymity. (I don’t remember her first name but it’s probably not that.) She always went all out with the costumes and got really into character, and the settings were usually pretty damn well thought out too. On this day, she’d set up an entire scene that fit with the theme of Jonah’s experience. Her scenes were always set up in this atrium area behind the sanctuary that could be closed off with one of those collapsible walls.

Like this, but in a church. That fucking building was full of those, and even seeing them in person mildly triggers me half the time. :^) There was this atrium area behind it that people tended to gather in to talk before service got started, but for VBS Sharon repurposed it for scenes. The lights were generally pretty low, though I don’t think that was their only setting in there. The room also had this little hallway that was next to one of the narrow ends of it, with a door both going into the sanctuary and into this atrium, and attaching to the front door of the church with a crumbling stone staircase to the uneven sidewalk.

They tend to break the kids up into small groups, the number and size of these groups depending on the number of kids in the program. I think there were eight or ten of us in each group this year, and we rotated through the stations they set up. They recruit the kids older than about 13 to escort us around all day. I think we were like the second group to go to the LARPing station this day, but I’m not completely sure. We came to the door from the corridor to the sanctuary and the teen leader knocked. Sharon came out dressed in this biblical-style outfit, trying her absolute best to look like the prophet might’ve. She may or may not have worn a stick-on beard or maybe one that hangs on and attaches behind the ears. She was easily dedicated enough to pull something like that. She certainly had one of these outfits going on:

And definitely one of the male-styled ones with headwear. She led us into the corridor, acting all frantic. The corridor was very dimly lit this day, and as nervous as she was, I started to lowkey freak out too. I had no idea what was coming.

Sharon ushered us into the atrium thing, which was now very different from its ordinary state. My memory of the exact conditions in here isn’t perfect, so I’ll explain this as best as I remember it. The entire fucking room was dimly lit and lined with black plastic, I think she ripped up some trash bags and stuck them to the walls and ceiling in there. She was running some kind of high-octane humidifier and fan in there I think, because the whole place was dark and wet and humid. I’m a bit less certain on these two details, but she might’ve brought some pungent fish into the place to make it smell weird and played loud ass whale song on one of those little boombox/CD player/radio things that were common around that time. I think the other kids could handle it a bit better than I did, but this was a terrifying environment. Then she started talking about how the reason we’re in here is because she ran away from God (as Jonah; remember, she got real in character) and maybe this is her chance to repent and it’s so bad that she didn’t follow God’s command the first time. At some point in this display I freaked the fuck out and had to leave this place. They took me back to some room where the younger kids were doing something so I could cool off. My parents, and I think some of the other adults, expressed some disappointment about this. I don’t remember specific words; I do remember being shamed for being afraid of this ...intentionally scary display. And then when I was calm and they were done with all that bullshit, they brought me back in for Chadder of all things.

I had a recurring nightmare for a while in elementary school. Every time I had this, it came in threes. I’d enter a dim, sweaty room where some faint, horribly distorted voices were crying out and have to climb a slope. I’d pass the first, shallow one fairly easily, but I’d go straight from that into a darker, sweatier, louder room with a steeper incline. I’d pass this trial too somehow, by this point being stressed and scared every time, and come straight into something so, so fucking much worse. This room was extremely dark, the incline was goddamn near to vertical, it was wet in there to the point where everything was dripping (or, in some cases, at least I was; I kind of think the scenery other than the light levels, sounds, and inclines varied quite a bit from instance to instance), and the voices. The fucking voices. They sounded like people yelling, except... through insane levels of distortion, to the point where everything was echo except the vowel sound, usually like the one in “sleep” or maybe a bit retracted. After the fact I’m inclined to project everything from coherent phrases to my first name onto the sounds, but I don’t remember them having any actual definition after all the distortion. These calls would kind of burrow into my consciousness as I tried (and, somehow, often partially succeeded) to climb this fucking smooth, deep slope, and when it all got too overwhelming I’d wake up sweating and terrified. (And usually I’d have to pee.) After I remembered this incident from VBS, I made a connection with this recurring nightmare and I kind of strongly suspect that it was a major contributing factor to these. This may or may not be accurate, but it bears some chilling similarities to Sharon’s whale stomach display: wet, loud, scary, dark.

I often have a fairly hard time writing about this. This shit had me shaking and unable to sleep for hours when I remembered it after apparently somehow repressing it for over a decade. Writing about it was easier this time, but I still kind of shake and struggle talking about it. It’s a whole time. I think I might need some therapy because of this and other fucky little incidents that happened during my childhood and when I was older and, for around five years, fully embraced Christianity and yeeted myself into some of its darker branches. But the more bullshit I remember from my childhood, the more I learn about the foundation, even from what I remember as a somewhat more progressive than average environment, that led me down my dark path. So that’s food for thought I guess.

Have a deepfried Chadder and a good day.

Chadder takes his mask off (2020, colorized)

#ex christian #churchexperience #i probably need therapy #religious trauma

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polcrity · 4 years

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self para || eli vogel || FAMILY MEETING

There’s a twitch in his fingers, coming like waves crashing onto the shore. Eli’s never been to the ocean-- maybe a big lake or two with some sand, but there is still some part of him that can’t begin to fathom the never ending blue that one will always find at the edges of the map. It’s unnerving, isn’t it? The knowledge that there lies this… void. So deep and dangerous that humankind may never manage to explore it all? Tonight, he feels a bit of that void in himself, weighing his heart down with the knowledge that any semblance of redemption has been abandoned. All for what, some money? Power? He certainly hasn’t garnered any respect from the Vasile twerps, that’s for sure. But perhaps it's something less reasonable than that. Every man in Chicago wants to be as powerful as the chief of police. Every man in America wants to be rich. But how many want to see a man hung on a cross for pure enjoyment?

There is no do no harm equivalent for the police force-- at least not one respected by any man in blue. It’s a dog eat dog world out there and Eli has always preferred being the leader of the pack to the man getting the scraps. So what if a few Fausts and O’Sheas get thrown to the pack in the process? In truth, Eli gets a bit of a thrill in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees one of their names pop up in the recently deceased column. It’s a delight. Scum ridding itself of other scum and at no expense to the city? What more could a chief ask for. So, if a little sacreligious imagery is the way to get him one step closer to eviscerating that scum once and for all, he’ll be smiling while the hammer thuds against the nails.

He stands dead center in the basement, surrounded by sardine-like Vasiles, new recruits, and whatever category Mikhail can squeeze into, Eli realizes that this moment would only be sweeter with one addition: Dimitri. With what little time the man spends at home, it’s expected, but the pang of disappointment still burrows itself deep, pressing against the outer layer of the void that’s still slowly welling like a bubble in the chief’s abdomen. This is true excitement, threatened. Eli shoves the feeling down with a clearing of his throat. Hands rest firmly on his hips, veins prominent on his forearms, knuckles white with a tense grip.

“Your father put me in charge for a reason, but---” his voice is firm, towing that line of aggression with the utmost care, “---I understand. I’m an outsider. I haven’t done anything to earn your respect.” Besides, of course, shield the family from the truth of the law for the last four years. Risked his life, devoted his time, done everything he could possibly do to benefit them. That’s all. Nothing special. Vogel isn’t close enough to Vasile, he supposes. When he speaks again, his tone has lifted, lightened, like a man at a podium detailing his journey to Christ. “I realized last night that I never had a proper initiation ceremony and I thought what better place to go through with it than right here?.”

It’s with these words that he reaches out a hand to the night’s entertainment: a woman, maybe twenty-five, wrists cuffed to a wide, metal support beam. Her knees are pulled up as far as they can be, though her torso is forced to adhere uncomfortably to the cold metal. The concrete floor does nothing to help the shiver running up and down her spine. If Eli looks closely, he might be able to see a little puff of her breath every time her trembling body allows her one. And across from her, a large crucifix lying on the floor-- but there’s something odd about it.

“This is Trinity Green. I don’t think it can get much more Irish than this one.” It’s a strange attempt at a joke, “She’s been with the O’Sheas for awhile now. If my files are accurate--they are--about six years. She’s even killed a cop or two in her time.”

The quiet whine that emits from her is entirely ignored.

“When I found Trinity, I asked her something. I asked her if she’d ever heard of old Saint Peter.” If he had a bible, this would be the moment in which he lovingly turned the pages to a fitting verse and recited it, “I was hoping, as a Catholic, that she would be able to tell me the story of how he died, but--” shoulders shrug as he watches her, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind if he would be this bold were her name Juliet and her eyes that beautiful hazel, “I guess over in the O’Shea camp, they don’t teach the good word anymore. I guess I’ll have to step in as Priest until they find a replacement for that old church of theirs.”

He’s lucky the basement boasts high ceilings just like the floors above, and even more so that the surrounding property is so large that no neighbor could possibly hear the commotion. She’s begun that desperate, low sort of whine that animals get when they know they’re dying. It’s a sound of acceptance, of some innate knowledge that fate is catching up to them. Like a cat on its ninth life, Trinity knows there is no saving grace in the godforsaken Vasile home. The thing about this crucifix, Trinity can see out of the corner of her eye, is that it’s inverted.

