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crownofgildedlilies · 2 months

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oh, don't let your sunshine burn me!

in which: a son of hephaestus discovers a problem he can't solve. mainly, a daughter apollo who doesn't realize just how much her smiles hurt him.

pairing: leo valdez x daughter of apollo!reader

warnings: not proof read, slight cursing (otherwise, n/a)

tropes: friends to lovers, fluff, pining

word count: 3k

notes: my inaugural fic post on this blog. how special. plz enjoy. feedback is much appreciated.

Leo Valdez was going to lose his mind.

Or maybe a limb. Maybe that would get your attention. He wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't that desperate for you to turn your focus to him.

Stupid Garrett from stupid Ares. Why did he have to go and nearly get his head chopped off by Clarisse while sparring, stealing his thunder?

He should have done more than let his finger slip while hammering away in bunker nine. An exciting injury would have earned the most prized reward of your attention, for sure.

"Are you sure she's too busy?" Leo asked Will for probably four times too many to be considered casual. The blond only rolled his eyes and shoved an icepack into Leo's chest, nearly knocking him back a step, snapping him from his far too obvious admiring of you.

Even from across the infirmary, three hours into your shift, you stole the wind from his lungs. He was convinced you were a favorite of Apollo's, what with the way you glowed and lit up every room you were in.

Which is how he ended up in his current predicament. Absolutely desperate for any hint of your sunshine smile sent in his direction.

"Positive. Now, get out." Will confirmed, checking things off on his clipboard. Leo figured he was probably recording basic information like the patient—himself—had all his limbs, both eyes, ten fingers, and was practically drooling at his half-sister. Leo darted another glance across the room to you, still diligently assessing moronic Garrett from Ares who had been brain dead enough to accept Clarisse's offer of sparring.

Why were you blushing so much?

Something awful and too familiar twisted in his stomach, and all Leo could hear was Piper's voice telling him that he better make his move on you soon, because you were too sweet and too pretty to remain single much longer.

"When's her break again?" Leo asked, ignoring the way Will tipped his head back and closed his eyes, like he was praying for the strength to not hit his patient while under his care.

"And you can't ask her yourself because...?" Will prompted, dragging out the final word and forcing Leo to snap his attention towards the son of Apollo, his jaw practically open in shock.

"Because then she'll know I'm totally into her!" Leo whisper-shouted, waving his hands around as if to emphasize his point.

"You come in here everyday with a new injury asking for her to fix you up." Will pointed out, voice flat. "If she hasn't figured it out yet, I'm not sure she will. You should probably just be direct and ask her out."

Leo narrowed his eyes at Will, but on a rare miracle, he was at a loss for words. Maybe Will had a point. Leo was never exactly good at being subtle about his many, many, crushes, and if you hadn't realized he was hopelessly in love with you yet, then maybe he was safe from feeling the sting of your rejection.

"You're not going to talk to her, are you?" Will sighed, tilting his head slightly as he studied Leo, who, despite having already been given the magic remedy of an ice pack, remained perched on the side of a cot used as a medic's bed.

Leo shook his head side-to-side so quickly Will was a blur of blond hair and orange t-shirt in front of him.

"No can do." Leo said solemnly. "She's miles out of my league. Not even I'm stupid enough to think I have a shot with her."

"Well, at least Garrett isn't as oblivious as you," Will shrugged, shooting Leo a pointed look he didn't understand. The ugly feeling was back in Leo's stomach as he darted his attention towards you and the gods-damned son of Ares.

You were laughing, and Leo wasn't the cause.

Jealousy flared up in him.

You, on the other hand, were completely ignorant to the conversation occurring on the opposite side of the infirmary, far too engrossed in charismatic Garrett from Ares who was retelling the story of how Clarisse had knocked him on his ass and sent him to get bandaged up.

For a child of the war god, he was surprisingly graceful in his defeat.

"Next time, at least bring a shield with you." You smiled at Garrett, checking off the final few items on your clipboard. No major injuries towards his limbs, nor his ten fingers, neither of his eyes had been affected, and he was able to hold a proper conversation with you. "Otherwise I've got nothing else for you. Just an order to take the rest of the day easy."

"I can manage that," Garrett relented, which, for a demigod, was a pretty big ask. Taking it easy was never really an option when one of your parents was a god or goddess. "Hey, any particular reason Valdez is looking at me like he's going to send one of his inventions after me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to act casual as you turned around slightly, finding that Leo had in fact found his way into the infirmary and in fact was staring at Garrett like he might make a good snack for Festus.

You had been starting to worry, thinking that maybe he wasn't going to show up that day.

"Dunno," You shrugged, ducking your face into your clipboard so you didn't have to look at Leo, or Garrett, or Will—who was sending you a look that was both pointed and annoyed at the same time. "But you're set to go."

"Perfect," Garrett jumped off of the examination bed, acting like he hadn't been carried in by two of his half-brothers, a sly grin on his face. "You sure that's not jealousy on Valdez's face?"

"What? Why would Leo be jealous?" You were ashamed to admit you stumbled over your words, your face turning a vibrant shade of red, as you considered the implication of Garrett's words. That Leo might have been into you, enough that just the sight of you talking to Garrett might have been enough to turn his mood sour. "We're just friends."

"Sure," Garrett grinned wickedly, the kind of grin only children of Ares could ever create. The kind that told he totally didn't believe her rushed dismissal of his words. "All I want is an invitation to the wedding. Talk to you later!"

Garrett darted off before you could swat at him with your clipboard, your face flushed with embarrassment. Gods, were you really that obvious in your crush on Leo?

Sure, he came into the infirmary just about every day you were working, with some minor injury or another for you to tend to. And maybe you took a little longer to heal him than you did when Percy or the Stolls came in, were a little sweeter, but were you so transparent that even Garrett from Ares knew what you felt?

"For the love of all the gods and goddesses, would you please just go talk to him?" Will grumbled, borderline exhausted, as he appeared at your side. You jumped, nearly lost in thought, and narrowed your sunshine stare at your half-brother. "He won't leave until he gets the chance to brag to you about his latest made-up injury."

You didn't have to ask who Will was talking about. Leo was still watching you from across the room, rather impatiently. He'd managed to find a few loose bolts and washers and was currently inventing something you couldn't comprehend while he stared very pointedly at the ground by your feet, having averted his stare the moment you darted yours in his direction.

"Shut up," You mumbled to Will, but regardless you dashed off across the room with what felt like permission to engage in your favorite part of the day.

You had received Apollo's gifts of healing, not his poetic words. And every day you cursed that fact, because never could you put into words just how much being around Leo Valdez made you feel centered within yourself. It was like his very personality gave you permission to the version of you that was nearly lost to time and circumstance and the tragedy of being a Greek hero.

"What's the problem today?" You grinned, the smile your half-siblings claimed shined brightest in the camp plastered on your face almost of its own accord as you stood before Leo.

"My hand, Doc." He sighed, playing along and holding up his left hand while the right shoved the ice pack Will had already given him behind his back. You snorted a laugh, and Leo's grin broke out from the solemn facade he had attempted. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again if you don't help me."

"Well there's only one solution," You nodded, pretending to read something off of your clipboard—which was still filled out with Garrett's information.

"Anything you recommend is good with me," Leo leaned closer, trying to read over the edge of your clipboard, which you quickly tugged close to your body.

"Right, I've got it." You grinned, dropping your face closer to his, almost like your heart was in control of your body instead of your mind. Leo nodded, and you would have sworn you saw his gaze shoot to your lips for the briefest of seconds. "Amputation. Mr. Valdez, I'm afraid we're going to have to take your hand off."

"But, that's my pretty hand!" Leo protested, playing into your joke quickly. You couldn't even pretend to hide your smile, laughter falling past your lips just as easily as breathing.

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do for you." You shook your head, grinning widely at Leo, who was—for a guy with ADHD as severe as him—giving you his full attention. "You're free to go. I'll see you and your pretty hand at the bonfire tonight."

"Glad to hear you agree that my hand is pretty." Leo slid off of the examination bed with a grin that had you flushing and looking over the contents of your clipboard simply for something to do with your eyes. "See you later, Doc."

Waving, you sent Leo off.

Over the course of the following week, Leo had found himself at the infirmary—during your shifts only—six more times.

Three smashed fingers from equipment you knew for a fact he knew how to handle properly. One cut to his arm from a piece of scrap metal. A paper cut.

On Thursday, he came in complaining of a serious burn.

"Doc, you'll never believe it. My whole arm caught on fire."

Will hadn't let him into the infirmary, claiming that Leo needed a better lie than that to come visit, since everyone already knew he was fireproof.

Leo came back fifteen minutes later with a second paper cut. Will took his break an hour early, claiming he needed to for his sanity.

But then you didn't so much as catch a glimpse of Leo for four straight days.

You felt more than a little pathetic, jumping every time the door to the infirmary opened, hoping against hope that it would be the curly haired son of Hephaestus you so adored.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the door opened and you couldn't stop the way your body instinctively twisted around from where you words repacking first aide kits that were left in various locations around camp.

But it wasn't Leo standing at the door, but Piper.

You weren't the closest with her, but you were friendly. So you didn't think she was there for you, at first, until you saw her talking to your half-sister Stella and pointing towards you.

"Hey," Piper's voice had an edge of seriousness to it that snagged your attention, halting your efforts of resupplying. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."

"Okay...?" You trailed off, not sure what she could have needed from you.

"Would you be willing to talk to Leo for me? He's in Bunker Nine, convinced he's going to make some big breakthrough on whatever machine he's currently working on." Piper explained and you nodded slowly, not seeing the problem. From your conversations with Leo, he always seemed to be in the middle of some big breakthrough. "He hadn't come out in four days. It's not healthy."

You frowned, trying to recall the last time you'd seen Leo at any of the meals. And when your mind came up blank, you settled on your answer to Piper's request.

"I'll talk to him."

You had never been to Bunker Nine.

As much as you talked to Leo, pretty much everyday, it was always in yours and shared spaces. The infirmary, mainly, but every once in a while at the dining pavilion or at the camp bonfires.

But you could barely focus on any one thing in the bunker. Half-finished projects littered the space, along with countless tools, scraps, and blueprints tacked haphazardly against walls and bulletin boards.

Since it was nearly dinner, the bunker had cleared out of all but one of its occupants. Perched over a table, working so diligently he didn't hear you approach, was none other than Leo Valdez.

Without thinking of the consequences, you dropped the canvas bag you had brought with you on his worktable, startling him so much he jumped in surprise and nearly sent his latest project clattering to the floor.

"Gods!" He shouted, wide eyed and hand pressed to his chest as if he could physically calm his racing heart. You couldn't help the way you grinned, a little lopsided, wholly endeared by him. "Sorry, were you trying to kill me? Because, if so, mission almost accomplished!"

"Actually, the opposite." With a confidence you didn't really possess, you leaned against the worktable next to him and started pulling tinfoil wrapped sandwiches out of the bag. "Everyone's convinced I'm your appointed caretaker, since you don't seem to do it yourself."

Leo had the good sense to seem chastised by the glare you sent him following your words. It wasn't like he could deny it, anyways. How many times had he ended up on your patient list?

"Did Jason put you up to this?"

"Piper," You confirmed, pushing a wrapped sandwich across the table towards him. Next out of the bag was a metal bowl, the bottom slightly charred and filled with paper scraps and twigs. "Light this for me, will you, please?"

"Well, when you ask so nicely," Leo grinned, a ball of flame forming in his palm and igniting the twigs in the bowl. Without needing to be told, Leo unwrapped his sandwich and ripped off a chunk to throw into the flames.

You copied his actions. And if you made a wordless prayer to Aphrodite to ask for a little assistance, that was no one's business but your own.

"I've..." You hesitated, darting a glance to Leo before focusing on your sandwich, biting down your declaration that you've missed him in the infirmary. He had already started eating, only further proof that he had been skipping meals while holed up in the bunker. "How come you're always getting hurt, Mr. Clumsy? I thought children of Hephaestus are supposed to be good in the forges."

You would have sworn you saw Leo blush, but your attention quickly darted away from him the moment he lifted his eyes to yours.

"You sure you wanna know the truth?" Leo asked his voice a kind of serious that was almost out of character for him. You nodded, slowly, and forced yourself to meet his eye. "I've been getting hurt on purpose."

"Leo Valdez!"

"Wait, let me finish!" Leo held up his hands to defend himself from your words and your glare, the healer in your absolutely hated the fact that Leo would have done anything to intentionally cause himself harm. "I did it because I got an excuse to see you."

"What?" For a child of Apollo, you sure didn't have a way with words. Distantly, you cursed the fact that you were a gifted healer and not a poet, because you knew what Leo's words meant and yet you couldn't get your own to function. "Wait—"

"I know this sounds stupid," Leo dragged a hand through the dark, disheveled curls atop his head. "But Will wouldn't let me in to see you if I wasn't hurt! So I... maybe... lied, a little bit."

You frowned, in thought. Thinking back, you couldn't remember Leo ever actually being hurt beyond the occasional cut or scrap. You'd always been so caught up in him and his visits to notice.

"I swear I'm not weird. I just really like you." Leo winced, no doubt taking your silence in a bad way.

And you weren't one of Apollo's poetically gifted children, so you simply pressed your lips against his and hoped he got the message.

It was a short kiss, a good first kiss, you noted with no small satisfaction. Your lips tingled and your fingertips were buzzing—and Leo looked like he had just won the lottery.

"You're sweet," You smiled, a thousand watt one that maybe Leo adored as much as your half-siblings did, and nudged his sandwich closer to him. "But you're banned from the infirmary unless you're actively dying. And for real!"

Leo paused, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to create a scenario that would get him past the barrier of your totally official and absolutely within rules ban.

"I can make that happen,"

"No, you can't," You tried to shoot him a discouraging look, but your smile was far too wide to deal any real damage. "Or else I'll go to tonight's bonfire with someone else."

"Nope!" He shook his head quickly, hair bouncing with the movement and expression light with an impish grin. "You kissed me, Doc. You're stuck with me, now."

You smiled, silently deciding you wouldn't mind being stuck with him.

"That's what I thought."

Leaning over to press a second kiss to the corner of his lips, you pretended not to notice the sparks dancing in his curls.

#leo valdez #pjo #rays of sun #Leo Valdez fic #Leo Valdez x reader #Leo Valdez fanfiction #pjo x reader

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artificialbreezy · 1 month

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okay so @as-above-so-below1000 sent me a post and some thoughts and it had triggered some Noah brain rot. plz enjoy these thoughts. this is fucking filthy, sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

NSFW under the cut ◡̈

Noah who doesn’t like to think about how you come undone on any toy when he’s gone, because only he’s supposed to make you do that. so when you mention you need to get off to him a day before he gets home, he’s kinda fuming. he’s gonna play it cool though. he’ll ask to see how well the dildo fits in your cunt just because he “misses the way you take him”. but really he’s scheming. he’s planning a way to show you, he’s better than the toys you have.

Noah who texts you when he leaves the airport to be naked in bed when he gets home, because he has to have a taste.

Noah who walks in his room to see that stupid fucking toy on the nightstand where you left it last night and all plans go out the window, because now he’s just mad. so ya know what he does? he grabs the dildo off the nightstand before setting himself between your legs.

Noah who tells you to close your eyes, before he’s running the toy through your folds just so he can hear the whine fall from your mouth. “What’s wrong bunny? Thought you loved this thing?”

Noah who teases your hole, until you’re begging him to do something. “I usually like hearing you beg for me, but I think this is just slutty. Don’t you? begging me to fuck you with a toy, when i’m right here. it’s a shame really, i was real excited to feel you squeezing me.”

Noah who finally pushes the toy inside you, only to hear you mumble “not enough.” Just to flip you over, and shove your head into the pillow.

Noah who teases your asshole with this thumb while he’s slowly fucking you with your dildo.

Noah who gets you so close to the edge, just to push his thumb into your tight hole and hear you moan out “oh god.”

Noah who smirks down at you, “that’s it, baby. why don’t you pray to your god. why don’t you beg him for forgiveness?”

#noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian headcanons #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian #noahsebastiann #bad omens smut #bad omens blurb #bad omens headcanons #bad omens fanfiction

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tkaulitzlvr · 9 months

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Plz write about reader accidentally kissing someone else. Thanks in advance!

MISTAKE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: a fan puts you in an awkward situation, tom getting the complete wrong idea, putting a divide between the two of you as you try to explain yourself, tom thinking of a different way to resolve this.

content: angst, angry sex, a little fluff at the end.

a/n: thank you for the request i hope u like it, i had sm fun writing this!! sorry it’s so long i got carried away…😭😭

“oh my god i love you so much!” another fan says, tears streaming down her face as i sign her autograph, sending her a warm smile and moving onto the next.

tom isn’t too far behind me, signing other fans autographs and taking pictures with the rest of the band, this being the standard before and after every event. we had just wrapped up the 2008 EMAs, getting ready to leave, not before acknowledging his fans. with me being his long term girlfriend, aside from the occasional fan who would hate on me purely out of spite, i had become quite popular amongst his fanbase, signing autographs and interacting with them turning into a regular occurrence, but i didn’t mind it. these people had given tom the success he has, and i couldnt thank them enough, taking pictures and speaking with them, even if it is only for a few seconds, being the least i could do.

and to say that tom likes how much his fans adore me is an understatement. he treats me like his prized possession, his face beaming with pride as i speak with every fan i can, occasionally turning around to see him smiling back at me, so much love in his eyes that my heart could melt at the sight. he wore two headbands, one black and the other grey, his long dreads tied up in a ponytail, losing his usual flat cap and opting for a dark brown t-shirt that read ‘tokio hotel’.

i however, wore a long black dress, the bottom split at one side, the material hugging my figure perfectly, paired with some black heels, my hair straightened and makeup caked on, excessive amounts of jewellery around my body. i was surprised tom hadn’t made any moves on me the whole night, the public eye never really stopping the PDA from him. he didn’t shy away from telling me how beautiful i looked before we arrived, promising that he would show me once we were back at the hotel room, and i knew exactly what that would entail, the details better left unsaid.

my body begins to feel slightly tired after being at the award show for hours, the amount of fans that i’m yet to speak to not going down. i approach the next one, already a little weirded out. he looks around my age, maybe a few years older, a strange smirk on his face as his eyes rake down my body, undressing me with his gaze. i already feel uncomfortable, unsure of what to say as his eyes stop at my cleavage, not even uttering a word.

“hey! how are you, is there anything that you want me to sign?” i eventually say, the guy quickly looking upwards, as if he hadn’t been checking out every inch of my body seconds before.

“can i get a picture?” he says simply, his tongue poking out as he slowly licks his lips, not breaking eye contact with me.

my insides are churning, the thought of him checking me out making me want to throw up, internally praying that tom could be beside me right now. i quickly look over, seeing him too immersed in signing fans autographs to glance in my direction, the high pitched sound of girls screaming his name leaving him a little distracted from me, understandably. i plaster a forced smile on my face, trying to be done with this guy as soon as possible so i can move away from him, already feeling super on edge.

“of course!” i say, moving closer to the barricade as he pulls out his phone.

he moves his hand, reaching it outwards as i assume he is going to put a friendly arm around my shoulder, not minding this as it’s something a lot of fans do. instead, his hand stretches towards my face, turning it so that it is facing him instead of the camera like it previously was, placing a kiss onto my lips before i can even register what is happening.

the second that i process another person’s lips are touching mine, a person that isn’t tom, i frantically pull away, my breathing fast and heavy as i quickly turn to face tom. he is already looking at me, having just witnessed the entire thing from a few metres away. he is pissed. his jaw clenched, eyes hooded, chest heaving up and down as he completely ignores the girls shoving paper and pens at him, begging for an autograph.

i ignore the guy, knowing that if i speak my mind to him in this moment, i’ll deal with a pretty big scandal. instead, i rush over to tom, tears clouding my vision, trying to push them back as i force a smile, walking over as he steps back from the fans, facing away from the crowd.

“we’re gonna talk about this once we get back. don’t think that you’re getting off the hook, what the actual fuck?” he whispers, his teeth gritted. “now you’re gonna act like everything is fine until this whole thing is over, yeah?”

“but tom i-” i begin, desperately trying to explain myself.

“i don’t wanna fucking hear it. you’ve done enough, don’t you think? now smile.” he mutters, quickly turning back around to the crowd, wrapping his arm around my waist and planting a kiss onto my cheek as if nothing has happened.

the fans go wild, screaming loudly, the paparazzi loving this, knowing that pictures of tom and i are something that the world goes literally crazy for. flashing lights blind my vision as i try to blink the tears away, doing so successfully, putting my emotions aside for the sake of tom’s career, desperate to get out of here so that i can explain myself, tom clearly getting the wrong idea.

“kiss her properly tom!” someone within the crowd of paparazzi shouts, tom flashing them all a smile, pecking my lips as the cameras go wild, taking advantage of the opportunity. i can tell that he is pissed from the way his lips touch mine, his hand around my waist, the other hanging loosely by his side, no love in the kiss. but he doesn’t let anyone else see that. to anybody else, it would look completely normal, like a couple with no problems, not as if tom had witnessed me kiss another guy with zero context. his hand grasps mine, interlocking our fingers, taking me over to an interviewer beckoning us over, this the part i am dreading most.

she smiles warmly at us, speaking into the microphone, tom still holding my hand, squeezing it slightly, this not to comfort me, but to remind me to act normal.

“so guys, how are you both? and, congratulations to you, tom, and the rest of tokio hotel for winning an award tonight!” she says, pointing the microphone to tom as he smiles before speaking into it.

“we’re doing great. it feels so crazy to win another award with the band, we couldn’t have done it without our fans, so thank you, all of you.” he says, smiling warmly at the camera as the interviewer takes the mic back.

“and, as tom’s girlfriend, how does it feel to be here with him tonight, and, i’m guessing there’s gonna be big celebrations later on!” she laughs, winking at me when saying the last part.

“yeah, it’s amazing. i feel so honoured to be here with him and the rest of the band tonight, i’m just so proud of how far he’s come, and i’m so thankful to be on this journey with him.” i nod, smiling and looking into his eyes as convincingly as i can, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

tom leans into the mic, the interviewer pointing it in his direction. “and to answer the second part of your question, i don’t think we’re gonna be doing much sleeping tonight.” he smirks, winking in my direction as i laugh lightly, smacking his arm and rolling my eyes playfully.

as angry at he is right now, he is good at not showing it as even i question if he is acting anymore, his affection so natural that it doesn’t seem forced.

the interview drags on for at least another ten minutes, asking questions about our relationship, to which we answer the best we can, appearing to convince the interviewer and crowd pretty well. she ends it by thanking us, wishing us a great night as we walk away, big smiles plastered on our faces as we head to take more pictures, paparazzi again demanding us to be as intimate as we can, tom and i obliging, followed by more interviews.

“tom can you please just listen to me-”

“i don’t want to hear it, just get in the car.” he says, opening the door for me and climbing in, sitting silently with his arms crossed as the car falls silent, the driver taking us to the hotel room.

the entire ride home is silent, tom completely ignoring me as he won’t touch or even look at me, his head resting on the window, jaw clenched and his entire expression angry. i try to hold his hand, moving my fingers and attempting to intertwine them with his, but he shrugs them off, refusing to say a word.

we stop outside the hotel, the driver opening the door for us as we both say our thanks, stepping out of the car. tom walks ahead, not waiting for me as i struggle to keep up, only catching up once he buzzes for the elevator, both of us stepping inside, tom standing on the other side, looking downwards at his feet and refusing to make eye contact with me.

“baby please just let me talk, i can explain.” i plead, my voice a little shaky, slightly scared of his ability to so naturally act like he is in love with me in front of the cameras, but once we are alone, he can turn from caring to cold in seconds.

“what, you can explain kissing another guy right in front of me? can you fucking hear yourself?” he scoffs, tutting as the elevator opens. his hands are in his pockets as he lifts his body up from where it was slouched against the wall of the elevator, walking ahead of me once again, using his key card and entering the hotel room, finding the rest of the band already there. they had left earlier than us, already finished with their interviews as the band had done their collective ones earlier on, tom and i only needing to stay to do our separate ones.

“hey guys.” tom says, saying nothing more as he walks into our shared bedroom.

bill furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and i send him a small smile, mouthing ‘i’ll explain later’, before following where tom had gone. the bedroom is dark, tom not in there, but the balcony doors are open. i can make out his figure through the darkness, smoke coming from his mouth as i look towards the lit cigarette in his hands, hesitantly joining him on the balcony which overlooks the city.

he takes a quick glance at me, looking forwards and ignoring me as he had since the incident had happened.

“you gonna keep ignoring me? or can i explain?” i ask, trying to stand a little closer to him, testing what my boundaries are.

“nothing for you to explain.” he mutters, bringing the cig to his lips, inhaling and watching the smoke exit his mouth.

the cold breeze of the night causes me to shiver a little, my strapless dress not helping me out as i rub my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to warm myself up.

“i didn’t fucking kiss him. jesus christ do you think i’m some slut who can’t contain myself? i haven’t cheated on you throughout our whole relationship, tom, and i definitely wouldn’t do it in public like that.” i sigh, the tears already beginning to form in my eyes as i can see that he isn’t in any position to hear me out, his mind already set on what he thinks he has witnessed.

“what so i was fucking hallucinating when i saw him kiss you?” he scoffs sarcastically, putting his cig out and looking into my eyes for the first time, his full of rage, a lit fuse ready to blow. he shakes his head when i stay silent, walking back into the bedroom.

i don’t give up yet, quickly following him into the room.

“he asked for a picture. i wasn’t even looking at him, i was looking into his camera. he grabbed my face and kissed me. he forced me onto him, and i pulled away. so can you stop being so fucking stubborn, ‘cause i’m tired of this shit. i shouldn’t feel bad when you’re too childish to hear me out! so fucking grow a pair and-”

my heated rambling is quickly cut off my tom firmly pressing his lips against mine, walking me backwards until my back harshly collides with the wall, a gasp leaving my mouth as i do so.

“fucking shut up.” he mumbles against my lips, his hand reaching behind me as he quickly pulls the zipper of my dress down, pushing his tongue into my mouth and kissing me with so much hunger that it is hard to remember why we were even arguing in the first place.

but the harshness of his kiss tells me that he is still irritated, taking out his anger on me in the best way possible, his hands reaching for the top of my dress, pulling it down my frame without removing his lips from mine, letting it hit the floor, leaving me in only my black lace panties.

he moves his hands to underneath my thighs, lifting them up in one smooth motion, wrapping them tightly around his waist as he walks us to the bed, his tongue still exploring my mouth, only fuelling the need to feel him inside me, the burning in between my thighs getting harder and harder to ignore.

he lays me on the bed, wasting no time in climbing on top of me, my hands scrambling to removing his t-shirt, lifting the material up and over his head. he moves his knee in between my thighs as he unbuckles his belt, the hunger mixed with pure lust causing me to grind on him, brushing perfectly against my clit as i sigh out in pleasure. tom has his tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth, almost mocking my desperation.

“getting off on my knee, you’re that needy? baby you need to use your words. i’ll give you what you want, you just need to say the word.” he teases, pulling his pants down and throwing them somewhere on the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, our underwear now the only thing separating us.

he climbs back on top of me, moving his knee as i whine slightly, a little frustrated at the loss of contact. he buries his head in the crook of my neck, biting at the skin harshly, soothing the slight pain with his tongue after, sending a chill down my body, my breathing becoming erratic as he begins to grind down on me, knowing exactly how to tease me.

“you know what you want.” he whispers against the skin of my neck, before carrying on placing slow and wet kisses there, knowing he will leave marks afterwards. “just say it. say what you want.”

i feel him smile against me, enjoying the way i wither beneath him, completely at his mercy, so desperate to feel his dick inside me.

“i need you…inside me.” i breathe out, my fingers moving to the inside of his boxers, fiddling with the waistband as i just want them off, tired of his teasing.

“was that so hard?” he asks, kissing me roughly as he moves my hands away, tugging his boxers down and moving to my panties, pulling his lips away from me and using his teeth to pull them down a little, loving the way my breath hitches in my throat when he does this. he replaces his mouth with his hands, swiftly taking my panties off, leaving us both naked.

“don’t think i’m going easy on you. i’m still pissed about earlier.” he begins, positioning his tip at my entrance. “i just knew i’d be able to get you all worked up doing this.”

he stops, looking into my eyes as our faces are inches apart, before moving into me, stretching my walls as he gives me no time to adjust, bottoming out inside me and almost completely pulling out, snapping his hips once again.

“fuck- too much.” i whine, the pain overtaking the pleasure as i squeeze his bicep, my eyes watering as my teeth sink into my bottom lip.

“i thought you wanted this.” he taunts, slowly moving out of me again, before thrusting into me again, a restrained groan escaping his mouth. “can you not take it, hm?”

all i can do is moan in response, trying to caress his chest as he begins a fast rhythm, showing no remorse as he moves in and out of me at a rapid pace.

“mm, no touching.” he says, taking both my arms and placing them above my head, using one hand to hold them in place, whilst the other begins to toy with my clit, the pain quickly subsiding as i am lost in pure ecstasy.

his tip brushes over my g-spot, a loud moan emitting from my parted lips, my eyes screwing shut, unable to take the pleasure as it hits me faster than ever.

“oh my god, there…right there, please tom!” i cry out, biting my lip to try and contain my moans, remembering that the rest of the band are right down the hall, not wanting them to hear any of this.

“here?” he teases, angling himself so that he isn’t just brushing over the spot, his tip is directly hitting it over and over again, my release fast approaching.

“that guy…” he begins, pressing his hand on my lower stomach, the print of his dick moving in and out of me now visible. “he couldn’t fuck you like this. only i can, mhm? say it.”

i am so lost in pleasure that i don’t even register what he is saying, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, legs going numb as they instinctively wrap around his waist, bringing him closer into me, allowing him to drill into me even deeper with each thrust, hitting angles that i had never felt before. i don’t comprehend his words until i feel his thumb touch my bottom lip, dragging downwards until it releases with a pop.

“fucking say it.” he demands, grunting lowly and moving in and out of me even harder, my legs feeling a dull ache between them as the knot in my stomach only tightens, my release fast approaching.

“only- fuck! only you can do this.” i manage to breathe out, my words so incoherent that they can barely be made out, so lost in pleasure that i am beyond the point of caring.

“i’m close baby.” tom says, connecting his lips with mine once again, our mouths sloppily colliding as small moans are muffled within the kiss. i can’t even tell him that i am close too, but the way i clench around him gives him enough of an idea.

his dick twitches inside of me as he pulls away, his mouth hanging open whilst his head falls back, a choked moan escaping his mouth as i feel his cum coat my walls, this triggering my own release. my ability to speak is quickly lost, a high pitched moan leaving my mouth as i let my release take over, my vision clouding up as the pleasure becomes too much, tom clearly not looking to stop as he chases another release, my eyes squeezing shut as i quickly become overstimulated.

“too much…” i whine. “cant take it.”

“should’ve thought about that before you let me catch another guy kissing you. i’m not stopping till you fucking understand only i can do that.” he replies, flipping us over so that i am on top.

“ride.” he says, placing his hands on my hips as mine rest on his shoulders, his lips moving to my collarbone.

“i can’t.” i sigh, tears clouding my vision as i fall onto him, completely exhausted. my legs ache, my inner thighs sore from him not letting me adjust, my throat dry from the sounds he made leave my mouth.

he sighs, guilt taking over his expression as he begins to feel a little bad, his hands reaching to rub my back.

“you did so good schatz.” he says, pulling out of me as i whine from the loss of contact, my body hot, forehead glistening with sweat. “you okay? did i go too hard. sorry, i was just angry, if i took it too far you have to-”

i cut him off by gently pecking his lips, reassuring him. “it’s fine, tom, i’m okay. i’m really sorry about tonight.”