“Lev, if you’ll do the honors of holding her down.” As he speaks, Eli kneels down to unlock the handcuffs, allowing the girl mobility for only a moment as deftly tosses her body over, pulling her wrists up behind her back. The boy-- one of the few that Eli feels he can sink any semblance of trust into, at this point-- is snappy about it, holding the girl down as she thrashes weakly. It’s amazing what a few valium will do to control an animal not typically so easily subdued. Call it dirty, but Eli calls it smart. “Lay her down.”

It’s when he reaches into his pocket, feeling the long nails, seeing the girl laid down against the wooden beams, that it all becomes real for the chief. Once again, he imagines Juliet’s eyes, the way she’ll look when she inevitably finds this out. When she wanders into his office with such genuine sadness in her eyes, informing him that yet another crucifixion has been discovered. He wonders how long she’ll believe his empty words. She’s a smart one, after all, maybe even smarter than him when it comes down to it. Or maybe mercy will fall, and she’ll be murdered before every grain of justice left in the city slides between her fingers, like sand at the beach. That oceanic massive void has begun to climb its way into the beginnings of his throat, clamping hard against his windpipe. There is a light glaze of red over the whites of his eyes, just enough for Lev to see it when Eli leans down. The hammer, held firmly in his fingers, is now slick with sweat.

“You see,” he holds her left hand down with his knee, though there is a new determination in her eyes and a limpness to her limbs. He’s seen it before. Soldiers don’t like to die crying. The nail hovers over her palm until Eli manages to center it, hammer resting atop it as he prepares his swing. “Old Saint Peter was sentenced to death, just like Trinity here.”

The hammer goes up.

And when it falls, Trinity betrays herself. Her body convulses, chest pushing up off of the beam in one jolt. That low growl emits from the depths of her chest again.

“Peter said, I don’t feel worthy of dying like Jesus died.” Another fall, another metallic clang in the air as the nail is dug deeper into the wood. The rhythm soon follows, controlled like the seconds of a clock, ticking down until that overwhelmingly loud gong that strikes midnight. “Peter said, God’s done all of this amazing stuff, and what have I done?” The right hand follows suit, a new trickle of blood dripping in tandem with each strike. It takes ten in all to dig that deep into the beam, and an extra tap from Eli for good measure follows in a gesture so airy that it almost seems joking. It’s only when he kneels down beside her long, pale legs that she begins to thrash once more. His hands, now adorned with a tremble of their own, grip her ankles tightly, crossing one over the other so that her feet stack. With another gesture, Lev quickly takes his place holding her down, “So, Peter said…”

And he swears, in this moment, that if Juliet were in this girl’s place… he would do the exact same thing to her.

“...Crucify me upside down.” The nail sinks through flesh with shocking ease, pinning her feet together. The whine has turned into a moan, which is quickly transitioning into a lazy scream. He’s heard the scream before.

Soldiers don’t like to die crying. But they always do.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

It only takes another minute of air thickened by the agonized wailing of the girl before Eli drops the hammer to the floor. It was in his childhood church that he saw his first stained glass window. It was a daunting thing, of poor Jesus dragging the cross that would soon be his fate on his back. It’s when he feels the splintering wood digging into the flesh of his own back that he begins to realize that, perhaps, this is a work of art in his own right. A man sacrificing his own morality for the greater good, bearing a cross on his back adorned with a victim of a city riddled with sin.

And when the base of the cross finally balances with the help of Lev’s final push, Eli can only now feel the tears well at the corners of his eyes. With the first drip! of the blood from her purple-pale feet, the void is gone, replaced only with a feeling of overwhelming pride.

#e.self para #crucifixion tw #gore tw #violence tw

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soft-boy-stefan · 5 years

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Sins of a Priest [a poly readerXShawn MendesXCamila Cabello fic]

Warning: priest, demons, poly relationship, sex dreams, hints to sex, swearing

a/n: if you don’t like anything above in the warnings or Camila, don’t read it. I don’t want any hate. Also, I do not know if Camila and Shawn are together, this is purely bisexual fanfic because I’m a slut for the both of them. Have fun reading! Feedback appreciated!

Priests shouldn’t drink. Most of them don’t, however, a shot glass nurses in Shawn’s hand like the Bible had done earlier today. After a long service, Shawn takes refuge in the empty church, particularly in his office.

He isn’t sure when exactly he fell asleep on the plush couch, but it’s 11:47 and he’s jolting awake after having a super sexy dream involving two people and him. Sweat drips down his forehead and onto the curve of his nose, disappearing with a quick wipe of the back of his hand.

With a loud, heavy, sigh, Shawn places the empty shot glass of whiskey on the side table. He unbuttons the top buttons of his black shirt, loosening his collar as he shuts his eyes. Such impure thoughts are not acceptable. Especially for a priest such as himself. Not only was the dream sexual, there were more than two people, which is definitely unholy.

Raking one of his large hands through his tostled hair, some of his thick brows curls fall in front of his golden brown eyes. He supposes he should be getting home, since it’s nearly midnight and he prefers his warm bed to his office couch any day. And a shower would be nice in the morning.

Shawn stands up and stretches his back, making his muscles move underneath his smooth black dress shirt. With another sigh, the young priest grabs his keys and bag, flicking the light switch off. He steps out of his office, turning around and shutting the door.

As his hand moves up to stick the key in the hole of the door, he stops, his head snapping up at the sound of giggles. Nobody is in the church but him, he is sure of that. At least…. there isn’t supposed to be anyone else here.

Craning his head to the side, some of his dark curls dangle in front of his honey colored eyes that search the hallway. “He’s a priest!” He hears a high pitched voice giggle, which no doubt belongs to a female. There’s another giggle, different from the first one.

Shawn sighs quietly to himself, rubbing his temple. He doesn’t want to deal with people at the moment. Putting on his fake smile, he starts walking down the hallway, his black dress shoes padding on the carpet as he rounds the corner. “Excuse-... me?” He pauses when he comes face to face with nothing. He swears he heard people.

“Ooo, he’s so sexy! I like his ass!” He hears another voice say, followed by more giggles.

This is making him downright frustrated. Shawn whips back around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, frowning at the empty, dim lit hall. He only had a glass of whiskey, he isn’t that drunk. Maybe he’s hallucinating.

Suddenly, there’s two sets of hands on his body; one pair on his shoulders and one pair on his hips. Shawn jerks away from the hands, spinning around once more like a mad man. Again, there’s no one there.

Inhaling a shaky breath, Shawn pushes his thick curls back slowly, letting them drop back in their place. A manicured nail tapping him on the shoulder makes him jump and look over, shouting. “Hi, handsome!” A beautiful tan girl smiles at him, her voice the same as the first one he heard. “You’re right, Y/N, he is sexy! In a cute, innocent way.”

Shawn gulps loudly, eyes wide as he recognizes the woman as one from his recent dream. She’s wearing very little, which is driving Shawn crazier. Her tan breasts are held up with a black bra, showing some of her cleavage and black jeans are hugging her hips like they were made just for her legs. The gorgeous dark brown hair is a sexy mess, framing her beautiful face and hoop earrings.

Whipping around to the other side at the sound of another giggle, Shawn’s mouth goes dry. You smirk, waving your fingers in a seductive way as he recalls you from his dream. The black shirt hangs off one of your shoulders, stopping at the start of your stomach. Matching leather pants hug all your curves the right way, making him swallow.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. The church is closed, I’m not even supposed to be here.” Shawn chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

You hum softly, dragging your fingers down his bulging bicep that’s snug in his black dress shirt. Shawn gulps loud, which causes Camila to chuckle in a sinister way. Far too sinister for being in a church. “I was under the impression priests don’t drink.” you purr, adding more emphasis to the last word as your tongue darts across your lower lip.

Shawn pauses for a moment, his hazel eyes flicking between you and Camila. Nobody could possibly know about his few late night drinks. He made sure he was alone in his office on those nights. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” the young man repeats for the second time, this time more forceful.

A perfect pink pout forms on Camila’s lips and she places a delicate hand on the tuft of dark brown chest hair that’s showing from his shirt. “You aren’t a very good priest, are you? I mean, with the late night drinking-”

“Jesus drank wine on multiple occasions-” Shawn tries to argue, gulping.

“-and those sexual dreams with the three of us?” Camila continues, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. You shake your head teasingly, mimicking her actions.

Shawn swallows, his curls dangling in front of his bright eyes. “I’m sure Jesus had sex dreams too!” he all but squeaks. By now, his natural pink tinted cheeks are a flaming red. He isn’t even thinking about how they know these things.

You let out a laugh, squeezing his biceps. “You’re such a sinful priest!” you smirk, your eyes turning a midnight black.

A shriek of terror comes from the six foot man and he jumps back. “Demons!” Shawn accuses, grabbing the nearest Bible with a shaking hand. “T-this is holy ground, y-you shouldn’t have been able to step f-foot on the prop-erty…” His voice wavers, cracking a couple times.

Camila’s lips tilt into a smirk as she plucks the Bible from his hands, holding the corner with her manicured thumb and pointer finger. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re thinking of regular demons.” she hums, tossing the holy book to the side with ease. The heavy book falls to the carpet face first, creating a loud thud.

“We are succubus (or incubus for males) demons.” you purr in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “We came from your dreams, handsome. The sexual nature of your dream brought us here.” you smirk wickedly.