“it wasn’t your fault. sorry i was such an ass about it.” he apologises, tracing random shapes along my back. “i think it’s best i don’t leave your side in public from now on, yeah? i swear to god if i see that asshole again-”

“don’t worry about it, it’s okay now.” i laugh, taking his hand and playing with his fingers, my breathing slowing down. “i don’t think he’ll be coming to anymore events that we’re at, you should’ve seen how humiliated he was when i pulled away. fucking loser, i don’t understand what else he wanted me to do.”

he chuckles slightly, tightening his hold on me and planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

he takes my hand, laughing at the way my legs shake as i struggle to walk, taking me towards the bathroom and running me a bath, showering me with kisses for the rest of the night.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #tomkaulitz #bill kaulitz

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subarashiihibi · 23 days

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL ANGEL WIFE IZAYA ORIHARA!!!!!!! 🥰😘👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨😭😎🔥🫶🩷

i can't quite put into words what exactly izaya has meant to me over the past 8 years. one, it sounds really corny and i go off into at least 30 different tangents about all the little things that make him so endearing to me, but also i just dont really know how to sound eloquent and stuff. that being said, a lot of the person i am today is (for better or for worse) thanks to izaya, so i think if i leave it at that you can at least get it a little bit. ^_^

i was really excited to set this year's display up. i changed the room i used this time, since i got a new desk, and it was...kind of a challenge at first, but after moving around a bunch of furniture and whatnot, i made it work...!

i had to forego putting up a few other things... namely the rest of my bromides and postcards, but also all my shikishi. i need to invest in some way to display them... i also had two(!!) dakimakura... i had to leave out this year. </3 and the cardboard cutout i made when i was 16. 😭

as usual, i have a lot of stuff to say about this entire thing and the stuff around it, so i... will leave my rambling under the cut. (^□^)

my god putting this thing together was hell. i said 'challenge' earlier no this shit was like a fucking war omfg. the clear files kept falling i was miserable and praying to god (im not even religious). and then i had to tape behind the big izaya balloon poster cause it's covering my doorway and it kept getting pulled back to the door...? and it looked stupid. 🤦‍♂️ i wasn't originally gonna put the tables in here either. i really wanted to be able to fit the bed sheets on the walls. but i couldn't... and i needed more room to put the pillows and stuff, so it ended up working out perfectly.

(the only reason i didn't want to use tables was cause i didn't want something covering up izaya's sexy exposed feet in the china poster... 😟)

i was (finally) gonna get a cake this year, but after having the stress of two exams back to back this week and exams next week, i...was too exhausted lol. hopefully next year i won't have an awful overnight job or school making me miserable. (as if i'm not still gonna be a student next year☠)

the amount of durarara merch that's come out the past few years has left me feeling so spoiled... i hope they do a mail order for the 20th anni merch... i want all the izaya stuff without the crazy markups from resellers online🤬

also plz don't judge my toploader deco skills too much... i am not very experienced... and i also don't have a lot of stickers to work with... 🥺

at any rate... at this exact time last year, i was suffering inside the confines of my local walmart... i was working overnight, and my break was at 12am, so as soon as it hit, i ran out to my car to excitedly celebrate the date changing to may 4th...!

and then during my lunch break, i drove to the whataburger next door and did another 10-pull on the izaya birthday kuji while in the drivethru.

i didn't realize this until i started taking stuff down in my room (this is my bedroom... i can't realistically keep two large tables in here and a poster covering my doorway. i had to crawl under the table just to get in and out. my knees still hurt.), but... i actually forgot something i wanted to include... my izaya lightstick... 💔💔💔 it's okay. i will live. i'm happy with my setup as a whole so i have no qualms with this. i just need to make sure i don't make the same mistake next year.

on a (slightly) unrelated note, yesterday (may 3) was the 19th birthday of my favorite album ever from my favorite band ever, fall out boy's from under the cork tree! i was so happy when i found out it's right before izaya's birthday cause fall out boy as a whole has so many izaya coded lyrics it's crazy. (btw, their debut album tttyg came out on the 6th as well...!)

and then tomorrow is cinco de mayo... it's not a coincidence... latina izaya truthers rise up...

anyways...! i'm finally learning how to draw properly. the reason i was always so miserable when i tried before was cause i never knew what i was doing. i didn't know where to start from. because...i didn't use references...so hopefully i can draw something cute for izaya's birthday next year. ^_^

that's all i have to say...! i woke up early this (yesterday) morning at 9am so i could be there at 10am when midnight hit in japan, and it's already 3am on the 4th, so i'm exhausted lol...

i was so excited seeing all the izaya bday fanart on twitter though. all the beautiful artists making beautiful art...

but i've spoken too much now. sorry. i'm going to spend the rest of my night listening to fall out boy before i eventually pass out. bye bye !!!! ^_^

#drrr!!#izaya #durarara!!#izaya orihara #durarara

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yuly · 1 year

Note

I desperately need a part 2 to the “that’s Hotchner to you, agent” plz plz plz 🙃

→ hi lovely anon! ask and you shall receive! cw: only fluff I promise!

Aaron Hotchner x genderal neutral reader

Always Aaron to You

Aaron is not a person who gives his trust easily. Once his trust has been broken, he clams up like a shell and prying that open might cost you a couple fingers. It's been a month now and you are willing to do whatever it takes for him to even look in your direction again. You miss your Aaron, your cuddle buddy, your confidant, your man. Because your words caused him this much pain and undid all the work the two of you have done to get him to express his feelings and be open, you have to think of a way to get him to see and hear just how sorry you are. With Valentine's Day coming up, you decide to use that to your advantage. If he throws it back in your face, you would take it in stride and leave him alone for good, this was your last shot.

Aaron is not a shopping fanatic and he's not the easiest to buy gifts for, you know that he does everything in life for the people he loves, so you decide to take a page out of his book and pray it goes well.

He comes home absolutely exhausted, the case was long, the jet lag severe, and the whole precinct annoyed him to no end. Worst of all, he had to spend yet another day pretending to be angry with you when all he wanted was for things to go back to normal. But his pride was hurt so he kept the act up. As he made his way to the doorstep, Aaron thought of all the non-work related things he needed to get done this weekend and he let out an exasperated sigh. Being a single father with his work schedule was exhausting, to say the least. Aaron hated asking for help, but he so desperately needed to get some rest this weekend. As he entered his apartment, he toyed with the idea of swallowing his pride and maybe asking Jessica for a favour.

Aaron was surprised to find Jack running about the apartment, stuffing a suitcase with clothes, toys and other odd bits.

“Dad! Guess what! I’m going to the Star Wars all-weekend exhibit with Jessica and cousins!!!!” Jack rambled excitedly, nearly foaming at the mouth. Apparently, Jessica was lucky enough to get her hands on some of the last tickets at the very last minute.

“I hope you don’t mind me whisking him away so last minute, I’m sorry if you had plans together or-”

“No, no, not at all actually. Thank you, Jess. It's been a long week I actually could use a weekend in, I owe you.” She smiled and swatted him away. Aaron wondered how his silent prayers of a quiet weekend were answered so quickly.

The next day, Aaron got an email reminding him of a golfing event he apparently booked in advance in the city. Aaron was confused, having no relocation of signing up, bet there was the receipt, from a month ago, under his name and credit card. He had actually been looking forward to going for a while now and must’ve forgotten about signing up. He spent the day catching up and flexing his skills in front of old friends. As he looked over the green hills and admired the view, Aaron got a text from Jessica, a photo of Jack and his cousins having an absolute ball at “stars wars land” as he called it, much to Jack’s dismay. He quickly saved the photo and sent her a thank you text back. At that moment, as the sun smiled down on him from its midday spot in the sky, Aaron felt content and happy, he felt lucky and again, he silently questioned how and why this weekend seemed to only get better. It was almost perfect, save for the small part of him that yearned for you.

When Aaron returned home that evening to find a bouquet of pink and white flowers, he was immediately on high alert. He cleared the area, and scanned the object carefully, only entering his home once he was certain everything was ok. He disarmed the alarm system and quietly closed the door behind him. He went through every square inch of the home, only relaxing when he successfully cleared the premises. He turned his attention to the bouquet of flowers, shades of pink and white staring back at him. He set them down on the kitchen counter, shifting his focus to the small card in the center.

“Agent Hotchner, please accept these as a token of my apology.

The pink hydrangeas symbolize my regret over my words and actions toward you. I hope the optimism of the lily of the valley can bring a rebirth in our friendship, and that the pink peonies bring you good luck, maybe they can be the angel that silently answers your prayers.

- Agent L/N.”

Aaron is taken aback, he honestly cannot remember a time in his life when he received flowers in such a loving gesture. It flusters him as he’s unsure how to place this emotion that was nagging at his chest. The last line makes the cogs in his brain spin and his heart race. Could it be possible that this weekend was your doing? Or was the sweet gesture getting to his head.

“Aaron, is everything ok?” He could hear the kids laughing in the background.

“I need to know where did you get the tickets from”

After a bit of resistance, Jessica confesses that you had gifted them the tickets. She insisted that it was simply a kind gesture and pleaded with Aaron not to say anything.

Within 15 minutes, Aaron is at your doorstep with the flowers in hand.

“Aar-Agent Hotchner?”

“You bought those tickets for Jack didn’t you?”

Your gaze shifts to your feet, unsure how to read his flat tone and fearing the worst.

“Yes.”

“And the golfing, you signed me up for it didn’t you?”

You look up to meet his eyes now, honey-coloured orbs that make your knees weak. His expression is difficult to read but his tone is soft.

“Thought I’d make it up to you, show you how sorry I am.”

His heart aches at how docile and unsure you sound. He lifts your chin up to meet your eyes once again and spares you a smile, “you are my light at the end of the tunnel, I hope you know that.”

A shy breaks across your face, the warmth of his words wrapping around you snugly.

“Hotch-”

“Aaron, always Aaron to you, Y/N. I love you”

You nuzzle into his chest, relieved that this long and drawn-out fight between you is finally over. Something clicks and the final piece of the puzzle has found its place as harmony is restored between you and Aaron.

“I love you, Aaron.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tagging:

@michasia24 @hizzielover @shamelessfangirl-3 @lilozg-123 @daily-evanstan @justarandommom @hausofwhores

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x gn reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner fluff #fluff and comfort #aaron hotchner x you #yuly writes!

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rainthespiritual · 2 months

Text

pt 1 , pt 2

Pre-death Tate Langdon fic PART TWO

btw some trigger warnings for the series as a whole are deffinetly: drug abuse, depression, suicide, and topics similar to that even if they don't show up in this specific part THEY WILL EVENTUALLY so I just want yall to be warned ty

TRIGGER WARNING : Tate langdon is a tw tbh and American horror story in general, smoking, talk of abusive dad and family slightly(it'll be talked abt more in other parts), angst, this part is more tame that the other parts will be, and alot of talk on bullying and angsty teen bullshit yk the drill

summery: Tate invited you to his house and talked to you about wanting to be friends again!

sorry if this is bad I didn't get to edit it cuz im using my phone PLZ ENJOY LETS GET INTO IT YUH

"Meet me here again tommorow, same time."

His words have been repeating in your head since yesterday. I mean yeah almost being caught by a teacher scared you shitless... and you didn't want it to happen again but it seemed almost worth it. the way he makes you feel is worth it. I mean this is the most validated you've felt in months.

You are pulled back to reality, to the smell of musty books and to the sound of the library, "___ you aren't listening again." sighing at your so called friend. you almost snap at her but she continues before you can knowing she now has your attention again. the sound of a distant clock ticking puts you more at ease as you try not to get too deppressed. The library is usually a nice safe space for you but sometimes you are followed, but you just have to deal with it. she goes on for a while before saying something that actually causes you to look up at her,

"Do you see that guy staring at me." she waves her head and your eyes meet Tates. he's sitting down at a distant table with a book in his hands but it's clear he isn't reading it. He smiles when you notice him and its also clear he isn't looking at your friend. He's staring at you.

"Yeah I do Heather.." you break eye contact with him hoping the hotness you feel in your cheeks isn't them turning red. Tate also stops looking in your direction and his attention goes to the book.

"I mean he's cute but he's all quiet and weird, ya know? ..kinda like you." she smiles as you sigh. you aren't quiet she just won't let you get a word in. You look back to the table where Tate was at but he is gone, you look around wondering if he was still in the library but there is no sign of him. not even the book he was reading, he must have taken it. it is common for kids at your school to take books to the tables and leave them if they weren't interested or more likely if they were just trying to seem busy. Tho it being frowned upon it happens quite alot.

"I've gotta go." You gather your things and start to stand.

"..where do you have to go?" Heather your friend scoffs slightly thinking you have nothing better to do.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom actually so.. And class is starting soon, see ya." with that you leave almost as fast as you did yesterday, mostly to avoid more questioning and bitching.

It almost being time to meet Tate you make your way to the bathroom you both were at yesterday. its pretty early but it's nice to have some thinking time. you stare at the door listening making sure no one is coming your way. you'd get questioned deffinetly, especially class starting so soon.. you fidget waiting for the bell to ring but it feels like time is going by way slower than it is. After thinking for a while and the bell not ringing still you decide to go in early, I mean maybe no one's in there? like Tate said almost no one ever comes this way. or maybe Tates there early too? maybe that's why he left the library so soon..

"Tate..?" you walk in slowly praying no one other than Tate is in this bathroom. You cautiously have your eyes closed just incase.

"___?.. You're early, hey." you open your eyes to find a nervous looking Tate.

"Hey yeah I am... is- is that okay, or?" you take a deep breath, the bathroom smells like harsh chemicals and it slightly irritates your nose. "Yeah no its fine, just surprised me is all." what he says makes you feel better and you look up to see him smiling at you, his eyes are red and watery and hes repeatedly wiping his nose.

"is there anything wrong?" you ask genuinely concerned. You seem to notice a wave of sadness on his face, or maybe it was just the smell of this bathroom you felt it irritating your eyes so maybe the same was happening to him? or maybe he was sad, he did tend to look sad. remembering all the small times you looked at him in the halls or at him if he was in the same room as you, he was sad. or atleast not smiling.

"Nothing at all, now that you're here." he walks closer to you, looking down at you.

"me? what do you mean?" you knew exactly what he meant, it just felt so surreal that this tall blonde good smelling guy that just so happened to go to school with you they you also used to be friends with could say this. I mean who would have known. all the boys you were used to interacting with never payed that kind of attention to you.

"I just mean I'm glad you're here. what else would I mean?" you smile again enjoying him saying these things. the validation you felt made you feel great, and he knew exactly what to do to make you feel special. not to say he was lying or anything, he wasn't. His confidence radiated off of him and he knew just what to say.

"well you could mean alot of things." he smirks at your response before pausing.

"Here, sit with me again." He climbs up on the sinks, making sure they aren't wet with his sleeve first. you notice a brownish red stain on his sleeve and decide whether ot not to bring it up. you choose to ignore it climbing up next to him. you take a deep breath noticing how your nose is now used to the harsh chemical smell that is all around the both of you.

"I'm surprised you came," he states looking into your eyes, a weird wave of guilt builds up in your stomach remembering how well you two got along. you truly regret not talking to him and hope you can make up for all the time you two have lost together.

" you know... I think about you all the time." he pushes a section of your hair behind your ear, admiring your face again.

you smile wider at him focusing on his pretty brown eyes. They are so dark and mysterious its not even funny. you also take notice of how dark his undereyes are, he must be tired.

"Is that why you were looking at me earlier? " you nervously smirk watching as he gets up off the counter to stand infront of you.

"we should go to my house." he places his arms on the counter making it so he is looking down on you slightly.

"your house?" you gulp.

"yep, my house," he nods, "we'd have fun I swear. I mean no one's even home." this catches you off guard. I mean a boy inviting you to his house was the last thing you expected to happen. Especially at school, a boy is not only inviting you to his house hes inviting you to ditch school with him at his house.. while no one's home.

"Sure, fuck it!" He leaves first making sure no one is around, you sneak out thanking God no one is around. and somehow you guys make it out without being caught. He leads you and you start to get nervous.