He brought demons into the church. Shit, this is definitely not what good priests do. Shawn’s faces turns ghost white in the realization of what he’s done. “Y-you… I-I cast you back to Hell, you demons!”

Both of you stare at each other for a solid five seconds before bursting out into a fit of giggles. A frown forms on Shawn’s face and he looks between the two of you. “I cast you back to Hell!” he shouts again, trying not to whine. He’s so fucking tired; it’s past midnight and he just wants to go home.

“I cast you back to Hell!” you mimic him, giggling more.

Camila giggles along with you, resting her forearm on his shoulder while you twirl some of his curls around your finger. “Here’s the deal,” she smirks, “We don’t leave,” she pauses for emphasis, tilting her chin down slightly. “Until we get what we want.” she smiles brightly. “You can’t cast us anywhere, Shawnie boy.” she hums smugly.

Desperate for sleep, Shawn trails his hand down his face. “What do you want?” he asks reluctantly, his deep voice raspy.

You stand on your toes, leaning up to his ear. “Easy, one little thing. Sex.” you whisper in his ear, sucking on his small silver hoop earring. Camila smirks, nodding and rubbing his chest hair.

Shawn shrugs the demons off, starting to walk to the door. “Absolutely not going to happen.” he huffs. “If I can’t banish you, I’m going home.” he opens the door, turning back to see nothing. Good, he thinks to himself.

Walking through the empty dim lit parking lot, Shawn makes his way to his black Jeep. He pops the drivers side door open, throwing his bag in the backseat before climbing into the seat. After shutting the door, a long sigh of relief, mixed with tiredness, escapes him and he rests his forehead on the steering wheel.

“So…” you pop up from the backseat, grinning wickedly as you rest your forearm on the back of the leather driver's seat. Shawn jumps, whipping his head back to look at you. You chuckle, wiggling your fingers in a little wave, showing off the many rings on your fingers.

“Where do you live?” Camila finishes your sentence, smirking. The tips of her hair cascade around her bra, perfectly framing her breasts.

Shawn looks at her, then back at you, slumping in his seat and staring straight ahead. In this moment, there is only one word to describe exactly what he’s thinking, and it’s the unholiest word of them all. “Fuck.”

Taglist:

@peterpxrxer @tvnyrogers @feministfeminist @bruhh-whateven @negative-love @random-writer06

#shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes x you #shawmila #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x reader x camila cabello #shawn mendes x camila cabello #camila cabello #camila cabello x reader #camila cabello imagines #camila cabello imagine

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wait-thats-illegal · 5 years

Text

First off, I want to tag @itstocreateoritstodestroy. I love you so much, dude, you’re awesome!!

But, as I said in a previous post, I wanted to write a snapshot for one of her headcannons, so here it is! Buckle up, emos, this is a long one!

Party Poison likes being kissed, and kissing. It’s no secret. But that’s as far as he’ll take it, and no one knows why.

No one knows the story, except Ghoul, Jet, and Kobra. It caused a lot of rifts between Kobra and him, and Ghoul hated it with a burning passion. But when he and Kobra were first in the Desert, he needed a way to make Carbons. He was pretty, and he knew that… That’s why they liked to call him a pornodroid.

I was so young then, young and full of hope.

Hope. What a strange word, a word that once held meaning for me.

If you would have said that one day I would be void of hope, that I would no longer anxiously await the day to come, I would call you mad. I would have laughed and shook my head, continued working on whatever homework I’d been given the day before.

Kobra was young then too, but he still sees the good in the world. He hasn’t seen all the things that I have seen--he is still innocent, he still holds his innocence tightly, the way a child holds their teddy bear in the night.

I remember the day when I realized that I was the man of the family. The day my mother, a small woman with a soft smile, came to me with teary eyes and told me my father wouldn’t be coming home.

That was the first sliver of hope I had lost--some of my hope had died with my father in the accident that wasn’t an accident. They told her he died in a tragic work accident--we should have expected something like this, he was a carpenter after all--but I knew otherwise. I knew that Better Living Industries had him killed.

Mother never smiled after that day. She never laughed, never told her stories. She woke every morning and dressed in the same white dress and flat shoes, did her hair in a tight bun, kissed both Kobra and I on the forehead and left for work. We were responsible for making our own breakfast.

Kobra was different after too, more quiet and reserved. He rarely spoke to anyone but myself and Mother. Kobra just did as he was told and nothing more--of course, he wasn’t Kobra then, just as I wasn’t Poison.

Day after day, nothing changed. Kobra and I went to school, Mother went to work, and we rarely strayed from our routine.

But one day that all changed.

It wasn’t morning yet, the sun was still sleeping and the moon shone brightly. Kobra was on one side of the room and I was on the other, both curled under the heavy comforters with dreams of a better life, a life where Father was still alive and Mother still smiled. In the dreams, I still had hope.

The door opened with a creak, a beam of yellow light illuminated the dark room.

I woke first, rubbing at my eyes and squinting at the sudden burst of light. Kobra awoke next, murmuring something incoherent. Neither of expected what would come from behind the door.

Mother stood, shushing us softly. She flicked my bedside lamp on and laid two bundles against the door. She sat on the foot of my bed and called Kobra over and reached out to hold my hand, cuddling him and holding me the way she hadn’t done in so long.

“My babies,” Mother whispered. Brushing Kobra’s blonde locks out of his face and kissing his forehead. “You’ve gotten so big, seems like yesterday I rocked you to sleep in my arms.”

“Mother, what’s going on?” I pulled my hand away and ran my fingers through my hair. I was still half asleep, still unsure of what exactly was happening.

“I love you both so much, and nothing will ever change that. You know that, right?” She avoided my question and continued fiddling with Kobra’s hair.

“Of course we know that, Mother. But is something the matter?” I said again. Kobra is silent, leaning his head against Mother’s shoulder, seeming at peace in his current state. He never looked as calm as he did now.

“Always remember that I love you, okay? You have to promise me that you’ll remember that.” She shifted and pulled me into her embrace and I laid my head on her shoulder.

We sat there for many minutes, Kobra on one side and I on the other, in silence. With every passing moment, she held us tighter. She might have began to cry, but I couldn’t have been sure.

Mother turns and kisses Kobra on the forehead, then turns to me and does the same. At this point, I see she truly is crying silent tears.

Without another word, without a proclamation of her undying love for us, she stands swiftly and grabs the two bundles leaning against the door.

“Mother, what are those bags for?” I asked, fearing her response. She held one bag in each hand and gave one to me and one to Kobra. She wiped away her tears with the heel of her hand and smiled softly.

“This is all you’ll need,” Mother pushed the bags into our hands. Kobra watched with fear in his eyes. “It will get you out of the city and has enough provisions to last a week, maybe two. Then you will have to find a way to survive.”

“What are you talking--” Mother cut me off.

“Please don’t ask questions, just do as I say, alright?” She looked at Kobra who had begun to cry. He was barely ten years old and as fragile as a china doll. The tears that shone on his cheeks in the yellow lamp light and glossed his eyes made him look to be made of glass.

Mother reached up and wiped away Kobra’s tears, who sniffled and fought all emotion though little was achieved.

“Baby, please don’t cry. Everything will be alright.” She brought him to her chest and spoke through her own tears.

“Mother, what is going on?” I ask, louder than before.

“It isn’t safe here anymore, you’re not safe anymore.” Mother cups my cheek and thumbs at a lock of brown hair that I hadn’t bothered to brush away. “You’re going to leave the city, I have you these bags packed and ready. I have two more small sacks, you can take what you can carry.”

“Leave the city?” I whispered in fear, my voice small and frail. “But how will we survive?”

“You will find away, you always find a way.” She smiles weakly and stands, grabbing two bags from under the bed that I didn’t know was there. “Get changed, and be quick. There’s no time to waste.”

Mother urged both Kobra and I to stand and we dressed in silence, pulling on our clothes we would wear to school. She looks at the bookshelf and picks items off.

“Here, each of you take a bag. Take whatever you want, as long as you can carry it. Here, you’ll want your books. And your drawing supplies…” She trails off. “Inside of your sack I have a brand new sketchbook for you, you’ve asked for one for a while.”

I tuck the books and supplies into the empty back and grab as many pens and pencils as I can get. A Bible goes in the bag too, as well as a photograph of my mother and father.

“Mikey, don’t forget your bear.” She points to his bed. Kobra grabbed the little bear, gave it a tight hug, and stuffed it into his bag.

When we gathered all we needed to, both Kobra and I had two full bags. Mother lead us to the front door and whispered hastily.

“Go through the alleyways, don’t walk on the streets. Stay in the shadows. You’ll know the way out. And…” She pulls both us to her chest and sobs again. “And don’t forget that I love you, I love you both so, so much. Please, never forget that. You’re my babies, you always will be.”

“I love you, Mother.” Kobra whispered into her hair. Her hair fell down past her shoulders in long waves, the first time I saw her wear her hair down in a long time.

“I love you too, Mikey. And you, Gerard.” She kissed us both on the head.

Pulling me aside, she slipped something into my hand. A pocket watch that no longer told time--a watch that belonged to my father.

“Mother, this was Father’s watch. Why are you giving it to me?” I ask quietly. She frowns at the watch and sniffles.

“You were right, darling. This whole time, about your father, you were right. They killed him.” She pushes it into the palm of my hand. “And they will kill you too if you don’t leave. You and your brother. That’s why you must leave the city.”

“But this is our home.”

“No, baby. No, it isn’t. It was never our home.” She brushes my hair out of my face and smiles. “But I want you to make yourself a home. I want you to make a new name, a new identity, and make your own home.”

“Alright, Mother.” I said. I turned to the door where Kobra stood, and went to him. I turned to look at Mother. “Aren’t you coming?”

She sniffled and shook her head. “No, I’m not coming. I can’t. But, Gerard, I want you to promise me two things.”

“Yes?” I said.

“I want you to protect your brother. Keep him safe, please. And… and always remember that I love you. I love you so much.” She looks down, no longer able to look me in the eye.

“I will, Mother. I’ll protect him, and I’ll remember. I promise.” I held the pocket watch tighter.

She came and embraced us both tightly, tighter than ever before. I felt her tears drip onto the fabric of my shirt.

“I love you.” She whispered, words thick with emotion.

She looked up, kissed us on the head again, and smiled weakly.

“Go,” She whispered. “Go, and don’t look back.”

I was fourteen years old the day I escaped the city. I was fourteen years old the last time I saw my mother. I was fourteen years old the day I was no longer a boy, but a man.

Kobra was only ten years old, despite being three years younger than myself. His birthday that year hadn’t came around. He turned eleven somewhere in Zone Three.

During the nights we slept close together, our bodies warm against the frigid desert temperature.

During the days we sweated under the sun, wondering how we had made it that far.

Mother had packed a few Carbons, enough to get us to Zone Three. By then we were running scarcely low on supplies and Carbons.

I had to figure out a way to get more Carbons, to protect Kobra. By then he had become Kobra and I had become Poison. We were no longer the boys we were in Battery City, those boys died when Mother opened the door that night.

Those boys died in tears and yellow lamp light.

For days I thought and worried about how to get Carbons, enough to buy at least some food.

A woman came up to me, a woman whose face I will never forget.

Tan cheeks and olive skin, blonde hair that fell in rings. Eyes that were black inkwells, though they were supposed to be blue. She smelled like sand and motor oil, but something sweet laced the two together.

She touched my shoulder in the back of a rundown shop, muttering something about how strong I looked, how defined. She obviously looked past my sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks, my lips were chapped and my skin burned.

The moment her hand touched my coat, I knew that I could find a way to make Carbons. I didn’t know how many Carbons, but surely enough to buy dinner for Kobra and myself.

The woman and I made a deal, and I told Kobra I would be right back. I assured him I was fine and to stay in the store, I told him he was not to leave.

The woman and I left to a place I do not remember where, but the dark room and tattered mattress was ingrained into my mind.

That was the day I wasn’t innocent anymore, in more than one way.

All my life I had aged faster than I was meant to. I was never a child, a true child. I never sat a drew scribbles, never cuddled my teddy bear under the covers and trusted he would protect me from the monsters under the bed.

I was never afraid of the monster under my bed or the shadow in the closet, I knew those were just my imagination. But I knew there were real monsters in the world, but all the monsters looked just like everyone else.

At times I couldn’t tell the difference between friend or foe because my mind told me that no one was to be trusted. They all wanted to hurt me. The only people I ever truly trusted was Mother, Father, and Kobra. One is dead, one is as good as dead. After we left in the middle of the night, I never saw my Mother again. I do not know what became of her--I do not know if she is even alive.

There was something in me that died the day I was told my father wasn’t coming home, and something else when Mother sent us out to the Zones.

Up until the day I met the woman with the inkwell eyes and blonde hair, I still had hope.

Hope that one day everything would be better, hope that one day Kobra and I could go home, hope that one day we were truly safe.

But when I fell against that mattress, when I felt the woman’s touch and felt both our sweat together, all hope was lost.

My hope died the day that my innocence died.

I didn’t tell Kobra what happened, not until years later. At the time, all he needed to know was that I made enough Carbons for us to have dinner for two nights, and maybe enough for him to pick a small trinket from the back aisle of the rundown store.

I didn’t tell anyone, but the right people always knew. Maybe the woman told them, maybe something inside them urged them to me.

I didn’t care, I didn’t want to know why they came to me. I didn’t want to know their names or their story, I didn’t want anything other than making enough Carbons so Kobra and I could live.

Along the way I met many people. Many kind people, many loving people.

People who showed me how to live, how to dance without a care, how to hotwire a car and do graffiti.

Those people also saved my ass more than once.

The people came and went, but two stayed around.

One was a man named Jet Star, the other a man named Fun Ghoul. They became brothers to Kobra and I, just as we became brothers to them.

We found a rundown diner somewhere in Zone Four and decided to call it home. Mother told me that night I was to make a new identity for myself and that I was to find myself a home.

And I did.

Over the years I became Party Poison, a nineteen year old anarchist who lived with three other guys in an old gas station. I became an artist, and a writer. I became the leader of a revolution of a cause that I didn’t quite understand but I was behind fully.

I never told Kobra, or anyone for that matter, what I had done with that woman and so many others all those years ago in order to survive until years later.

I was ashamed of myself, ashamed that someone who once had hopes and dreams became as low as me. I admitted to myself, in the darkness of a room of a woman I did not know, that I was doing this to live. I didn’t want to do this, but I had to. I couldn’t let Kobra starve, I had to protect him.

I will never forget the way Kobra’s face fell slack when I told him where I went and what I did with the woman with the inkwell eyes and blonde hair. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or ashamed or a combination of both.

Ghoul, too, was angry. I had never seen him so angry before the day where I told him what I had done. I didn’t understand why he was, he had nothing to do with it.

Jet was just silent. He never spoke of what he thought of my actions, instead keeping everything to himself. No matter how much I yelled or screamed or threatened him, he never told me.

Maybe his silence was the worst of all.

I do not speak of what I did with people whose names I do not know, most of whom whose faces I do not remember. I will not deny what I did to survive, but I do not willingly speak of my actions to anyone.

I realize now, just as I did as I laid on the tattered mattress in a dim room, that I am not the boy I once was. I never will be him again, that boy is dead.

A part of myself died with my father, a part of myself died with the boy I once was, and a part of myself died with every person I sinned with.

All those people took something of mine, something I once cherished and would do anything to get back. Those people took my hope and my innocence.

But as I look back now, realizing that everything ended up somewhat alright, I see that I am built of lies and sins.

I committed acts I never should have, acts I never truly understood and still don’t. I was with those people in ways I never thought possible.

I lied my way through many years, not telling Kobra where I got the Carbons we live of. I never told him why my lips always seemed swollen, or why I had bruises in the strangest of places. I never told him the horrible things I did to survive.

I prayed so often during those times. I prayed for hours, speaking to a Man who never spoke back to me. I’ve been given signs and my faith has never faltered, but I fear I am no longer able to call myself a man of faith.

The sins I have committed were horrible, never once did I take any sort of pleasure from my acts. Sinful nature is all it was. Sinful nature that kept both Kobra and I alive.

I prayed and prayed, fearing that because of what I had done, that I no longer had a Heavenly Father. I was not worthy to one day go to Heaven; Heaven is for pure people, I was not pure.

But still, I prayed.

And now, in the silence of the night as I lay curled on an old mattress in the diner, I think back to everything I have done to get to where I am now.

I no longer have my innocence, nor my childhood hope, or even a will to live at points. I have tried to kill myself but I was never successful. I was too scared to leave Kobra alone, too scared to hurt him though I wanted nothing more than to die.

Though I lost everything I once had and can never be the boy I was before, I know now that everything happened for a reason. I hate the reason, I hate it with a burning passion, but it was a reason.

What that reason is, I don’t know.

But looking at where I am now, I wouldn’t change a thing.

* * * *

Hello! I know that this a major stretch of what I normally do and I probably won’t write something like this again. For those of y’all who’ve read my writing before, y’all know that I have always incorporated religion into my writing and I did it again. Anyways, I hope y’all liked this.!! Comment your thoughts!!

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years

Text

Usurp The Throne

So I’m taking a stab at the other part of my Horror Movie AU with Ghost, and this is also technically part of the NOLA AU as I have it taking place with Eugene living there with Snafu, so both tags are gonna be on this one!

if y’all have never looked them up or heard them, give ‘em a whirl. It’s catchy Swedish metal with a hint of pop...idk magic? I can’t describe it exactly it just works.

The song in question that inspired this one can be listened to right here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/4yrxgaL6zAsxkeMCwCtORS

I might do more of these based on more songs, but we’ll see how this one goes first. If nothing else, I’m def indulging myself here but I can’t help it lol.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!!

“That’s a goddamn zombie,” Snafu stuttered, and dashed away from the window, his eyes wide.

“Very funny,” Eugene replied as he flipped to the next page in his book. “It isn’t even Halloween, but nice try. You aren’t gonna get me this time though. Not like last time with the vampires.”

“That was funny though,” Snafu chuckled. “Poor thing, thinkin’ we had vampire neighbors.”