"is- is your house close or?" you gulp feeling a tad bit guilty. You've never missed school on purpose before.

"Actually I was thinking of going somewhere first.." he smirks and puts his hand around your shoulders.

"oh.. where?" the ideas of where he could bring you excited you slightly. The air was clear and the sun was hiding behind some clouds. its a gloomy day yet you were glad you were getting to spend it with Tate, something about him hypnotized you and made you feel ways you never felt before.

"The beach, trust me it's cool. especially on days like this.." he smirks more putting your hand in his, his warm soft touch made you blush. You never felt this way about anyone, he made you feel special.

You both walk in silence just enjoying eachothers company until you make it to the beach. You both sat in the sand admiring the ocean and the gloomy sky.

"do you play hookey alot?" you ask smiling already knowing he often does, you just didn't know what else to say.

"just when I get bored, or sad I guess.. I like to come here, y'know when everything gets too much? I come here.." he sighs looking off into the sea, his eyes are shining with the water and you can't help but to admire his beauty.

"No, I totally get that. I get sad alot too, thats why I go to the library. Usually no one follows me." he frowns looking away in the distance making you unable to look in his eyes anymore.

"y'know.. I don't get why you hang out with those assholes, it's clear they give zero shits about you. all they care about is themselves, even I can tell you that." you frown along with him, you want to tell him off but you can't bring yourself to because in the end... he's right. they don't and never cared about you. they never listen to you about your problems or your feelings. It's always about them them them.

"I know.. that's exactly how it is.. but I have no one else, I'm too scared to be alone." you open up a bit to him about how you feel hoping he will actually listen.

"you wouldn't be alone ___, I'd hang out with you. I mean trust me I'm cooler than all those bitches combined!" he laughs knowing he made you smile.

"then I guess I won't be hanging around them anymore. I got you now." you both smile walking the rest of the way to his house, talking about your past and goofing off.

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #ahs fandom #tate langdon #ahs tate langdon #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon fanfic #tate ahs #tate langdon slaying it ONCE AGAIN #i am cringe but i am free #angst #tate langdon being a sexy smexy baddie rjdjdjdjd #i might have a problem #tate langdon is flowing thru my veins #PLEASE GIVE ME REQUESTS OR SUGGESTIONS FOR HEADCANNONS AND FANFIC plz

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whispering-ways · 10 months

Text

☆・✷ physics problems (pt. 1) ✷・☆

☆ summary: you have a breakdown over your physics test scores and katsuki overhears you

☆ pairing: bakugo katsuki x (female implied) reader

☆ tags: f! masturbation, some cursing; minors do not interact plz!

☆ notes: orange text is kastuki's text, all characters are aged up to be 18+, this and all other fanfics will be up on my AO3 (whisperingways)

You didn’t know what else you could possibly do. You tried your best but it seemed like you were never going to get physics. You’d done everything; reviewed notes, studied practice problems, watched videos, but nothing seemed to improve your test scores. As you took your test, you hoped and prayed that you got at least a 75 on it, but in the back of your mind, you knew that was wishful thinking as you’d blanked on at least 6 out of the 20 questions.

A couple of days later, Mr. Aizawa handed back the tests at the end of class and as he was giving them back, he made a point to place yours upside on your test. “Fuck, that can’t be good,” you thought scared to turn it over. You couldn’t even muster the courage to look at it during class, so you stuffed the paper into your backpack and returned to your room.

After winding down for a bit, you decided you needed to bite the bullet and look at your score. You pulled out the crumpled sheet of paper from your bag and slowly turned it over. “Fucking hell, a 48?! I literally studied for 15 hours for this exam, what more could I have done?” you thought, feeling absolutely defeated. You threw the paper to the ground, trying not to think of the score. But it seemed like you could never escape it after you heard a chime from your phone, notifying you that the grade had just been put into the grade book.

Tears started to well up in your eyes, but you did your best to hold them back. There was no way you were going to cry; it was Friday and all you wanted to do was relax and forget all about physics. You headed to the kitchen to make a bowl of spicy ramen, your favorite, in order to pick your mood up. But just like all the studying you’d done for your test, this didn’t help improve the situation either. You put extra hot sauce in your ramen, hoping the spice would distract you, and you went to the living room to eat.

Luckily the room was empty, so you’d be able to have some peace and quiet with your ramen. You scrolled through TikTok a bit, but something about being alone and the silence just made the thoughts in your head louder and you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. You just felt so defeated. There truly felt there was nothing else you could possibly do and your scores just kept getting lower and lower.

You’d tried so many different study methods and resources that you weren’t even sure what you could even try next. You were crying for about 10 minutes before Izuku, who had come to the kitchen to make himself a quick snack, finally heard you and came into the living room to comfort you.

He tried his best to assure you, but as kind and compassionate as he was, it still didn’t make you feel better because, in reality, you were still failing physics. There was no amount of comforting pep talks that could change your grade. With a sigh, you say, “Thank you Izuku for trying to cheer me up, but I think I’m just gonna head to bed and maybe try to study tomorrow.” You wipe the tears from your eyes and get up from the couch.

“No problem, just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you out okay? Just text me,” Izuku said giving you a hug. You walked off, head looking at the ground so no one would see how red your eyes were. You just wanted to get to your room as quickly as possible and attract no attention; you didn’t want to talk to anyone. You were in such a rush, you didn’t even realize how Katsuki was standing in the kitchen.

You came back to your room and flopped on your bed, crying into your pillow, when you heard your phone buzzing, You reached underneath your pillow to grab your phone and to your surprise, Katsuki had sent you a text.

Hey nerd, I heard what you were telling Izuku that you’re in the shit with physics. You doing okay?

God, you didn’t even know Katsuki had heard you. “I must’ve sounded like such a wimp for breaking down like that,” you thought as embarrassment washed over you. You and Katsuki weren’t the best of friends, but you both got along and you enjoyed hanging out with him, even though he could be rude at times.You saw a softer side in him within his harshly phrased words and you liked the banter between you both. In all honesty, you had a little bit of a crush on him, so hearing that he heard you break down was nothing short of mortifying. You were going to ignore it and text him later but you’d already read the message and didn’t want to come off dismissive, so you sent him a reply.

To be honest no, at this rate I’m going to absolutely flunk physics and I’m not even sure what to do anymore :(

You saw that Katsuki read your message immediately, but it took him a while for him to send his text.

Well then you want to come over sometime to study? I do well on the tests so I can tutor you tomorrow if you’re free.

The offer surprised you; you never thought he’d ever willingly want to tutor you. I mean, he found it annoying to tutor Denki, so you had no idea why he’d offer to tutor you too. However, he wasn’t lying. You saw that he never made any lower than a 95 on all the tests so far, so maybe studying with him would help. I mean what did you have to lose?

Sure that works, thank you so much! :) What time and where?

How about 3pm in my room? That way if we need to study late you dont have to fucking walk too far in the dark.

Ok sounds good :) thanks again I really appreciate it!

No problem its a fucking date then

“It’s a date then?” you repeated to yourself. “What does that mean? Like an actual date or is that just his wording?” starting to overthink on what Katsuki could have meant. He couldn’t have actually meant a date right? “God, just another thing to think about now, but a lot better than thinking about tests and physics.”

Now that you had a moment by yourself you were really able to wrap your head around tomorrow’s plans. You weren’t gonna lie, the thought of being in Katsuki’s room and so close to him definitely got some gears turning. You knew that tomorrow was just going to be purely focusing on physics, but a part of you wished for more.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to daydream. “I wish he’d just reward me with a kiss or something every time I got an answer right. Fuck, or run his hands down my thighs. I just want his hands or lips on me; I’ll take either one,” you thought with a longing sigh. Your fingers slowly slipped down to your pussy as you kept thinking about Katsuki.

You started rubbing your clit to the thought of him eating you out, one of your biggest fantasies. You imagined what it’d be like if he was here on your bed with you between your legs.

You slowly started slipping two fingers into yourself. You imagined his head buried into your pussy, eating you out like it was his last meal. He’d spread your lips apart and run his tongue up and down your pussy, before stopping up at your clit to suck on it delicately.

As you kept pumping your fingers in and out, you pretended they were his long fingers instead, reaching deep inside of you. "Fuck...Katsuki~," you moaned as you went faster, getting closer to climaxing.

You tried to keep your moans and cries of his name as quiet as you could, but you couldn’t help it; it just felt too good. Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door, jolting you out of bed. You adjusted your shirt and put your shorts back on and rushed to the door. You opened the door and the color immediately left your face.

“Having fun in there?” Katsuki said with a wide grin on his face, leaning on the frame of your door. The color returned to your face, but you were completely red. You knew he had to have heard you; you were just hoping that he didn’t hear you call out his name.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was just...uhh...getting ready for bed,” you said, but his face showed no signs of him being convinced.

“Well, whatever you’re fucking doing in there, keep it down pretty girl; I can hear you outside your door,” he said with a smirk before pushing off your door frame. “Have a good night and see you tomorrow.” He walked off down the hallway and you closed your door, leaving you absolutely beet red as you climbed back into bed.

Fortunately, masturbating earlier had left you pretty tired. You hoped that Kastuki forgot all about the situation tomorrow morning or at the least never mentioned it ever in his life. You could barely keep your eyes open at this point, so you quickly set your alarm and fell asleep soon after.

155 notes · View notes

pinatadulce · 5 months

Text

Julie! ✨️ (Day 1)

Julie! Aka the most cheerful neighbor 💞

Pray that my fingers don't go numb or that my digital pen doesn't break during these day plz n ty ❤️

She's adorable I feel like I could've done a bit better but honestly I hope I can at least get the message across

Shes so cute I want to cry 😭 (my younger sisters love her design 💗)

BY THE WAY THANK YOU ALL FOR ALL THE LOVE YOU'VE GIVEN MY SHIP FANART OF WALLY AND THE STUPID DENSE LIBARIAN (aka my boy Luddy) /srs 🥹💞

Edit: (also one last thing. I FINALLY REACHED 1000 LIKES TY ALL ONCE AGAIN 💜)

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girlboybug · 11 months

Text

Crush

"he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds."

what's playing 🎧: crush by ethel cain

pairing : bfd!joel x reader (no outbreak au)

word count : 14k (oops)

*unedited*

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, age gap, heavy petting, grinding, fingering, handjobs, references to m!masturbation, unprotected sex, creampies, light dirty talk, riding, soft dom!joel, but also switch coded joel if u squint, slight angst kinda sorta

TRIGGER WARNINGS : lowkey dubcon just bc of the power imbalance that comes with the age gap but everything is consensual as always. joel knew the reader when they were 4, 16 years have passed so now they're 20! brief mentions of messy home life and brief descriptions of verbal sexual harassment

A/N : i've been dying to write bfd!joel, and when i heard crush i knew what i had to do lolol. so sorry this took ages, it wasn't supposed to be this long but here we are lol. i hope you guys enjoy <3 comments really motivate me, so if you liked it plz lmk in the comments :3

your eyes continually drift over to the time glowing in the corner of the screen on your register, wondering when joel was supposed to swing by. you pray that he hasn’t forgotten his promise to your dad of checking out your air conditioner to see what needs to be repaired.

the tiny fan that sits beside your half drinken water bottle does little to nothing, and it only adds insult to injury.

you think back to last night at dinner, in your air conditioned home, about the ‘exciting’ news your dad had to share. he rattled on about how he ran into an old college buddy and family friend, joel miller down at the pro bass shop—and of course it was at the pro bass shop.

after a few jogs of your slightly depleting memory, you finally, somewhat, remembered a face to the name. you vaguely joined in with your parents’ reminiscing of how he used to come over with his little girl sarah for play dates, and occasionally babysitting you when your parents went out on their date nights.

they also were quick to tease you about your little crush on him, one you swear you can’t remember, which in your defense, you really don’t, and desperate to change the subject, you asked about his wife, which only worsened the allegations of your crush on him.

“goin through a divorce, it’s actually why he moved back here, but i’m sure you’re happy to hear that,” your dad snickered with a little nudge, and you wanted to bury your face in the steaming mashed potatoes on your plate.

once you managed to wrangle them out of the conversation of your alleged feelings towards the man you barely remembered, it was briefly mentioned that he’d be coming by today to check out your broken down air conditioner at the store your parents owned and operated.

you’re the cashier there, unwillingly of course, but it helps pay for your very expensive books you need for your classes, so it’s not a total issue. however, as you blanky look around the empty sweltering convenience store, you honestly consider closing up early and ubering home to soak in a nice, cold shower.

the bell that hangs from the door rings at the front entrance, but you’re too tired and worn down by the heat to say your usual greeting, instead deciding to just remain slumped in your small wooden stool, aimlessly trying to angle your mini fan at the most optimal point of your face.

your peripheral view catches a navy blue hued shirt, and your head lifts upwards to get a better look in case it’s a customer.

your eyes fall onto an older man smiling down at you, crossed arms bulging from behind his short sleeves. something bubbles in the very pit of your stomach. “mr. miller?” you ask, slightly unsure, but he nods, chuckling when his arms drop to his sides. “heya hun, it’s been awhile, how are you?” he leans in for a hug, and you suddenly don’t feel the sweat that’s been stuck to your skin for the past three hours as you rise to your feet and off the stool to meet his arms that come around your waist. you manage to stutter a response of, “i’m good, and you?”

“doin’ alright,” he says through a grin– oh god, his grin is so pretty, you think you almost see a cartoonish sparkle glint in his teeth from the fluorescent lighting.

your stomach bubbles up the more you take him in, and oh no. the worst possible thing just came to fruition.

your parents were actually right.

he pulls back, hands still on the backs of your arms as he takes a moment to really look at you. “you’re so grown up now honey, i remember when you were just this big,” he holds a hand just below his hip and you join in his light laughter, feeling those fluttery feelings you felt all those years ago rush to your chest and tummy like a dormant volcano erupting.

he hasn’t aged a bit, maybe a few more wrinkles here and there, and the crows feet beside his eyes deepen more now when he smiles, along with the grays that take the place of where some strands of brown used to be. but he’s just as beautiful as your fuzzy memories, if not more.

“y-you look exactly the same,” you chuckle nervously, trying to not give in to the magnetic pull tempting your eyes in the direction of his chest and abdomen. he grows a little bashful, glancing away for a moment before he replies, a little pinker in the cheeks than before. “i definitely don’t weigh the same, sweetheart,” he sighs playfully, patting his stomach.

you hear the traces of slight disappointment in his words and it saddens you. you shake your head, feeling even warmer under the heavy feeling from his eyes blanketing over you while you frown ever so slightly. “i think you look great.” you say truthfully, feeling nervous as soon as the words part from you, worried he might think you’re too forward, but instead he smiles again, looking down at his boots.

“you’re too kind.” he grins, looking back up at you, his fingers running along the side of his beard. you feel flushed, glancing away from his smiles.

“goddamn, it is hot in here,” he pinches at his shirt, pulling it back and forth to get a slight breeze. you nod vigorously, plopping back into your stool, fanning yourself once more. “i can show you were the ac’s at,” you offer, and he agrees.

you guide him to the useless machine, eyeing it down with an irritated look, as if it were alive, and purposefully broken down to spite you.

he walks over to it, bending down to its level and you balance on your heels awkwardly, overthinking on if it’s the correct social etiquette to say anything right now.