“After they party all night, every night, they look like ‘em. Still wish I could convince them to sleep for a night then come over for brunch,” Eugene sighed. “They seem like nice people, but they keep turnin’ me down.”

“Maybe this gal will wanna come in for a nightcap,” Snafu said, slowly approaching the window again, as if something would come bursting through it.

“You’re still tryin’ this, really? Okay, show me this spooky zombie,” Eugene set down his book on the coffee table, pulled himself from the comfort of the couch, and walked to the window.

She was...rotting. There was no nice way to put it, no bush to beat around because the whole garden was already burned down. She dripped with the moss of the swamps from the outside of town, her bone exposed on various limbs, bits of muscle and gristle still hanging to some. And she was headed towards their door.

“Jesus Christ,” Eugene backed away from the window, and searched for his Bible on the nearby bookshelf. “Is the door locked? Make sure it’s locked, and we can push the couch in front of-Snafu!”

Snafu was at the door, and had opened it, staring at the woman as she stepped in front of him.

“May I come inside? It’s so dreadfully cold tonight...”

“It is August, and I have sweated through two shirts today,” Eugene said briskly, gently moving Snafu aside from the door. “But that’s what you say no matter what time of year it is, don’t you?”

The woman’s eyes were somehow intact, though cloudy enough that he wondered how she could even see to walk around. “What year is it?”

“1947,” Snafu piped up from behind him. “What year was it when you died?”

“Merriell!” Eugene scolded. “Please don’t encourage this!”

“She’s a real, live zombie! You tellin’ me we really aren’t gonna let her in and ask some questions?”

Eugene sighed in desperation and frustration. “No, I don’t really want a dead woman in our house. Why on earth do you?”

The woman’s sniffling caught his attention, and his glare fell.

“I...how awful do I look?” she asked. “It was 1760...I was waiting for my sweetheart near her work and...”

She broke out into gasping sobs, despite there apparently being no fluid left in her to create tears.

“Okay, come in, come in. Not gonna leave a crying woman in the street, even if you are dead,” Eugene said, moving aside to let her in.

“Do you remember what happened? Who killed you?” Snafu’s eyes were wide, with curiosity now instead of fear.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please...”

“I’m sorry. It’s just...I mean...well, not often we have a guest like you,” Snafu said.

“Or guests period,” Eugene remarked, thinking of the neighbors.

“I...where do I go? What do I do? Why am I awake again?” the woman was suddenly encased in a fear of her own, and reached out to grab Snafu’s hand. “What curse is this?”

Snafu stared at her hand on his, the bone of her fingers visible in her viscera that should have been so much more decayed than it was, and Eugene caught his eye to try and calm him.

“Look. I...this is is far out of my range of what I know that I can’t even begin to explain it,” he said as he motioned for all of them to sit on the couch, though he feared for cleaning the couch later. “But maybe we can help. Somehow. I’m not really sure how...”

“I just wish I knew why,” she sighed. “I mean...I remember some things after.”

“Like what?” Snafu asked, a look of horror on his face.

“The alligators. I never feared them much in life, but they were hungry. I don’t blame them for what they did,” she said, and with growing terror Eugene noted the scrape and bite marks on some of her exposed bone.

“Could you feel it?” Snafu looked like he had thousands of questions behind his eyes, spinning in his head, but he seemed to be holding back for the woman’s sake.

She nodded. “It wasn’t exactly painful just...sensation. But I fell back asleep then...or died again, however you want to put it. I mean, I must have been dead already. I must be now.”

“Y’know,” Snafu said. “The city has a bit of a reputation now. For some spookiness. If you don’t...fall back asleep, maybe you could capitalize on that.”

“How is she gonna do that?” Eugene asked. “Move in down the street and make herself a roadside attraction? That’s no way to live...er, or not live.”

“Nah, nah. The swamps. How cool and creepy would it be, for there to be a myth of a Zombie Queen, haunting the swamp. Reigning over it all. If you wanna pass through, you better look out for her,” Snafu grinned, and gently took her hand in his. “You could do it, I bet.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said softly. “I just want...I don’t know. To be somewhere safe. Your face when you saw me...I must look horrible. I can’t stay near town, or I’ll scare everyone.”

“Exactly! You get your peace in the swamp, maybe take over one of the abandoned cabins out that way. Make an appearance every now and again to creep people out, and they’ll fear you but leave you be cause they know if they bug you, maybe somethin’ bad’ll happen. But nothin’ bad has to happen; we’ll just start the rumors that somethin’ would. We could do that, right, Eugene?”

It wasn’t a bad idea. He felt for her, even as some of her flesh fell off of her onto the floor. She wasn’t the malevolent creature come to attack them like he’d thought. She was hurt and scared and lonely, and it seemed hadn’t even known really that she was dead until now. She deserved peace, if she was to deal with having been brought back to something near life by some unknown force.

“I think we could do that. We travel out to the swamps on occasion, and I think we could report back a haunted cabin everyone should avoid for their own safety, and the sighting of a powerful and terrifying Zombie Queen, who commands the creatures of the swamp and has defeated death itself,” he replied.

If she could have blushed, he figured she would have been, her eyelash-free lids fluttering softly as she giggled. “That’s a lot. But I like it. I just want to be left alone. Maybe get to fall back asleep again, and hopefully never wake up like this.”

They drove her out of town towards the nearest swamp, after making a stop at the home of one of the queens they knew who had dresses that were being rotated out of their closet.

The woman looked queenly now, in a thick black velvet gown, covered in sequins. It clung just closely enough to show off the shape of her exposed rib-cage, and she smiled as they traveled.

At the edge of the swamp, they got out with her, looking out into the mossy waters.

“You ready, Zombie Queen?” Snafu asked.

Again, Eugene could envision the blush that would have colored her face. “I think so. I...you didn’t have to help me. You could have more easily hurt me and dumped me somewhere else. And you’d be justified, given how strange this all is...”

“We’ve dealt with weird things before. This won’t be the last thing, I’m sure,” Eugene smiled. “I do have to ask though, before you go: what’s your name? We can’t just call you Zombie Queen to everyone.”

“Clara,” she replied. “But I don’t know if that’s a real queenly name. My sweetheart, now she had the queenly name. She was a queen, to me.”

His heart dropped in sorrow. “What was her name?”

“Delphine. Do you think you could use that instead? I think it sounds better...and then whenever anyone is talking about me, it’ll be sort of like they’re talking about both of us,” she said.

“Zombie Queen Delphine,” Snafu smiled, but Eugene could see the tears at the corners of his eyes. “We’ll start spreadin’ word as soon as we get back to town.”

“Thank you,” she smiled gently, and turned to the water. As she walked into it, it was as if the animals in the water somehow knew, and respected her new title. The alligators in the water all popped up around her, not attacking her, but watching, creating a sort of aisle for her to walk down as she drifted towards the other shore, far away, where one of the abandoned homes they had found in trips previous sat.

They held hands on the ride home, both of them asking the same question in their heads. If it was them in Clara (or rather, Delphine’s) situation, would they be strong enough to deal with living without each other?

He wanted to think yes, but he knew that he couldn’t truly know for sure if it wouldn’t drive him mad. To be stuck somewhere between life and death, hundreds of years later, with Snafu dead and gone. He admired her strength and ability to tackle her new life, or whatever you would call what she had now.

For now, he relished the feeling of Snafu’s hand in his, and focused on appearing as scared as possible for when they got back into town. They’d really have to sell it, and he was prepared to make sure everyone they met believed in the Zombie Queen Delphine, ruler of the swamp.

#text post #LeeH writes #Sledgefu #Horror Movie AU #NOLA AU #tbh I really like the character I created here and I hate that her story went sad on me #I want to write a sequel to this and give her back her girlfriend #just two zombie queens ruling #just girly things ya know

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clown-bait · 6 years

Text

Paranormal Journeys Part 7 (Monster Roommate AU)

WOW I FINALLY DID IT. So I started a new job and things have been NUTS but this fic is not dead and I am determined to finish it. And dont you worry folks I’m a stubborn ass who does not quit. So here it is the next chapter. Leech gets tortured a bit and Penny visits an old friend. Hope you guys like it!

Ch 7 Mike Hanlon gets a Visitor

A screech echoed though the old barn of the former Hanlon sheep farm. Leech glanced furiously around the stall she was in. A moment ago she was full and happy then suddenly a cloth was pressed to her mouth and a bag over her head.

“WHO THE FUCK IS THE IDIOT THAT CHLOROFORMED ME!!” The vampire roared “CAUSE I’D LIKE TO KNOW WHO’S HEAD IM RIPPING OFF FIRST!”

Her head snapped in the direction of footsteps and she tried to charge with supernatural speed but felt a short chain attached to her neck snap tight. The nosferatu snapped her jaws in frustration.

“Ok guys get everything ready make sure the cameras are rolling and somebody wake up Chris.” Zander shouted as he approached the struggling vampire.

“Don't worry we’re going to help you.”

“BITCH THE ONLY HELP I NEED IS FINDING SPACE TO STORE YOUR LEFTOVERS!!” She snapped.

The ghost hunter pulled a cross from his coat and held it out at the nosferatu who began to hiss loud and sweat. He quickly put it away at her reaction.

“She's possessed all right, did you see how much she recoiled in terror? this is definitely a powerful demon were dealing with here”

“Demon?! Motherfucker I'm friends with demons, you wouldn't know a demon if it came up and bit you in the ass.” Leech spat and pulled on her chain.

��Note the foul language and denial. The creature that has ahold of her is definitely scared and trying to protect its self.”

“Protect myself from what? This shit show excuse of a reality tv exorcism? Tell ya what, if you free my hands i’ll spew pea soup at big boy over there and speak latin backwards. These shackles are tight as fuck can’t a girl get a little comfort?”

“Gosh its foul mouthed.” the bigger ghost hunter said to the team.

“Yeah thats how they are bro it's definitely going to try to provoke us. Whatever you do don't engage.” Zander said to his team mate while placing different items on a table

“You started it.” Leech mumbled. “What are those?”

“We're going to force you out of this poor girl.”

“AH! So its to be torture! I can cope with torture.” Leech flashed a cocky grin and wiggled her eyebrows expectantly.

“Did you…. steal that line from Princess Bride?” the bigger ghost hunter Rick asked her.

“Eeeyyy! Someone finally gets my references! And to think I was gonna eat this guy first!”

“RICK don't engage it!” Zander hissed

“Found our villain! Now tell me do you have six fingers on your left hand or am I gonna be calling you Humperdink”

“I think it was the right hand” Rick interjected

“Huh no shi-OW FUCK JESUS CHRIST!!!” Leech screamed as holy water was flung at her face by the lead ghost hunter. A cluster of painful burns began to bubble on her skin where the water had landed. “RUDE!”

“Silence demon!”

“I’M NOT A DEMON! GOD you are like the biggest edge lord! What’s next? You gonna start shouting bible verses too like they do in the movies?” she snarled as Chris walked in the room.

“Z I had the weirdest fucking dream.”

“Not now bro we’re doing the exorcism.”

“Yeah poorly. Bet you dickbags got all your training from bad horror movies and porn parodies.”

“Sheesh that thing is nasty” Chris winced

“Demon Dick 5?” the Rick asked as his companions glared at him in shock and annoyance.

“One of my favorites Rick. I like this guy have him do the exorcism!”

“We've already wasted enough time!” Zander shouted and picked up a book from the table he began to read a passage and Leech dramatically pretended to hiss and writhe her tongue lolling out of her mouth. “Hahaha Man oh man if Phil could hear you guys talking about him like this he'd be laughing with me just as hard! Shit wait somebody text him for me!”

“Why would we do that? Also who's phil?”

“Oh right, Phil is Satan we used to play poker together before my boyfriend banned it from the house. Not my doing for once lets get that clear.”

“Don't listen to a word its saying guys”

“Aw come on Humperdink let me just text my buddy once” her eyes flashed white over in Rick’s direction before being splashed with holy water once again. The nosferatu’s skin sizzled and steam rose from her burns. “J-just….text…LOL getting… a half assed….exorcism…hit send…. mph there.”

Chris glanced over to Rick who’s eyes had rolled up into his head he was holding her cellphone which just buzzed with a notification. “RICK SNAP OUT OF IT!” he shouted and turned to the grinning vampire pelting a rock at her face. “LET HIM GO”

Leech spat as the stone broke her nose and looked back up sticking her tongue out through the black ichor dripping down her face.

“CHRIS! Control yourself!” Zander shouted and Leech winked back at the two.

“Read it Ricky!” she smirked.

“I-it says R-O-F-L cant be there, at yoga getting this ass….its a picture of a goat and a woman’s back side” Rick’s eyes rolled back down and Leech vomited a small amount of black goo onto the barn floor. “Phew that took more out of me than I thought” she muttered and panted.

“RICK!”

“I'm sorry she did something to my head!”

“Ok but can you at least show the picture though?” the vampire asked looking up from her now bruising eye and nose.

“NO!” the other two ghost hunters turned and shouted.

“OH COME ON! I wanna see that booty”

“WOW this thing is terrible!” Chris glanced over at Zander who was prepping to try another round of bible verses.

“I know bro this is one of the nastiest ones we've dealt with! This is pure evil we’re dealing with here.” The lead ghost hunter clapped his friend on the shoulder reassuringly.

“Aww I'm blushing! you really mean it?!” the vampire shouted to them

“Bro hand me my rosary.”

“What are those? Anal beads? So you HAVE seen Demon Dick 5!”

Zander got close and began to shout “IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST I COMMAND YOU TO GET OUT OF THIS WOMANS BODY”

“Hahaha that was totally a direct quote.” Leech laughed again but was cut short when the silver cross dangled in front of her face “FUCK GET IT AWAY!” She hissed and the ghost hunter dangled it closer to her. Leech could feel her skin burn with heat where it drew close. The ghost hunter threw another wave of holy water at her and she hissed in pain face turning skeletal for a second as her skin sizzled. “A-all right if were gonna get straight into the kinky stuff we should at least have a safe word. Mine’s usually Float.” she tried to joke through the pain. Her skin was on fire with the crucifix being so close.

“Z I don't think she's a demon” Rick said tugging on his leaders arm

“Rick I’ve been at this way longer than you I know a demon when I see one”

“Bullshit you're doing this all wrong. Plus Im not a demon I can prove it too if you hand me that orange.” Leech panted.

“I don't know Z this could be a trick” Chris said with worry.

“Look have you ever seen one do some of the shit she just did? Just hand her the orange”

“Fine Rick. Fine. We’ll humor you but if nothing happens we’re getting right back to the exorcism.”

Zander rolled the fruit over to the vampire who glared up at him from her knees “You gonna undo my hands so I can eat this?”

“No.”

“Weeeelllll fuck you then! So much for what’s left of my dignity.” she grumbled and bent down to the floor biting into the fruit as best she could to suck out the juice. “Ahm hoing to rerhet hiss ho huch…” she said while her fangs sunk in. Leech came up with a weak expression on her battered and burnt face looking nauseous and dizzy. “You're all gonna wanna stand back when I- HURK!” the vampire suddenly lurched forward and spewed out blood and guts onto the barn floor in an inhuman amount. She kept going for a solid five minutes until Leech was slumped over supported by the chain around her neck. “Huh, is that an engagement ring? Shit I need to chew my food.” she wheezed before emptying the rest of her stomach contents.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” all three ghost hunters screamed in unison.

“Yeah lets see Pazuzu pull that shit!” Leech grinned declaring victory before shouting at some unknown force in the ground “YOU HERE THAT ZUZU I JUST OUT WEIRDED YOU! WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW BITCH!? PEA SOUP GOT NOTHING ON ME!”

“Zander! If this is not a demon then what the hell is she bro?” Chris turned to his leader in a panic

“Nosferatu.” a vaguely familiar female voice said walking into the barn “What you're dealing with is a nosferatu.”

leech sniffed the air and snarled in disgust.

“Fuck.”

———————————————————————-

Somewhere in the town of Derry, Mike Hanlon was laying in his bed coming down from another high. It was time to turn in for the night but with all that had been going on the last couple days the librarian needed a fix…. just a quick one to calm the nerves. His night would be anything but calm when two glowing yellow eyes lit up his room like the obnoxious christmas lights his neighbors had set up.

“Mike” something whispered in the dark “Mike! Help us!” came another disembodied voice. He knew them all too well. The librarian sat up in his bed glancing around his room unaware of the creeping fingers clawing up his mattress. Burnt hands wrapped around the terrified man pinning him down while a disheveled looking monster from his childhood nightmares stepped into the moonlight.

“Thought you could trick me did ya Mikey? Thought you could fool Ol’Pennywise by taking what he loves most. Stupid boy! Stupid, stupid, stupid! No one fools me. no one.” the clown began his voice shaky and dangerous trying to mask the obvious panic behind it as he paced. The creature’s posture and gait reminded him of a nervous caged animal unpredictable and dangerous. Something was very wrong with IT.

“Y-you? W-hy are you here?” the librarian asked cautiously.

“TELL ME where she is SHEEP BOY. Tell Penny where his peachy is and he’ll make it much much quicker for you. Yes! A quick death or a slow one pick your path!” he snarled as Mike was trying to decide if he was still high.

“A-are you real?”

“REAL? Real THIS ISNT REAL ENOUGH FOR YOU MIKEY?”

Mike’s stomach flip flopped in realization of the little reminder of all those years ago. IT had to be real and now IT was in his bedroom.

“Penny knows you need time, yes iIknow you haven't figured out that stupid reptile’s riddles. Don't you fret sheep boy I am just here for her this time. Bring her to me, bring me my mate and you can go back to trying to understand what mortals cannot.” IT was frantically babbling around his room pacing like a tiger in a small cage looking almost fearful its self. Mike remembered that look well the last emotion he saw on ITs face before it vanished down that hole. Something was very, very wrong.

“A mate? …You?!” he asked trying to keep the creature talking to piece the situation together as best he could.

The clown shot him an unamused look as if this was far from the first time someone has asked that. “Where is my Leechie!? I am the questioner here!”

“You're talking about Lucy right? Something’s happened to her?”

“Lucy… Lucy yes, yes her human name. Don’t play games sheep boy release her to me!” Pennywise snarled while he stalked beginning to impatiently kick things over and sniff items of clothing desperate for that sweet smell of blood and ashes.