“hmm, lemme get my belt from the truck, i’ll be back hun,” he nods at you, sending you a smile before he disappears out the store and back to his truck.

when you’re sure he’s out of view, you curl in on yourself, holding your face and opening your mouth to let out a silent scream.

all it took was seeing him for two seconds, for a crush you didn’t even remember existed until last night to come back immediately.

when he returns, he sends you a smile before he goes right to work, setting up shop beside the air conditioner, toolbelt wrapped around the alluring circumference of his waist.

you imagine what it’d be like if it were your hands instead of the worn down leather that envelops him, how his skin would feel in your palms and jesus, you are being so creepy right now.

he talks while he works, listing about all the things wrong with the ac, jokingly calling your dad a cheapskate for not being willing enough to upgrade to a functioning one that wasn’t manufactured before you were born. and of course, you laugh, leaning against a counter, hoping he just so happens to turn to the side to spare you a glance and notice that you look effortlessly sexy.

he mainly keeps his focus on the task at hand but, you keep hoping he turns to look over at you at some point.

no customers have come in yet, and for once you are eternally grateful for a slow day.

your eyes trail from his biceps, down to his strong forearms, they look safe, secure, like they could hold you and keep you locked in, and his hands…god his hands.

they’re long, and big. his wide palms that splay across the side of the ac make the machine somehow look small in comparison. his fingers are so skillful, prodding and working at the screws and confusing bits you didn’t even know were a part of the contraption — but honestly the mechanisms of the ac are not what you care about right now.

you care about how it would feel if it were your sides, your hips, being touched and caressed instead of the machine, and how his big strong hands could hold onto them, grip them, squeeze them tight like a real man would.

you notice the way he swipes his forearm across his forehead, clearing away the sweat that beads over the skin, feeling bad that he’s doing so much manual labor in such terrible conditions.

you depart from your shared space for a moment, padding towards the refrigerators stocked full of drinks.

you return to him, tapping his shoulder and smiling brightly when he looks at you, eyes darting down to the cold root beer in your hands. “for you. least i can offer while you work,” you beam and he chuckles, switching some weight onto his left foot, his hand resting on his hip when he graciously takes the bottle from you.

“well thank you hun,” he tips his head at you, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

you watch the way his lips curl around the rim, how his hand just about swallows the entire bottle and the way his adam’s apple bobs while he drinks. you have to fight back the urge to squeeze your thighs together to alleviate the tingly feeling spreading inside you.

“how’d you remember i like root beer?” he asks, eyes peering at you with a warm surprise, his fingers twisting the screwdriver into the side of the ac.

you hop up onto the counter beside him, swinging your legs while you shrug. “just randomly came to mind i guess,” he turns to look at you, taking note of the way his eyes land on your bare legs first before they flicker back up to your eyes. you feel a little cocky about that.

“always were a helpful girl,” he says, and you just about glow at his little compliment, folding a leg over the other while you rest on your palms, trying to hide how big your smile grows.

“thank you,” you say quieter, shyer than you mean to.

you two converse a bit longer, and you decide to sneakily flip the open sign to closed in the window while you listen to his responses.

the topic of college is brought up, and you respond to his questions about how it’s going, what you’re majoring in, and you answer, creative writing, feeling flushed when he pauses his work to smile at you.

“an’ you know what, you always were a storyteller when you were young, i bet you’ve only gotten better since,” he says wistfully, fondly imagining you typing away and creating stories he’d happily read all about.

he’s not a big reader, but for you? he could be.

when he finishes up, he calls you over, turning the knob on high and watching as the ac releases what sounds like a guttural groan before a gust of icy air greets your bare arms.

you gasp and squeal in delight over no longer being slowly cooked to death in your parent’s mini mart.

“thank you mr. miller you’re literally the best,” you gush and he waves you off, gathering his tools as he nears the register.

“ahh don’t worry ‘bout it. i’m happy to do it. ‘specially if ya had anyone else do it for you, i know you’d get charged damn near an arm and a leg,” he rests his hands on the counter and your eyes trace over his long fingers while you make your way beside him. you feel giddy when you notice the tan line on his ring finger.

a reminder of the fact that he’s single now.

you just nod, holding back from saying something along the lines of how you’d be more than happy to pay him for this service with a…different kind of service of your own in return.

“so how much was the root beer hun?” he asks, flicking through the bills in his wallet. you immediately shake your head, ignoring his protests of accepting a free drink.

“no that was on the house mr. miller, i will not take your money,” you say stubbornly and he squints at you, huffing in defeat. “you sure? don’t want you gettin’ in trouble with your folks if they find out you’re out here givin things away for free now,” his hands settle on his hips and he gives you a playfully testing look, still managing to cause a flurry of emotions to ripple inside your lower tummy.

“who’s gonna tell them?” you counter, voice lowering just a little, eyes following in suit as you stare up at him.

his soft chuckle fades between his parted lips at the shift in your demeanor. his jaw comes down for a second before his lips curl to the side. “alright, thank you sweetpea,” he concedes just an octave above a murmur.

“is there anything else you wanted to get? because in all seriousness, they’d probably get more upset at me for actually charging you instead of just letting you have it for free.” you say truthfully, feeling positive that your dad wouldn’t mind joel taking a few things home free of charge.

he holds out that big hand of his, chuckling when his gaze shifts to the ground before it rests back over on you. “nah s’alright hun, root beer was already mighty gracious of you,” but you’re not buying it, you head behind the register, arms extending along the expanse of the wall of products, pretending to sell the items like you’re showcasing the prizes on a game show.

“you suuure? anything you want, completely free,” you offer temptingly and his lips collect themselves to the side of his mouth, chuckling mutedly, a little shake of his head as he watches you.

“alright,” he leans forward, and you feel your throat get a little tight at his ministrations, suddenly noticing the slight glimmer of a chain hidden beneath his shirt.

“can you get me that pack of marlboro reds behind you hun?” he points at the carton of cigarettes, and for some reason his request makes your stomach get tight.

you think back to how not even a day ago you rambled about your visceral dislike for boys, discarding them as a waste of time — but joel isn’t a boy. he’s a man, and may the version of yourself who existed moments before he came in, forgive you for being a melted pile of hypocritical mush he’s managed to turn you into in the span of less than two hours.

you can hear your mother’s scoff in your head as you find yourself feeling giggly at his choice of a freebie. it’s just so. manly.

he’s so manly.

you hand him the carton and he pockets it, not before taking a cigarette out, deciding to indulge early. “thank you sweetpea,” he smiles, cigarette already being placed between his lips.

“no problem,” you nod with a grin. he eyes the closed sign before he looks at you once more with a knowing smirk. “closing early i see,” he pointedly nods at the sign and you shrug with a sheepish little smile, neither confirming nor denying the notion.

“lemme guess—folks won’t mind? and would actually be more upset if you didn’t close up early?” he teases, and it almost feels like flirting. you decide to tell yourself it is. so you play along, rolling your eyes and waving your hand dismissively with an equally teasing ha. ha. ha laugh.

“it’s been a slow day, so no, they actually won’t mind, for your information,” you fold your arms, wriggling your face blithely. he chuckles, lighting his cigarette, taking a drag before he continues. “d’you need a ride home then hun?” he asks, genuinely offering and you have to forcibly give yourself a moment to pause before immediately yelling an overly enthusiastic YES PLEASE.

“are you sure? you’ve already done a lot for me today,” you act a little bashful, mostly because you are, but you also are attempting to hide the excitement bubbling inside you at the thought of being alone with him in his truck.

he shakes his head, exhaling the smoke from his lips silently, unknowingly entrancing you. “ts’ not a problem at all, cmon,” he motions his head towards the door and you trail along like a lost puppy.

you lock up the door behind you before you’re greeted by the sight of joel holding the passenger seat open for you.

your face gets hotter than it was before he fixed the ac at the sight of his chivalry, pretending to curtsy with your invisible dress before you climb into his truck, mumbling a shy thank you, as he safely closes the door behind you.

he hops in, and you read your address out for him as he turns the keys in the ignition.

it’s a little silent for awhile, but it’s okay, you’re content stealing glances at him, hiding behind the fist that supports the weight of your tilted head, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes cast over him adoringly.

he’s so beautiful. you definitely had taste as a kid.

he even looks strong, and not in an annoying machismo way, but in a natural, humble way. a kind way.

you want to touch his broad shoulders, kiss your way down his biceps to his forearms and down to each and every finger of his. you want to kiss away all the callouses and take care of him the way he deserves.

you can’t believe you’re daydreaming about him in such a way right in front of him, especially since it’s the first time you’ve seen him in about 16 years and this is how you react.

oh well.

the contrast of grey in his soft looking brown hair is so complementary, you hope he hasn’t turned into one of those guys that put dye over it, because frankly you think the natural look suits him quite well.

you drift your stares down to his strong hooked nose, admiring how charming it is. you want to trace your finger tip down the slope of it, and uh oh he’s looking at you.

you can’t be too obvious in your actions, despite the fact that you already are, so you just smile instead of whipping your head around in the opposite direction like you wish you could. “can i try?” you ask, motioning towards his cigarette, trying to play off the situation as to not expose the real reason why you were staring.

he just chuckles under his breath, his smile lingering when he turns to look back at the road. “that’s ahh, not really a good habit you wanna get yourself into sweetpea.” he says with a small shake of his head.

you almost give up right there, but you decide to push just a little further. “it won’t be a habit, i just wanna see the appeal is all,” you turn in the seat to fully face him, smile growing when he leans his head towards you in a jokingly exasperated tilt. he says your name warningly, and you deflate for a moment, worried he may actually be annoyed with you.

you don’t say anything else and he notices, feeling bad at your silence. he sighs with guilt, wanting to remedy the incorrect thoughts you have of him being upset at you as he hands you the cigarette. you instantly perk, taking it into your own fingers. “careful now. you might choke, waters right there in the cup holder if it burns. don’t inhale it too long,” he instructs, watching you from the corner of his eyes to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

you wave away his worries, placing the stick between your lips, feeling warm all over when you get a thought that says it’s kind of like we just kissed through the cigarette.

you inhale, hold it in for a few passing seconds before you’re proving his warnings correct, coughing loudly and not flatteringly whatsoever.

you try to face away from him, your eyes beginning to water and your throat burning worse than when you smoked from a very suspicious wax pen. the last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this.

he brings a hand behind your back, rubbing it soothingly as he sighs to himself, feeling a tinge of guilt for letting you smoke.

“easy honey easy, drink some water,” he hands you the bottle of water and you down it, blinking away your tears as you hand him back his cigarette. “that was so embarrassing i’m so sorry,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“s’alright honey, least now i bet you really won’t wanna make this a habit now right?” he asks, hoping you confirm your aversion to cigarettes. you instead choose to tease him a little, humming a contradictory response to his question. he squints at you and you giggle. “i dunno, might have to try again so i can really make sure.”

he taps the ashes out the window, laughing at your reply. “you’re gonna get me in trouble with your dad there hun f’he finds out i turned his daughter into a little chain smoker,”

you slide your hands under your thighs, watching him for a moment before you speak. “i won’t tell if you don’t,” you repeat yourself from earlier, alluding to something else, hoping he reads your mind and understands your allusions.

he purses his lips in a slight upward furl, looking at you once he’s reached a red light. “someone’s gotten a whole lot sneakier since the last time i saw her,” you laugh, leaning into the headrest while you look at him. “a lots changed since,” you say, voice falling quietly and he holds your stare, his eyes betraying him by clearly darting down to your lips. the red light switches back to green, forcing him to look away from you.

your chest bloomed at the way he looked at you in that moment, unsure if you’re delusional in even considering the possibility he maybe could reciprocate the attraction you’re feeling. but a little delusion never hurt anyone anyways.

“it sure has,” he agrees, the corner of his eyes taking in your figure once more.

but he shakes the thought from his head, almost rebuking it and instead deciding to change the subject. “can’t fault you too much though. sarah’s the same way sometimes,” he says through a chuckle that sounds nervous — did you make him nervous?

again, you tell yourself you did.

you sit up straight at the mention of sarah, visibly growing excited. “oh my god sarah, how is she? it’s been so long, i’m sure she doesn’t remember me,” blurred memories of playing with plastic makeup sets, and real makeup you two ‘borrowed’ from her mom, replay in your mind at the mention of her.

he shakes his head, disagreeing at your slightly saddened thought of being forgotten by sarah. “she’s good, she’s in school just like yourself, and she does remember you hun! matter a fact, she’s home right now, if you’d like, you can come over for dinner and catch up with her,” you clap your hands together excitedly, nodding happily at his suggestion.

“yes! that sounds amazing, i would love to!” you accept and he smiles at the thought of his two girls sitting together talking at the dinner table.

“i’m sure she’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you,” he squeezes your knee and you go still, frozen in place when you feel the heat from his palm radiate into your skin.

his touch is gone too soon, you want to hold his wrist and keep him there, but you pretend his fleeting touch doesn’t affect you as strongly as it actually does.

the heat from his skin has become yours and you cradle it, pretending you’re not beaming in his passenger seat from it while he talks.

“i’m kinda nervous, it’s been so long,” you say, pressing the backs of your fingers to your cheeks and feeling the warmth of nervousness flush to the surface of your face.

“don’t be sweetpea, nothin to be nervous about, i promise,” he comforts your nerves with a soft voice, and you allow it to cushion you.

—

joel was right about two things.

you really did have nothing to worry about, you and sarah clicked right away as if no time had passed. she squealed when she saw you, racing towards you and enveloping you in a tight hug, rambling about how she’s missed you so much. it felt good to know you were never forgotten in her mind.

he was also right about sarah being sneaky.

or rather ‘persuasive’ and ‘just so happens to forget to mention certain things’ as she would put it.

she managed to convince both joel (which didn’t take much convincing to begin with) and your dad to let you sleep over, which you were ecstatic about for obvious reasons but also because she saved you from having to scramble for a reason as to why you closed up the shop early.

you’re in her bed now, sitting behind her while you help gather her hair into her baby pink bonnet, talking about anything and everything there is to talk about. while also getting ready to sleep off the high from the wax pen she has hidden under her pillow.

“i can’t believe you’re really here with me right now,” she grins as you move back in front of her, leaning into her opening arms.

“i know, me too, it’s been so long,” you hum, rubbing her shoulders. “i’m kidnapping you by the way, this was all just an elaborate scheme to lure you in.” she mentions casually and you laugh, falling back into her bed with her while you rest your head on her shoulder.

“fine by me,” you say, and you mean it, but you don’t add that in.

“i’m happy you’re here,” she whispers, her nose scrunching up against yours. you smile, holding your forehead to hers. “i am too.”

“are you busy tomorrow?” she asks, pulling the blankets over your bodies. you shake your head, curling under the covers. “nah, we’re closed tomorrow at the store and i don’t have school that day,” you say, feeling pure adoration as you watch sarah’s smile grow the more she listens to you talk.

“why don’t we spend the day together then! my dad’s gonna be at work so we’ll have the house to ourselves,” she whispers as all the excitement from the day starts to add weight into your bones, easing you both into rest.

you nod and smile sleepily, leaning into her arm that drapes over your side. “okay, i’ll call my dad tomorrow,” you yawn and she closes her eyes at that, content by your answer.

—

it’s 3am. you should not be awake. but you are, and you’re looking over at sarah, wishing you were fast asleep like she is. you carefully peel yourself out of her arms, gently covering her with the blankets before you pad out of her room and down into the kitchen for some water.

you tiptoe down the stairs, your heart sinking nervously right into a tight spot inside your stomach when you see the fridge door agape, with a broad back sticking out of it, also in search of something to drink.

joel rises and turns to see your stilled figure standing awkwardly, staring forward like you’ve just gotten caught stealing.

he chuckles, scratching a few lazy fingers down his stubble when he shuts the fridge. “what’re you doin up sweetpea?” he asks, and oh god his voice is nice and gravely, a rasp from the depths of sleep that he evades every night careens around your ears and you nearly fold at the knees.

“just uh, randomly woke up and i couldn’t go back to bed. was just gonna get some water, sorry,” you sound meek and joel shakes his head, and walks closer. you panic a little. it’s a good panic.

“nuthin’ to be sorry about hun, i’ll getchu some water,” he holds your arm, smiling softly down at you, nodding at you for confirmation. once again his touch abandons the skin of your upper arm when he leaves to fetch a cup for your water.

your hand graces the skin he touched as you watch him pour you water. he hands it to you, and you thank him quietly, taking a sip from the old plastic disney princess cup he picked out for you.

“so what woke you up? you feelin’ alright?” he murmurs, coming in close again to press the back of his hand to your forehead. you weren’t overheating until he decided to do that.

you swallow hard, shaking your head beneath his hand. “n-no no—well i mean yes, yes i’m-i’m okay, i just wake up randomly at odd hours of the night for some reason sometimes,” you say hushedly, afraid to disturb the peaceful silence the night brings.

he nods understandingly, withdrawing his hand from your face and you want to tell him he can keep it there, but you mentally digress.

“happens to me too,” he sighs, visibly tired with a hand lazily running down his stubble. “sorry you’re goin’ through it too then hun,” his thumb runs a small circle over your shoulder comfortingly and your body molds around the curve of his fingers.

“it’s okay,” you mumble shyly and he smiles softly, his touch stalling on yours before it drops back to his side. the air that fills the quiet kitchen turns into something warm and calming when it floats between your tired bodies, and it feels nice. feels domestic. soft smiles mirror each other on your faces and you look away, unable to handle the weight of his stare.

“so, do you um…do anything that helps you fall asleep?” you ask curiously, mostly just trying to make conversation to keep him tethered to you, even for just a moment longer.

he scratches his scruffy beard and sighs, nodding like he’s somewhat ashamed to admit. you grow curiouser, deciding to test the waters and inch in just the tiniest bit closer. “and what do you do?” you question through a whisper.

“i smoke,” he responds just as hushed and you chuckle. “sounds like you’ve got a bad habit.” you prod, lightly teasing and he takes the playful jab, chuckling along with you.

“well, we’ve all got our vices,” he smiles at you in a way that's playfully guilty, and you roll your eyes with the same playfulness before speaking again. “was i stopping you from taking a smoke?” you ask, and he shakes his head, denying the notion. “no no, and if you were it’d probably be for the best,” he shrugs and you grin. an idea occurs in your mind.

“can i smoke with you again?” you ask bravely and the volume in his laugh rises before he’s silencing himself so as to not wake sarah.

“ain’t happenin’, shouldn’t have even happened the first time,” he immediately shoots down your request but you have a sneaking suspicion you’ll wear him down.

“but you said it helps you go to sleep,” you counter with a pout and he sighs with faux exasperation.

“hun,” he says warningly again, eyeing you in a way that pins you where you stand. “first time seein’ you in what? 15 to 16 years and i’m already becomin’ a bad influence on you.” he says amusedly, his fingers dipping into the pocket of his plaid pajama bottoms, tracing over the curve of the loose cigarettes that await him.

“it’s not like you’re giving me hard drugs mr. miller,” you say, tilting a shoulder at him persuasively. his eyes trace over your face for a few passing seconds, taking in the way you look back at him before he decides what to do next.

“last time, understand? just to help you sleep.” he says, but it sounds like he’s more so reminding himself than he is you.

“okay,” you smile, following him to the loveseat that faces the window, and you assume this is where he usually smokes.

he cracks open the window, and sits down into the plump cushion, leaning against the very texan quilt that drapes over the seat. you sit down on the arm of the seat, stretching your legs above his knees, the closeness in proximity feels so personal, and you want to live the rest of your life in this quiet and intimate hour with joel.

he hands you a cigarette, watching you put it between your lips, his available hand straying off to the side to grab the lighter that’s on the tray beside the loveseat.

he flicks the lighter on and your faces become illuminated by the small flickering flame. he looks beautiful as he carefully lights the end of it, his eyes on the bud of it while your’s memorize each and every wrinkle that crinkles around his eyes.

“inhale, careful now,” his words of concern blanket over you and pave a smooth passageway for the smoke to enter into your lungs, successfully preventing you from breaking out into another coughing fit.

you inhale, and keep it before you fan it out the window. he smiles and pats your ankle that rests beside his lap. “there ya go,” he nods the crown of his head at you proudly. you bow humbly, handing him the cigarette.

“feels nice. makes me feel warm,” you mumble tiredly, watching the way he takes a drag effortlessly. “don’t get too used to it now,” he chides, words shadowed amidst the mist of his smoke.

“i won’t,” you reply with a knowing smile as he goes to hands it back to you. he pulls his hand that holds the cigarette back, eyeing you. he says your name in that tone and you wave him off, taking the cigarette from his fingers. “kidding,” you remedy his worries of your possible nicotine addiction in the nearby future, inhaling another drag.

you two go back and forth like this for awhile, until the cigarette becomes an unrecognizable little stub,

“feel sleepy yet?” he exhales through a fanning breath, and you nod, watching him flatten the bud into the ashtray beside his side of the armrest.

“good,” he yawns, lazily running a hand across the side of his beard. “got a long day tomorrow — or today technically, an’ so do you little miss, try an’ get some rest.” he drawls softly, sleepily, and you nod your tired head at his words, free falling into them.

“goodnight sweetpea,” he says with a gentle finality, leaning in to hold you by the back of your head, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. you crumble into his touch, shutting your eyes as if to fossilize yourself in the moment.

“goodnight,” you whisper, feeling cold when he pulls away. you wish you had thought of something more to say, anything at all that would’ve kept him in your presence for just a little longer, but now you’re stuck sitting alone in the living room, watching his broad back ascend up the stairs, wishing you were trailing behind him, with your hand in his.

you finish the rest of your water before you’re trudging back up the stairs, the weight of exhaustion lowering its heft onto your shoulders with each step upwards.

and as you crawl back into bed with sarah, despite the attempts to push the thoughts away, all you can think about are the ways in which her father could tire you out until you fell asleep.

___

after that day, the miller household practically became your second home. more often than not showing up to their house rather than your own after school and work.

at first you were worried that maybe you were beginning to overstay your welcome, that maybe they just didn’t know how to tell you to stop coming over so often. but they quickly put those insecurities to rest when sarah called you wondering why you hadn’t shown up after work, saying how joel set a plate for you at the table and it was getting cold.

they were just as attached to you as you were to them.

they really loved having you over, loved getting to make up for all those years you all went without each other, taking the time to relearn everything there is to know about the other.

for instance, joel learned you have an affinity for tight tank tops that ride a little too low on your chest and rise a little too high whenever you bend down.

his fingers have a tendency to straighten out your spaghetti straps, and he always murmurs something along the lines of, showin a lotta skin today huh hun?

you’d grow warm under his touch, hiding behind a pretty grin and an excuse of oh, heat’s just gettin’ to me lately, or his personal favorite, damn dryer shrunk my clothes again.

he doesn’t mind whatever your excuse is, he’d just hand you his flannel, telling you to at least wrap it around your waist whenever guys were around, because i know how men think, he’d explain and you wouldn’t argue, you’d happily accept his flannel and listen to his heeding.

you wonder if he was having the same thoughts he was trying to prevent other men from having about you.

you like to tell yourself he was.

but there is one thing you don’t have to convince yourself of. joel really, truly, and utterly cares for you.

joel is nothing if not protective, he just wants to look out for you, make sure you’re safe, that you’re okay, and so when you called him at work, voice trembling and meekly asking if he can pick you up, naturally, he abandoned his meeting at work to race over to you.

creating blueprints for a new apartment building suddenly became unimportant the second he heard your voice crack over the phone.

he could hear the way your breath paused for a moment, only to come out shakily through tears when he asked if you were alright. your audible sadness casted immediate worry and concern over him, instilling itself in his chest.

he sees you now, rushing to walk out of the store, locking it on your way out, and he hops out of his truck, wanting to be the first thing you’re greeted by as soon as you raise your head.

relief rinses through you the moment you see joel standing in front of his truck, your eyes betraying the attempt at strength you were fighting so hard to have the second he pulls you into his arms.

his hands feel warm and heavy behind your back, rubbing all the quiet sobs out from you with each gentle circular movement.

“oh babygirl,” he murmurs under his breath, feeling his heart break with each little gasp you make through your tears. “what happened?” he asks, unintentionally causing the tears to fall harder, making you fist at his button up.

“today has been so bad,” you finally say, your head resting on his strong chest, shaking fingers tracing over the seams of his button up in an attempt at self soothing.

“wanna get inside an’ talk about it?” he asks just above a whisper, keeping his voice soft for you. you nod, twisting the knife in his chest when you sniffle.

he helps you into his truck, shutting the door behind you, meeting back with you soon once he’s in the driver’s seat.

“now what happened honey?” he asks, and you take in a deep breath through the tears, waving your hands at your eyes to try and stop the stinging sensation at your waterline.

“today has just been one bad thing after the other,” you wipe away the stray tears with annoyed fists, wishing they would cease their incessant presence. “first, i got into a fight with my dad, he called me selfish and inconsiderate for not canceling class to come down to the shop earlier and that there’s no point in attending class because i’m just gonna get overwhelmed and quit anyway,” you barely manage to say tearfully, further etching a frown into joel’s features, his chest aching at the way you’re visibly hurting.

he says your name tenderly, matching the way his hand reaches out for you to hold. you squeeze his hand, holding onto it when it rises upwards to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping a stray tear across your cheekbone.

you lean into his palm, shutting your eyes at his touch. “and i’m scared he’s right, today in class i was so stressed all i wanted to do was walk out,” you whimper ashamedly, and joel shushes you, bringing his free hand to fully hold your face, turning your gaze back up to meet his. his hold on you is delicate, like you’re a dandelion amidst a strong breeze, and all he wants to do is keep you with him, safe and sound.

your cheeks are cradled by his hands, his calluses turning into a thing of comfort against your cheeks, along with his thumbs that swipe away the tears that refuse to concede from your lash line.

he holds you like this for a while, wordlessly guiding your breathing with his, evening out your sporadic hiccups induced by your crying, settling your nerves down to a more manageable level.

your eyes flutter shut at the safety he drapes over you, your smaller hands holding onto his wrists, mindlessly running your thumb along his knuckles. “wish you were with me at work today,” you mumble, imagining the way he would’ve protected you from the creepy customers you had to deal with.

“what else happened?” he lightly coaxes it out of you, wanting you to get everything out so you don’t have to carry the burden of the day’s stress on your shoulders.

“these guys came in, and they were just so weird,” your hands tighten around his wrists, recounting the uncomfortable interaction you were subjected to.

“kept…kept making weird jokes about everything…i said if they needed anything to let me know and i heard one of them tell their friend i better be careful saying things like that, and they like—ugh,” you take a moment to catch your breath, refocusing on the way joel’s gently running his fingers across your temples, something he’d do for you in the middle of the night whenever you’d get a headache.

“they kept making jokes about me taking off my clothes because it’s summer and it’s hot or whatever i dunno it was stupid but they kept ‘suggesting’ i should lose the tank top because walking around in a bra is the same as wearing s bikini at the beach,” you grimace at the fresh memory, and joel wants to take it away from you, wants to wash you clean of all the pain you felt today.

when you look up at joel his jaw is clenched, lower jaw jutting out in anger, his hands falling from your face down to your hands, holding them in his, while he shakes his head. “fuckin’ disgusting,” he mutters to himself. “probably good i wan’t there, woulda fuckin’ killed them,” he utters under his breath, and more so to himself, his hands migrating down to your hands, squeezing them hard. his eyes that hold an image of what he’d do to the men who harassed you dissipate as soon as they shift back up to you. “i’m sorry hun,” he sighs, cupping your cheek, cradling you into his palm, speaking gentler this time, “an’ as for your dad well…he’s an asshole. but i know you already know that,” he pauses to smile at your little giggle.

“he couldn’t be more wrong about you. you are so smart hun, an’ you can and will accomplish everything you set your mind to.” the soft gravel of his voice tides around you like an embrace, enveloping you in it as an attempt to wash you clean of your distress.

your eyes well and your heart soars up high inside your chest at his kindness.

“thank you mr. miller, you are so nice to me, it—it means so much coming from you, and i can’t even begin to explain how grateful i am that you even came here at all,” he left work for you. you groan with guilt at the remembrance. “and—god i’m so sorry that i just like, randomly called you at work i’m so sorry you were probably super busy, i just didn’t know who else to go to,” you ramble with guilt, but joel’s already shaking his head as you rattle off with apologies, his hands coming back up to your cheeks, stilling the words on your tongue.

“hey hey hey,” he shushes you softly. “no apologies, okay?” his thumb runs under your lash line, clearing away your tears. “i’m glad you called me, rather you call me than have to hear what happened from someone else.” he pacifies your guilt for calling him, and he does it successfully, watching the upset furrow between your brows disappear.

your lip trembles and you suck it in between your teeth, closing your eyes and leaning forward into his chest. he takes you in with no hesitation, his arms forever acting as a sanctity for you to hide in whenever you need.

he hesitantly pulls away from you for a moment, mumbling a soft, give me a sec sweetie. he shifts around to the pull at the bottom of the driver seat, extending it backwards and giving him more space between him and the steering wheel.

“cmere,” he says above a whisper, opening his arms for you once more. you’re being guided into his lap, gently wrangled in until you’re wrapped up in the thick protection of his strong biceps. he rubs your back, head resting safely on top of your’s, keeping you down to earth, keeping you in his arms.

he takes in all your tears, takes in every racking sob from your chest into his, his lips every so often pressing their silent reminders of his presence into your temple. he rocks you back and forth, his soft shushes folding over the sound of your fading cries, lulling you into a calmness you didn’t know you could feel.

“you’re okay, you’re okay,” he promises, and you believe him. you finally raise your head from his chest, the scent of him still lingering around you, his presence feels pliable, the way he’s looking at you, eyes downturned and scanning all over your face lovingly feels like a sign you know isn’t real. he says nothing, just clears away your stray tears, and that’s when you act.

you lean in, holding his wrist and intertwining your fingers as your lips do the same. you sigh into his mouth, ascending in his arms when you feel him kiss you back just as rushedly, almost like if he’s too slow you’ll vanish from him.

but it’s him who vanishes first. he pulls apart from you with a gasp, shifting you further away from him in his lap, your heart immediately cracking straight down the middle. “what’re you…what are you doing?” his questioning comes out breathless, he feels like he’s asking himself rather than he is you, and he prays you say the right thing, he prays that you call him disgusting and that you climb right out of his lap, removing the temptation and opportune to lean back in.

but you don’t. “i’m sorry,” you whimper, embarrassment flushing through your whole body, he shuts his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. “i’m too old for you, you know that right?,” his knuckles drag across your cheekbone, and you nod solemnly, swallowing hard. “i’m not a kid though, joel,” you say shakenly, nerves rattling your bones when you say his name for the first time, unhidden by the lieu of mr. miller.

“compared to me, you are,” he sighs, his hands gripping his own thighs, weighing them down to prevent them from gravitating to your’s. “i’m too old for you,” he repeats to himself, closing his eyes and leaning into the headrest, the sight and feeling of you looking up at him in his lap is too much for him to combat. “i’d be takin advantage of you,” he mutters, shaking his head, guilt starting to settle into the base of his chest.

you’re quiet for awhile, and he takes it as his answer. that he’s right, this is wrong.

but you contradict his thoughts. reaching up to pull his gaze back onto you. “you’re not taking advantage of me, i know that i want this.” you promise hushedly, and he wants to believe you. your eyes connect once more, a quiet tug of air being shared between the two of you, and you’re willing to let him have it, to let him have all the air you can offer and more. he leans in and you stay still, watching when he inches backward when he gets too close, like you’re a flame whose flicker burns too bright the closer he gets. and when you inch in, you can’t get yourself to break the seal and press yourself into him, a weight of nerves keeping you stagnant before him.

his stare rises and falls down from your eyes to your lips, and you feel it in your bones that your body needs to have him more than it needs anything else. your gaze rests on him while your body acts for you, your hand finding his and holding it, squeezing it. “please,” you whisper, your words leaving you before you can process them. he swallows down everything holding him back, lurching forward to take your lips into his. his hand slides from yours, and up your arm, squeezing it as a test to see if you’re real. his hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, kissing you hard and keeping you still, greedily wanting to keep you all for himself, wanting to memorize the taste of cherry coke on your tongue and raspberry lip balm on your lips.

it smears across his own lips, your taste immersing with his own, his mustache and beard tickling your skin just like you imagined it would, and you moan in his mouth at the feeling, flicking your tongue desperately over his, mindlessly bucking your hips against his. he groans deeply into you, grasping your hips and rocking himself into you, not a single thought in his head, just a carnal need to feel your cunt satiate the ache traveling down his cock.

you pull apart for a breath, lips still pushed together, foreheads melded in close, hips crashing into each other with need. “feels so good,” you whimper into his mouth, the pleasure from the friction making you blatantly honest.

he nods in agreement, never having heard truer words. his fingers indent the shape of themselves into your flesh, his hips acting on their own, desperate to push up into you while his mouth catches yours once more.

he groans, his cock twitching when he feels you slip your tongue into his mouth, a little moan of your own floating out when you taste a hint of root beer from his kiss.

your movements grow rushed, hands finding the heft of his flannel and fisting it to steady the heavy rocking of your hips crashing and tiding over his cock.

desperation flows in your veins where your blood once was, replacing all sense of anything except for the physical need to rut your cunt against his bulge. he can’t keep up, all he can do is let his head fall in your shoulder, his big hands coming around to find purchase on your welcoming hips. his thighs clench underneath yours, tensing when he feels you dampen him through his pants.