“Even if I did know where she is, why would I help you?”

The clown roared and charged forward coming in close to the trapped man on the bed fangs bared long and needle like. IT spat in Mike’s face drool and bits of flesh hitting his skin as it spoke. Something was very off with IT more so than usual, as if possessed by some sort of ancient instinct overriding its usual demeanor.

“You want to stop me don't you? I’ll let you live Mikey! Yesss I’ll let you try! One free shot! Just give me my Peachy!” IT was bargaining now just like it did in the cistern 27 years ago. The clown must be desperate.

“I don't have her” the librarian spat back at the clown who snarled and grabbed his throat. Suddenly Mike felt searing pain in his mind as IT forcibly invaded his thoughts its eyes blackened on the edges pupils drifting off into different directions till he found what he was looking for and returned them to focus. IT’s face changed again from rage, to shock and finally to embarrassment. In IT’s hate fueled assault on its enemy IT had made a grave mistake. Mike had nothing to do with his precious mate. In fact all Pennywise had done was just reveal his greatest weakness to his greatest enemy. IT had messed up and it had messed up bad.

The clown released the librarian and awkwardly backed up off the bed eyes large and wide. Wordlessly, IT glanced over to Mike’s bedroom door and without breaking eye contact opened it while silently slinking out like a dog with its tail between its legs. The hands around the librarian vanished into smoke and everything became calm and quiet around him. “What the hell just happened?” he asked the empty void not expecting to get a response and not sure if he wanted one either.

———————————

Pennywise returned to his home to find his…..friends? Seated on his couch awaiting the result of his hasty impromptu rescue mission. That, and they were probably mad that he tore Freddy’s head back off in rage. Even his cat seemed a bit upset with him.

“Well? Did you embarrass yourself?” Chucky asked him taking a drag from one of Leech’s joints.

“It…..it wasn't the librarian…” the clown muttered.

“Oh yeah he embarrassed himself.” Freddy laughed still applying a few more staples to his neck.

“Hey if Fangs doesn't come back can I use her room? Thinkin’ about making it into a nice man cave” Chucky boldly asked earning him a death glare from the distressed clown.

Penny snarled and shooed everyone away from his couch snatching up Church to absentmindedly pet as if the cat was a coping mechanism for his current state. What if she doesn't come back? There were emotions he was feeling he didn't think were possible. His new strange instinct to protect driving him to near insanity as he was currently in a constant war with himself to drive the feeling back. Nature and ego raged war inside the eldritch being.

His inner thoughts were interrupted when the door to Neibolt House creaked open the residents all took their leave except the owner who still sat on his couch stroking his cat not wanting to put any effort into this one.

“H-Hello?” a voice called out. “Uh clown? Pennywise?” Mike had never actually called the clown by name before it felt weird on his tongue.

Something appeared behind the librarian blocking his exit.

“What do you want” IT hissed low and in a whisper. Mike turned to see the god of fear its self looming behind him with a plump dirty grey cat tucked under its arm. The two stared at each other in hatred and confusion. The librarian looked at Church and back to the clown.

“Is that a cat?”

“Possibly..��

“Are you going to explain why you have it?”

“No.”

“….what the hell happened to you?” Mike whispered half to the clown half to himself.

“Why are you here?” pennywise snarled growing impatient.

“I cant believe I'm saying this but I'm here to….help.”

“YOU WHAT?!” the house shook with the inhuman roar released from Pennywise’s throat.

“LET ME EXPLAIN HOLD ON!” the librarian put his hands out in an attempt to calm the savage beast who had nearly thrown the animal in its arms.

“You have five seconds human before I tear out your eyes.”

“Look you want your…uh girlfriend or whatever she is back. I need more time to figure out how to kill you.”

“Is this a bargain?” the clown raised his eyebrow suspiciously.

“Whoever has her is most likely trying to get to you and will try to harm you as well. We both know all they will do is send you back to sleep and if that happens I can’t stop you and you lose the girl. I can help you get her back. I have a way into the farm, and I can distract whoever has her as a friendly face. Then we can go back to trying to kill each other, business as usual.”

The clown glared at mike with a fury that made the librarian tremble with fear. This had been a mistake he was going to die and everything will be ruined on this stupid risk.

“You dare assume I cannot solve my own problems sheep boy?? What’s to stop me from tearing you apart right now.”

“That.” Mike pointed behind the clown. Pennywise slowly turned to see a box with a balloon tied to it specifically just to mock him. The clowns eyes grew wide as he sniffed the air and saw the black ooze leaking out of the corner of the cardboard. With careful claws he opened the lid and peered inside letting out one of the most horrifying sounds Mike Hanlon had ever heard in his life. The box was thrown to the floor and an object rolled out of it. It was a cold pale finger tipped with a sharp feminine nail and the blood that leaked from it was black.

-------------------

Uh oh what did Leechie do this time? Poor clown be going NUTS over all this. Im so excited to do some frenemy shit with Pen and Mike like Ive been DYING to get here. Also its Leech’s turn to meet an old enemy. Wonder who it is?

#monster roommate au #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise x oc #horror fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #it fanfiction #losers club #mike hanlon #nosferatu oc #vampire oc #leech needs to stop antagonizing people

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ohfrickfanfic · 6 years

Text

Daddy Issues

Requested by @duryik - Ok I’ve got an idea (Another Josh x reader) So your just moved into a new apartment like a few weeks ago so you don’t really know the neighbors. You get locked out of your apartment (with your phone in there) so you go across the hall to ask to borrow their phone to call your super and when the door opens you’re greeted with a sweaty sexy Josh who just came back from practice (maybe he needs to blow off some steam 😉)and one thing leads to another he’s nailing you with a (daddy and choking kink.

I also had a separate private request to add face sitting to a fic so I threw that in here too.

So I based this off my own real life "daddy issues" I thought it would be therapeutic to write about or cathartic as Tyler would say. But basically, this same exact scenario happened to me except my dad didn't call me he just showed up at my new house with bags backed like I was just gonna let him move in. Oh and he also wasn't 'allowed' at my wedding either but those are stories for another day... Josh is in the band in this but reader is written as being unfamiliar with the band and who Josh is.

You can listen to the daddy kink playlist used in this fic here, feel free to suggest more songs it’s pretty short.

Pairings: Josh x Reader

Warnings/tags: daddy kink, choking, face sitting

You hang up your phone, and whip it into the couch. It bounces off and lands on the floor with a thud as tears of anger sting the corners of your eyes and stream down your face. It was just like your father to be a manipulating selfish asshole. You should be used to this by now he's been like this ever since he left you and your mom for another woman when you were ten. You've hardly seen him since except for split holidays and the court ordered every other weekend visitations while you were growing up. Even then he hardly spoke two words to you unless it was to brag about a big buck he killed hunting, or to berate you for being bisexual after your new stepsister outed you. But luckily, kindly reminding him that adultery is also 'against the bible' quickly put an end to that. Still, with that information, you quickly became his pawn in a messy divorce and child support battle. "Tell your mom not to take your father back to court for child support or I'll tell your little secret on the stand if she does," his new wife would threaten and he'd allow. He also missed a lot of important events in your life including your sweet sixteen; he wasn't allowed to go per his new wife. It's not like he even remembered your birthday anyway, he'd call to say Happy Birthday in May when your birthday's in March, and you'll never forget the time he called to ask you for your birth-date for some paperwork for his job.

As you grew older you spoke less and less often years would go by without a word. But of course the second he heard through the grapevine that you've moved out of your mother's house and now have an apartment of your own he calls. Apparently several years and four more kids later, his new wife cheated on him and kicked him out and now he needs a place to live. While you couldn't be any more pleased with karma, the audacity of your father's request to live with you filled you with such rage that all you could do was laugh maniacally at the absurdity before you hung up.

You decide to go for a walk to calm down and help clear your head but the second you close the door to your new apartment behind you, you realize you locked your keys inside. Frantically, you tap your pockets looking for your phone to call your best friend who has a spare when it suddenly it hits you that in your emotional state you absentmindedly left it inside as well.

Well, this is one way to meet my new neighbors, you think to yourself as you knock on the door across the hall to ask to use the phone.

"Coming!" You hear a male voice shout, as you quickly wipe your face with your hands hoping your makeup is not streaked all over it. "Can I help you?" A colorful haired man asks from behind the chain latch of the now slightly ajar door.

"Hi..umm ..yes sorry to bother you but I just moved in across the hall and I accidentally locked my keys and phone inside and I was wondering if I could use your phone to call someone to bring me a spare,” you ramble like an idiot, what a great first impression I'm making on the new neighbors already. You think to yourself.

"Yeah sure hold on," he says before closing the door. You can hear the clang of the sliding chain lock. "You don't recognize me, do you?" He asks once he opens the door back up. It seems like an odd question and you study him briefly thinking maybe you've met before. But you're fairly certain you would remember the gorgeous creature before you with brightly colored hair, and a wet sculpted body with nothing but a towel around his waist.

"I'm sorry were you in the shower when I knocked? You ask apologetically, "But no, I'm sorry I don't recognize you, should I?"

"No, it's okay I like it better this way," he smiles as he closes the apartment door behind you . "and no I was just about to get in actually I'm all sweaty from drum practice, but don't worry about it I'd rather help a pretty girl in distress," he smirks. "Have a seat on the couch, I'll grab you my phone."

You take a seat on the couch and he returns a few moments later cellphone in hand. He's now wearing an extremely low riding pair of grey sweatpants that don't leave anymore to the imagination than the towel did. You can't help but stare at the chiseled V of his hips that are drawing your eyes down to the slight cloth covered bulge below as he hands you the phone. The sight is enough to make you squeeze your thighs together; God, what you would do for a nice orgasm as a distraction right now.

"Need anything, water, LaCroix, Red Bull?" He calls from behind you now in the kitchen of the open floor plan, as you scour your brain, silently cursing technology for not allowing you to recall your best friends phone number without it so conveniently listed in your contacts.

How about for you to fuck me until I forget. Your mind wanders. but "Water's fine," is all you say.

"Sure thing," he answers. "So how'd you manage to lock your phone and keys inside anyways? You looked pretty upset when I answered the door, like you'd been crying," he asks as he reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.

"Ugh long story short, but my piece of shit father who's never been there for me suddenly needs a place to live, and really thought I would let him live with me. I just wanted to go for a walk and clear my head, and in my anger, I absentmindedly left them behind."

"Oooh, Daddy issues!" He speaks with a low growl, his voice dripping with suggestion, knowing girls who didn’t have a proper father figure growing up are far more likely to have a daddy kink than those who did. The cold water bottle makes contact with the palm of your hand as he takes a seat and hands it to you, but rolls to the floor when you don't grab it; your hands instead planting themselves firmly on the colorful-haired man's chest pushing him down on the couch, a knee on either side of his hips as you connect your lips to his. He parts his lips and moans into the kiss as his tongue slides against yours.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I should really go," you jump back breaking the kiss.

"Shhhh Babygirl, don't be sorry Daddy's got you," He whispers brushing his thumb over your lips, his other fingers caressing your cheek softly, as his free hand slips his phone into his pocket; because you won't be needing it and he has plans.

"Oh fuck," You practically moan as his words ignite a warmth in your abdomen, and you reconnect your lips once again.

"Bedroom?" He pulls back momentarily to suggest.

"Bedroom," you repeat with a nod of your head like you forgot the word ‘yes’.

On your way to the bedroom, he tangles his left hand in your hair using his grip on it to keep your face close to his and your mouths latched, the free hand of his tattooed arm swiftly undoing the buttons of our blousy top, and sliding it off your shoulders, your bra to follow.

Inside his room, he sinks down on the edge of his bed grabbing you by your jean-clad backside and pulling you close. With his lips dancing over the horizon of flesh and jean along your lower abdomen and his eyes burning into yours, he unzips them and begins tugging them down. Assisting him, you slip your thumbs into the waistband and shimmy your hips as you pull the tight fabric over your backside and down your thighs.

"Fuck, I wanna feel these thighs wrapped around my head, Babygirl," he breathes as he strokes them, softly at first, then rougher, squeezing as run his hands up and down there expanse.

“Mmmm, Yeah?”

“Yeah, let Daddy make you feel good, beautiful. Come sit on my face,” he says raking his pearly white teeth over his bottom lip as he begins to move up the bed.

You pull your panties down to meet your jeans, kicking them off completely as you crawl onto the bed and over the toned body of your new neighbor, settling a knee on either side of his head.

“Wait!” He exclaims, his warm breath cascading over your core, as he reaches into the pocket of his grey sweats, pulling out his phone. “I’ve been dying to get some use out of this playlist.” he smirks, as he presses play and sets the phone to his right on the nightstand, wrapping his arms around your thighs. The first song starts and you recognize it immediately as Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood. He locks eyes with you and flattens his tongue, giving you a long, slow, teasing lick. Moaning at the taste he grips your ass pulling you flush against his mouth as the lyrics start.

Take you like a drug

Taste you on my tongue

He delves his tongue deeper lapping at the wetness that’s been pooling since you first laid eyes on his V line.

“Mmm, Fuck,” you whine, bucking your hips against his mouth desperate for more friction, he takes notice gliding his tongue back up over your clit and sucking on it lightly as the music continues in the background.

And if you were my little girl

I’d do whatever I could do

I’d runaway and hide with you

I know you got daddy issues

Your hands find their way into his hair, gripping his brightly colored locks as you ride his face, rocking your hips back and forth along his tongue. As you feel your orgasm steadily approaching, you remove one of your hands from his hair and brace yourself on the headboard.

He slides a hand from your ass, down over his chiseled abs and into his sweatpants pulling his erection free, and begins stroking himself as his tongue continues to work against your clit.

“Ohhh… Fuck Daddy!” You moan in a shaky breath, gripping his hair tighter as you cum with your head thrown back and your thighs tightening around his head, as you ride it out.

“Mmmmm, good girl,” he says simply, his lips and chin glossed with your wetness as he pulls away.

You remove your legs from around his head and move back down his body to now straddle his hips. Leaning forward over his perfect body you slide your tongue between his slippery lips and into his mouth kissing him with fierce passion. He moans at your actions, breaking this kiss to speak.

“You. Like. Tasting. Yourself. Beautiful?” He asks, each word punctuated with the slip of his tongue into your eager mouth.

“Mmmm yes,” you pull back playfully to answer, teasing your tongue along his lips.

“Yes, what?” He prompts you, stretching his neck to capture your mouth again.

“Yes, Daddy,” you smile against his lips, before moving farther back down his body, kissing as you go before finally settling with his thighs viced between yours. Sitting back on his thighs you grasp his length admiring it as you begin to pump him. He’s only slightly longer than the others you’ve been with, but oh so thick, a prominent vein running from the base to just under the head, you stroke your thumb along it teasingly causing him to whimper in desperation.

“Stop teasing and ride me already,” he commands, bucking his hips off the bed and fucking into your hand.

You smile seductively as you raise your body up and hover teasingly over his erect length in your grasp. He slips into you as he bucks his hips a second time, and you sink down with a loud moan as you bottom out on his thick cock. Bouncing on his length you raise and lower your hips to the beat of the music a Demi Lovato song now playing.

Lucky for you I got all these daddy issues

What can I do?

I’m going crazy when I’m with you

Forget all the therapy that I’ve been through

Lucky for you

I’ve got all these daddy issues

All these daddy issues

Daddy issues uhhh daddy issues uhhh

“Mmmm fuck, look at you, tits bouncing as you ride my dick like a good little slut,” he groans, as he bites his lip and grips your waist.

Changing up your motions and pace you begin rocking quickly back and forth, the grasp of his strong hands and broad fingers guiding your movements. With your hands on his chest, you lean forward desperate for friction grinding your clit against his well-groomed, smooth, hairless pubic bone.

“So close,” you whine, the added sensation being exactly what you were after.

“Not so fast,” he smirks pushing you off of him. He walks to the edge of the mattress, and grabs your ankle, swiftly tugging you to the end of the bed and bending you over. Wasting no time he enters back into you and quickly settles into a rhythm. Reaching under you he snakes his hands up over your stomach to your chest, firmly clutching your breast as he pistons his hips against your flesh. You turn back to look at him, Lana Del Rey’s words now filling the room.

You can be the boss Daddy

You can be the boss

He grins intensely, moving one hand up from your breast and wrapping it firmly around your neck, causing you let out a moan and arch your back in response.

“Mmmm you like that?” He questions.

“Fuck, Daddy, yes harder!” You instruct, pushing back on his length. Squeezing tighter, he picks up the pace of his rhythm fucking you harder as the heat in your abdomen builds.

“I can feel this sloppy cunt tightening Babygirl, come on, cum for Daddy, I know you're close,” he breathes in your ear adding slightly more pressure to your neck. His words and actions take your over the edge, the lack of oxygen and blood flow magnifying the intensity of your orgasm.

Dropping his hand from your neck, he continues to thrust into you, sounds of your audible wetness filling the room as he chases after his own release. Within moments he’s pulling out of you and finishing on the small of your back. You lay still, dangling from the edge of the bed your body wracked with pleasure and try to catch your breath while he heads to the bathroom to fetch you a washcloth. He wipes your back haphazardly and throws the cloth to the floor before sinking down on the bed next to you.

“Well, that solved one of my problems,” you huff with a smile, still trying to catch your breath. “But I’m still locked out and I can’t remember my friend's number.”

“Come on let’s get dressed I think I can help with that too,” he says with a laugh.

You locate your strewn about clothes quickly dressing in them as he slips his grey sweats back on and heads into the kitchen, you follow. He digs around in a junk drawer by the microwave and pulls out a paper clip.

“Let’s get you home beautiful, you look like you could use a nap,” he smiles, guiding you to the door with a hand on your lower back, your shirt sticking to the remnants of the poorly cleaned and now drying cum.

Back across the hall he kneels in front of your door and straightens out the paper clip guiding it into the keyhole. In a few minutes of picking your lock, your door is open.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you knew how to do that to begin with?” You question as you step inside your apartment.

“What fun would that have been?” He grins with a slight laugh.

“Well thank you for everything ..uhh.. umm,” you stutter realizing you never got his name.

“Anytime,” he smirks. “The name’s Josh, by the way, Josh Dun.”

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