“baby,” he finally lets out shakily, thumbs running circles over your hips. “can’t—shit,” a beat passes with an involuntary grunt falling from his lips. “cant, can’t do this here,” he breathes, eyes hanging low upon you, his hips betraying his words with each thrust that meets your pelvis.

you slow your movements, catching your breath quietly, nodding in a silent agreement. “i don’t wanna stop,” you admit truthfully, no longer feeling bashful about the fact.

his cock aches at your honesty and he exhales through his nose, his hands tightening around you. “don’t have to,” he swallows, eyes drifting down to your hardened nipples. “just not here.”

his answer satiates you, which almost leaves him regretful when you climb off his lap and leave him cold and void of your warm cunt pressed up against him.

he starts the truck and all you can do is stare at the concentrated look on his face and his hands gripping the steering wheel.

you wonder if he’ll hold you by your throat the same way. your thighs squeeze together tightly, causing the hem of your jean shorts to rub against your clit just enough to soothe the ache inadvertently caused by joel.

he notices, eyeing you up and down, lips parted just a breadth at the sight. his hand itches to alleviate some of the pressure you’re carrying deep inside you, but instead he alleviates some of his own first. his right hand falls from the steering wheel for a moment, just to squeeze his cock when he watches the way you squirm and stare up at him from his passenger seat.

he turns away, knowing he’ll crash if he keeps staring at you, bringing his wandering hand back to the wheel.

“can i touch you?” you ask, seemingly innocent and his eyes shut for a passing second, a curt shake of his head joining the action. “not a good idea—“ he really wants you to though “gonna make me crash,” he exhales, though his hips say otherwise, inching towards your side with need.

your hand trails from his thigh down to his crotch, palming over him gently, and he grips the steering wheel, jaw vibrating with low groans.

a 10 minute drive has never felt so far until now.

your fingers curl over his bulge, straining against the seatbelt trying to lean in as close as it’ll let you until you decide to rid yourself of it all together.

“seatbelt,” he says warningly, and with concern, but you wash it away the second your lips meet the side of his neck, with your hand pawing over him to ensure his submission. and joel just about crumbles far too easily at the touches.

you’re impatient, he definitely sees that now, and you’re making it way harder than it needs to be for him to maintain his self control.

“i thought about this a lot,” you hum in his ear, leaving kisses in the wake of your warm words. his throat gets tight just like his lower belly, excitement strumming through him when he halts at a red light.

he turns towards you now, his hand dipping between your thighs, a little upward curl of his lips teasing the side of your cheek, his scruff leaving kisses of their own on your skin.

you stifle a whimper, holding onto his wrist when you grind down on his fingers. “thought about touching me like how i’m touchin’ you?” he murmurs, pressing chaste kisses to your jaw. you nod, your chest pounding at the wave of realization of what’s happening. it excites you.

“thought about it too,” he pulls away from you when the light turns green, and you stay frozen, your body suddenly unsure of how to function with a lack of his touch and proximity.

“didn’t wanna admit it to myself, but i thought about doin…a lot more than that whenever you’d come around,” he pays you a once over, his eyes lingering over the plushness of your thighs that fill his passenger seat.

“your skirts and shorts kept gettin’ so damn short, i felt guilty for wondering if it was on purpose,” a smugness takes over his face when he glances at you. “an’ now i know it was.”

you flutter at his confessions, a sense of pride swelling in you at the confirmation that your little tactics seemed to have paid off. “i just wanted your attention,” you say softly, words falling like pillows and he catches them with open arms.

his glance shifts from his crotch, up to your eyes knowingly, and he smiles faintly. “i can tell you that you had it even before you started wearin all that,” he rests his hand on your thigh, guiding the wheel with his left hand now. “but i can’t say i minded the change in outfits.” he brings his fingers over your clit, putting pressure over it and you whine quietly, bucking your hips into his touch.

“if you ever want me to stop you need to tell me okay?” he tells you, and he’s serious, his fingers pull away for emphasis and you nod profusely, holding onto his wrist desperately. “i promise, joel i don’t wanna stop,” you plead with him, and as a simple man that he is, he doesn’t seem to need much more convincing. the pads of his fingers run circles over your clothed clit, and you grind down into it, hungry for more.

“i want you,” you pant and he chuckles, drumming his thumb against the steering wheel.

“you’ve got me.”

“but i want more.”

—

it’s quiet when you arrive back at his house, the driveway is thankfully void of sarah’s little yellow volkswagen and relief blankets across your shoulders knowing she isn’t home.

he ushers you inside, his broad, strong chest pressed up against your back with his hands guiding you by your hips.

he closes the door with his back, leaning against it, watching you turn around to face him. it’s quiet for a few ticking seconds, and he watches as you lean in closer towards him. he doesn’t stop you but he doesn’t lean in to meet you halfway either. he says your name like he’s unsure if he’s even allowed to utter it, purposefully avoiding eye contact. you hum a soft little “yes?” and he sighs, his eyes falling shut for a moment.

“this ain’t right,” he reminds himself, and his hands begin to loosen on your hips. you clamp a hand over one of his, the other coming up to lure him back into you, a gentle palm of yours cupping his scruffy jaw, thumb running across the crows feet that gather at the corner of his eye. “says who?” you counter gingerly and he chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head in your hold, feeling all restraint trickle straight off him the second his eyes catch yours.

you move your hand away from his when his grip grows tight again, letting your now free hand hold both sides of his face when you go up on your tippy toes to meet him for a kiss.

he catches you off guard and pulls you deeper into him, your crotches pressed flush together when he slips his tongue into your mouth, hooking and reeling you in.

you moan into his mouth and it eggs him on, sending his hand into a downward motion towards your ass. he feels smug when you whimper in his mouth, pushing harder against his cock when he squeezes your ass.

he rubs over your ass posessively, squeezing it hard, almost in disbelief that he gets to have you like this. kiss “need you to tell me if and when you wanna stop,” kiss. you don’t reply, you just fall into him whenever he presses his lips back to yours. your lack of a response leaves him discontent and he pulls apart an inch, eyeing you down expectantly. you huff impatiently, hooking your arms around his neck. “promise. i will.” which is good enough for him as he melds into you once more.

his hands roam all over you, caressing, holding, squeezing all the places that only his eyes have traveled.

it feels good, it feels all encompassing, to feel the trails of fire his hands leave all across your skin, and you can’t get enough. “can we,” a kiss to your throat, “go to your room?” you ask, somewhat breathless and he pauses for a second, eyes tracing the outline of your bitten lips before he nods. he holds your hand, leading you into his bedroom.

the second you’re inside you’re guiding him into his own bed after having shut the door. he gazes at you amusedly, handing you the reins for a moment, keeping his hands on the edge of them while you take charge. he thinks it’s cute.

you sit him at the edge of his bed, straddling him while you push at his chest until his back meets the mattress. you’re leaning back down, holding his face in your hands, your lips hastily meeting his once more. he welcomes you, his hands holding you down on top of him by your hips.

you grind down on him, panting in his mouth at how good it feels to have him pressed right against your cunt. but it’s not enough. you need more.

your hands travel down his strong chest, fixing towards unbuttoning his flannel. he lets you, busying himself with unbuttoning your little denim shorts, but he wants to unwrap you slowly. he wants to make a show of it.

he flips you on your back and you gasp, feeling hot under his stare and stature above you. his knees rest on either side of you, indenting the bed while he maintains eye contact. his fingers take their time unzipping your shorts, and you whine quietly, bucking your hips towards him.

he pushes you back down and shushes you. “patience.” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs over your upper thighs. he doesn’t rush taking your shorts off, wanting to savor the feeling of getting to do this for as long as he can. the vision of you in his bed, wet, and impatient, laying before him in your little pink panties is about to make him burst.

he’s still fully clothed above you and it casts a warm feeling throughout your bare body. you bring your knees close to your tummy, shutting your legs at your sudden shyness. he moves in closer, shaking his head with his palms on your knees.

he pushes them back down, slipping a hand between your thighs. you gasp, arching your back into him and exhaling with relief when his fingers trace over your clothed clit. “i wanna see you honey,” he careens you gently, coaxing your shyness away. your legs part for him, and he takes full advantage, running the pads of his fingers up and down slowly, feeling the slickness start to bleed through your panties.

he pushes them to the side, swirling over your clit and feeling proud when you moan into his shoulder. he dips into your little soaked hole, exhaling into your neck at how wet you are. “barely e’n touched you and you’ve already made a mess,” he tsks you lovingly, hints of teasing in his words, and it only excites you more. your stomach and chest get tight at his touches and the way he talks to you, it’s so unreal, and you could honestly cry in this moment from how bad you want to fuck him.

“i always get like this for you—oh,” you cry out into his shoulder when he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, his digit so long that it easily hits the little spongy spot inside you that you usually struggle to reach.

“aw sweetpea,” he coos, kissing your forehead while his finger curls inside you. “got you walkin’ around all hot and bothered with no release, i’m sorry,” he kisses your temple, his gentleness contradicting the way he’s fucking you with his finger, grunting under his breath at how tight the fit is when he works in his ring finger.

you choke on a gasp at the stretch, starting to wonder if his cock will fit if his fingers are already making you feel like this.

“you gonna make it up to me?” you whimper, still maintaining an air of playfulness in your response. he chuckles, pulling apart ever so slightly to look at you, to watch the way you struggle to stare up at him with his fingers in your cunt.

“i’ll make it up to you, and then some,” he says, his voice falling low on a raspy curve. you believe him, his response feeling like a promise he intends to keep.

he’s on you again and you invite it wholly, legs coming around on either side of him go trap him into you. his fingers fuck into that sweet little spot inside you, every single flick of his wrist has your lower back bucking up into his touch.

his palm hits your clit with every movement, it’s almost cruel, giving you just an inch when you need a mile. you’re running your hands all over him, kissing him messily even when there’s a mix of your saliva dribbling on your chin and air is depleting from your lungs. none of it matters, all that does is consuming as much of joel as humanly possible.

your fingers struggle to unbutton his flannel once more, shaking and trembling too much to do it as ladylike as you wish you could but he doesn’t mind, it makes his cock twitch knowing he’s the reason why you can’t stay still.

“feels so good joel,” you whimper, fucking yourself onto his fingers when you finally undo all the pesky buttons on his flannel. he kisses your cheek, his beard tickling your skin while you slide your hands underneath his wife beater.

“good honey, s’all i wanna do,” he curls his finger right there, drinking in your cries with his lips clamped over yours. your nails drag down his chest and he winces above you, your lips still brushing together. “sh-shit m’so so sorry joel,” you remedy the scratches with gentle caresses but he shakes his head, kissing your chin. “no no s’alright baby—kinda liked it,” he chuckles, thumbing over your clit, precum starting to leak through his boxers at the way you keen into him at the little action. you giggle at his response, raking your nails softly down his chest, fingers suddenly halting only to begin trembling when he picks up the pace inside you.

“want more joel, i—fuck,” you’re panting, arching up into him, the saturation of the room is getting dimmer and glittery, it’s hard to keep your eyes open and the pounding in your chest and cunt is nearly blinding you. “need more of you, please? please god i’ll do anything,” your desperation is loud and clear and you couldn’t care less. he can feel it, can feel you gripping his fingers, squeezing him so good and he certainly hears how ready you are for him; he revels in the slick clicking sound eliciting from between your legs because of, again, him.

he swipes the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and he shushes you, kissing you wherever your tears appeared, rubbing that little spot inside of you soothingly.

you hum in pleasure, hands traveling up to his shoulders. “don’t need to cry honey, i’ll give i’to you,” his promises fan out over your lips, slipping his fingers out of you.

the loss of his fingers inside you feels cruel, you feel clingy, all you want is joel near you, around you, on you, and in you.

the sound of his hands undoing his belt hangs in the air, quiet and low breaths of desperation flicker from out your lips while you watch him pull himself out of his jeans. his cock, fat and heavy, and twitching, falls with heft on your lower tummy, resting with impatience on your skin.

you whimper, hand nervously wrapping around it, your fingers barely able to cover the thick circumference of it. “you’re huge,” you choke, unintentionally adding fuel into his ego and he chuckles, shaking his head when he kisses you.

“you’re flatterin’ me,” he murmurs against your lips, wrapping a hand around himself, guiding his tip to circle around your clit. you gasp, curling upwards into him, your forehead resting on his broad shoulder. you kiss his bare skin, the comfort of his skin to yours soothes you while he slides his cock up and down your folds.

“oh—ooh,” you suck in a big breath, hands flying to his forearms to hold onto when he starts to push in, his tip inching into you feels just as big as it looks. “shit,” you whimper at the burn that follows along with the stretch that he pushes into you and he pauses with concern. he hovers above you like a gracious adonis and it almost makes you forget the twinge of pain between your thighs.

“you need me to stop?” he asks, his words of gentleness cradling you and you shake your head, running your palms down his chest. “no, please keep going, i can take it,” you nod as further emphasis, pushing your hips up, aching to feel more of him.

he brings his lips to your’s again, sighing when he feels your little moan escape into his mouth. his cock rocks into you at a steady pace, unintentionally pushing you further up into his bed, and he holds onto you tighter, not wanting you to move an inch away from him.

“haven’t felt like—shit,” he shudders something like a whimper against your lips, and you have to hold back a moan at the sound. “ha-haven’t felt like this in so long honey,” he swallows hard, caressing the side of your face. “haven’t thought about someone like this in years’,” he groans, pushing his cock in deeper.

your clit pulses at the way he speaks to you, the way he fucks you. “had to fuckin’ jerk off like i was a teenager again after you’d leave—y’have no idea what the hell you’ve been doin’ to me honey,” he messily kisses you between each word, his thrusts growing heavy and rough inside you, the fat head of his cock prodding perfectly into the spongy little spot inside of you.

“should’ve told me sooner joel,” you whine, bucking your hips to feel more of his cock. “touched myself every night thinking of you,” you whimper out, eyes falling shut when you feel his lower half brush against your clit. he pushed in especially deep at your confession, and you gasp, holding onto him tighter.

“joel—fuck, sl-slow down, it’s so much,” you cry, barely able to hold onto him while he starts to pound into you, like he’s lost the reins and his body is in control now, an energy and stamina he hasn’t had since he was in his 20’s was back in full force and it all went into fucking you stupid.

“m’sorry honey—you just, ohfuck, feel so good an the things you’re sayin’ i just—fuck i can’t help it,” he breathes out, pressing a chaste kiss to your bitten lips. “just take it for me baby,” he groans, his hands squeezing your tits before traveling down to your hips.

his head hangs low while he splits you open on his cock, struggling to keep his eyes from shutting, but he forces them open to watch the way his cock stretches you wide. “you’re so big,” you whine, teeth coming down to sink into the heft of his shoulder. he groans in your neck, sending you a particularly hard thrust.

the scent of cigarettes wafts around you the more he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips nip at your skin and you whimper into his shoulder at the thought of you going home smelling like him.

his calloused hands mold to the shape of your body no matter where they travel, forming perfectly around you to hold onto you as tight as he can.

silence falls between you two, the only communication occurring is the shared grunts and groans that slip into each other’s open mouths. his forehead rests on yours, occasionally moving to your collarbone or ducking down to graze his teeth across your breasts, tongue darting out to wetten your nipples.

the sound of your soaked cunt getting fucked is near obnoxious—it’s loud, and you pray that the windows in his bedroom are shut, because there’s no doubt that if they aren’t, his neighbors will hear everything.

your legs shakily hang off his lower back, pushing him in deeper and deeper.

his thrusts start to slow in pace, and each drag of his cock inside you feels hypnotic, feels amazing, and he groans the same sentiments in your ear, kissing the skin behind it. “m’sorry,” his hips pause to a halt and you panic for a second, wondering if you somehow did something wrong. “everything okay?” you ask softly, clearing the hair away from his eyes. he nods, avoiding eye contact embarrassedly. “my back—startin to cramp up on me,” he mutters, pulling out of you and you hold back a sound of disappointment from the lack of weight on top of you.

he sits up, back facing away from you, head in his hands. “i’m sorry honey,” he apologizes, still not looking at you. you frown, shuffling on your knees towards him. you hold him from behind, kissing the side of his neck.

“don’t be.” you murmur, moving around in front of him now. you push at his chest gently, clambering on top of him. his eyes widen, a grin slowly spreading across his lips while his hands rest on your thighs. “what’re you doin?” he asks under a raspy breath, his cock twitching underneath you with excitement.

you hold his shaft, realigning him with your eager hole, leaning down to press a kiss before you speak. “i’m taking over.” is all you say as you sink down on his cock, wincing at the intrusion.

his eyes roll back and his head falls into the pillow, his hands starting to grip your hips. “baby,” he moans to himself, his cheeks growing hot. you have to inch him in at a cautious pace but he doesn’t mind, your tight warmth is something he welcomed wholeheartedly.

you start to grind your hips experimentally, hoping it feels good for him. you honestly have no idea what you’re doing. you’ve only had sex once but you don’t know if it even really counts.

if a guy putting it in then pulling out because he came too fast counted then, sure you’ve had sex.

however all of this; it’s different with joel, that was a boy, and now you’ve got a man’s cock buried in your pussy. and you want to make him feel like one, you don’t want him to feel ashamed about his age or anything like that. you’ll make him forget about everything.

you shudder a breathy moan at the new position, resting your hands on his broad chest, admiring the beautiful man that rests under you. “tell me what makes you feel good joel,” you murmur, head falling towards him, making direct eye contact with him. he swallows hard, his cock aching at how fucking hot you are.

“shit baby, just use me how you want, use my cock honey.” he groans, licking his fingers and bringing it to your clit. you whine, almost toppling over on top of him at the contact, but you hold yourself up, determined to make both yourself and joel feel good.

you grab his hands, unclamping them from the grip that rested around your hips and instead dragging them up your sides and onto your breasts, silently telling him to squeeze as much as he pleases.

and that he does.

he squeezes them, bucking his hips upwards into yours as he watches the way your flesh fills the gaps between his fingers. you rise and fall onto his cock, bouncing on it with a rhythm that hits every sensitive spot inside of you.

you look down to where you meet, sucking in your bottom lip at the sight of him disappearing inside of you each time you lower yourself onto him. you rock back and forth, whimpering at how deep he can reach in you. you watch the way he swirls his fingers over your clit, touching you better than you could ever do on your own time.

“c’mere honey,” he groans for you, and you obey, bending down to rest on his chest. he stops you before you can fully lay on top of him, holding you just under your ribs. he pulls you into his mouth, sucking over the soft flesh of your chest, tongue licking messily and hungrily all over your breasts. you gasp, arching your back into his mouth. “j-joel,” you moan, struggling to maintain the rhythm you built.

his teeth tease your nipples and you shiver, your nails digging into his shoulders at the sensation. you bounce on his cock, mind going numb and fuzzy while your senses take over, each thrust feeling like electric in your veins.

after he’s done sucking bruises into your soft flesh, your hands reconnect once more, and you pin them down beside his head, hovering above him while you ride his cock.

i love you, almost slips from your lips while you stare at each other, chests rising and falling heavily, mouths parted, tongues darting out to wet your lips with hunger. the words hang in the air without sound, you’re sure of it.

you grind down onto him as far as you can take him, feeling him nudge your cervix, and you whimper at just how deep he can go inside of you. he takes your moment of weakness as an opportunity to flip you right back to where you all started; underneath him.

you gape at him, unable to process his quick movements. you’re laying at the foot of the bed now, and he’s grabbing your calves, tugging you closer towards him. he pushes back in and wastes no time in pounding you like nothing happened. he grabs your leg, pushing it up further towards your chest, angling himself in even deeper, pure desire fueling him. “shit baby,”

he mutters, his hair falling in his eyes as he kisses your jaw.

he rubs your clit with his thick fingers and you cry out, starting to tremble uncontrollably beneath him. “think m’gonna cum joel, m’so so so close,” you whine, your eyes falling heavy with your impending orgasm.

“let me have it honey, cmon,” he kisses his encouragement into your cheek, fucking you with determination to make you cum, hard. his fingers never relent on your clit, and you can’t stop the panting that leaves your lips, all you can do is writhe beneath him while he fucks you through your dizzying climax. you moan his name in breathy chants, spasming as your body tries it’s best to ride out the stimulation that joel bombards you with.

his hips grow messy and sporadic, he’s catching your lips in a hot kiss, tongues clashing and saliva falling to the corners of your mouth. barely taking any time to break apart for air. “m’almost there—where can i…” he trails off breathlessly, unsure of how to ask in a way that a gentleman would ask but you don’t care, you don’t need him to sound like one, not when he’s fucking you as if he’s never heard the word before.

“inside, y-you can do it inside, please,” you beg with need, curling your legs around his hips and pushing down on his lower back. he shudders, and has a millisecond to want to ask you if you’re sure, but he can’t stop pushing himself inside you, it feels too good, and he’s glad you’re trapping him between your legs, because he never wants to stop.

“sh-shit, i’m cummin’ honey,” he shakily moans in your mouth, struggling to keep his kiss coherent but the way your spent cunt tightens around him makes him lose all sense. you whimper against his lips, feeling hyper sensitive to each and every touch, but the feeling of him cumming inside you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

he slowly pulls out of you, peppering your face with kisses when you make a sound of discomfort. you two lie in a comfortable silence, trying to catch your breaths. you turn to look at each other, and he smiles at you, leaning over to cup your face in his palm. “you okay?” he murmurs softly, running his thumb across your cheekbone. you nod into his touch, holding the back of his hand with yours. “yeah,” you grin. “you?”

he chuckles heartily, and nods as well. “yeah. i’m alright,” he sends a playful wink and you can’t believe that it still manages to make your tummy flutter with butterflies. you suppose he’ll always have that effect on you.

you stare at him for a little longer, testing the waters to see if he’ll stop you as you lift up his arm and scoot closer to him. and when he doesn’t, you smile to yourself while he only pulls you in closer, tightening his arms around you. you can feel his heartbeat against your back, and you’ve never felt more soothed before.

you trace the veins on his strong arm that cradles you into him, your head resting on his other bicep. you don’t want to disrupt the peacefulness that’s settled upon you both, but you have questions that just might do that.

“joel?” you ask and he hums a response. “would you ever want to do this again? or not even this but just…like…hangout?” you unknowingly grip onto his arm with nervousness, and hope that he says yes.

he takes in a breath and you shut your eyes at the impending rejection. “honey,” he starts, and your eyes glisten with tears already. “i don’t know if this is something we should’ve done to begin with—not that i regret it—lord,” he shakes his head, chuckling dryly to himself. “lord knows i don’t regret it. but i don’t know if this is something we could sustain. i want to though, sweetpea trust me that i do,” he tilts your chin towards him, feeling his heart break when he sees your watery eyes looking back at him.

“oh honey,” he sighs sadly, shifting you around so you can look up at him properly. his arms encase you, his warm hand running up and down your back while he pressed gentle kisses to your forehead. “why?” is all you manage to ask and he shuts his eyes, resting his chin on top of your head. “your dad’ll shoot me down and hang my body in front’of the whole neighborhood if he knew. and sarah? i don’t think she’d take kindly to me datin’ her best friend.” you hate that he makes perfect sense and you hate that you sound childish, that you didn’t even take either of those things into consideration.

“we don’t have to tell them—at least not now? and we don’t have to be anything serious, i just…i like being around you.” you softly murmur, feeling pathetic as tears line your lashes once again. he thumbs across them, ridding your eyes of their wetness. “i like being around you too,” he returns your sentiments, leaning down to peck you. it feels gentle, domestic, and you can’t imagine going without more of them.

“i’ll still pick you up after you have class, i still want you to come over for dinner like you usually do, nothin’ has to change and,” he closes his eyes for a beat. “—despite everything i said, i…i don’ know if i could handle not havin’ you around honey, feels like somethin’s missin’ when you’re not around.” he admits, and to himself as well, for the first time.

you bloom with happiness at his words, surging forward to kiss him. he holds you by the back of your neck, tracing circles into your jaw. you hold his face in your hands, pressing kisses along his cheeks, feeling warm all over and when he laughs. it’s filled with a comforting airiness.

he holds your wrist, turning to kiss your palm. he plucks your index finger, bringing it to his lips to kiss gently. “got me wrapped around this little thing,” he says just above a whisper, and your heart aches, overflowing with adoration.

the door suddenly opens downstairs and you both share a look of horror.

“dad? i’m home!”

#joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x female reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #bfd!joel #dbf!joel

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wordstome · 6 months

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your brain holds so many scrumptious thoughts and ideas I absolutely adore reading anything you have to say.

that being said, König and his relationship to god and religion, discuss plz

hold for a second.

I'm standing outside your house with a baseball bat, because what do you MEANNNNNN dumb shit. I won't have you speak that way about these ideas that I like so much!!!

Alright then rolls sleeves let's get into it.

To be totally honest with you, Alexander (my König) just doesn't really think about religion at all. He grew up Catholic, but his family was never really that devout, so to him being Catholic is just something he puts down when forms ask him for religious affiliation. However, since I love some good religious guilt in my men, let's crank his Catholicism up to max.

...sorry, I got distracted by the idea of König in a preacher's collar. Can you imagine a little König in a Catholic schoolboy uniform? Ahhhhhhhhh the aesthetic of Catholicism. So much better than the actual religion. Anyway, do you remember that post "this character believes himself abandoned by God?" I think that's the essence of König's relationship with God. I don't know if you guys remember, but being a kid/teen SUCKS, y'all. I can easily see König going through childhood bullying and adopting a "if God exists, he will have to answer to me" attitude. Later in life I can absolutely see this merging with his anxiety coping mechanism, which is his emphasized confidence and arrogance. I don't think he develops a god complex necessarily, but something adjacent to it. It's actually quite well described in @kaiasdevotion's fic Break My Mind, specifically in chapter 6:

"Frankly, it makes no sense to him. He's killed many, butchered plenty, and murdered countless. Most die quietly, and some die bravely. One bunch dies with honor, a fucking joke of duty they pretend to hold onto. The other bunch, however, dies praying. To a god, to a higher power, to whoever strained voices can reach. But why? Why ask for mercy? Who are you asking? God? But it's him that's holding the weapon, is it not? Is it not König who has burning metal pushed down a bleeding tongue?"

(Kaia, you're brilliant.)

König definitely thinks faith is wasted on God, but true to his upbringing and his anxiety, he has a bad, bad, sense of Catholic guilt. If he felt like a dirty old pervert jerking off to your panties before, he feels even worse about it when his Catholic guilt kicks in. He's kind of absorbed a lot of those ideals about purity and sin, but rather than him caring about his own immortal soul or whatever (he's already done enough shit to constitute being sent to hell, and honestly, sometimes he thinks he's already in hell, so who gives a shit?) he worries about tainting you. As if his own existence in proximity to yours, his unquenchable hunger for your touch will corrupt your very being. He definitely beats himself up for that, but he's also got that demon in him, so it's certainly not going to stop him if you reciprocate.

And speaking of you, I can very easily see König doing the whole Hozier thing where his lover becomes his god. He will worship you, pray to you, and devote his life to you if you let him. The Take Me to Church parallels are obvious: "The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you [...] I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies // I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife // Offer me that deathless death // good God let me give you my life" I think König eventually detaches sinfulness from sexuality, and in fact associates it with virtue. The act of pleasuring his partner is like worship. And it’s a lot more fun than Mass, that’s for sure.

That serves as our segue into Foreigner’s God. Especially observant OGs may have noticed that I used some lyrics from Foreigner’s God as the title of a chapter of Shrike, because it just fit so well. But Foreigner’s God is sooo König (honestly reminds me of @kneelingshadowsalome Fatum Nos Iungebit König)

“She moved with shameless wonder // The perfect creature rarely seen” is just the way König thinks of his lover, very reverent. “Wondering who I copy // Mustering some tender charm” I do think König can and does learn to be charming, but it’s definitely something he learns with age and experience, and it’s still easy for him to be caught off guard and become awkward again when talking to a lady. This is kind of emblematic of his insecurities regarding the way he talks to people.

“She feels no control of her body // She feels no safety in my arms” You could take this line down a very dark yandere path, but for a softer König I tend to interpret it as projecting his own anxiety onto his lover: he’s always going to be some big, (sometimes far older) pervert who doesn’t know how to act or put them at ease with words. He worries that when his lover is with him, it’s always because he’s forced them in some way, and they don’t truly like him or feel safe with him.

“I've no language left to say it // But all I do is quake to her // Breaking if I try convey it // The broken love I make to her” sort of a continuation of both of the above. He finds himself awkward and stoic and not charming at all, but he loves his partner, and he thinks the easiest way for him to convey that is making love to them. Which admittedly he tends to be good at, if not with experience then sheer dedication (his size doesn’t hurt of course).

“Screaming the name of a foreigner’s god” While of course this works for a lover who isn’t Austrian/doesn’t speak German, I think König has definitely felt like a perpetual foreigner, othered by society at several points in his life. His lover is his god. He may be unworthy of them, but he will always be devoted. That’s his own sort of religious fanaticism. It’s like this quote by John Keats, which serves as my tl;dr for this entire post tbh:

“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion—

I have shuddered at it,

I shudder no more.

I could be martyred for my religion.

Love is my religion

and I could die for that.

I could die for you.”

and that’s Königcore as hell.

#thanks for giving me an opportunity to truly go off my rocker writing #i love writing essays about my little fictional men :)#melancholic-thing #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #answered #könig headcanons

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poetryandfluffycats · 21 days

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OKAY. since reqs are open uhm would you write madara cucking kuro plz...

like literally fucking fem!reader getting fucked, kuro's clothed boner pressed to her cheek while he kinda js sits back in shock and doesn't know what to do while mama is fucking her rrroughhhh and is like "you like my cock that much? kuros right there you'll make him angry" and shit. idk DOES THIS MAKE SENSE but yeah 🫶🏻

-🍓anon

A/N: I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE PLOT OMG SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I hope it's too ur liking I may have gone off the rails a little bit....

Pairing: Kuro Kiryu x fem!reader x Madara Mikejima

Content: Madaras into you, everyone and their dog knows that. Only problem is, you have a boyfriend.

Warnings: NSFW, dub-con, slut-shaming, oral sex(f receiving), cuckolding, dry humping, sexual harassment(?), mentions of cheating, established relationship with kuro, ooc madara(?), they're both ooc tbh💀, porn with plot

Words: 2.1k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Have Him Watch?~

It was no secret that Madara had a thing for you. He had made his advances-both romantic and sexual alike-very obvious to you and everyone else, not even hesitating to flirt with you right in front of your own boyfriend, Kuro.

Kuro wasn't the type to let himself fall into petty jealousy, he knew you loved him and that nothing would never change that. Therefore, he hardly batted an eye whenever Madara made another stuipd comment about your body, or when his hands would linger for just a bit too long. It was better to simply ignore him and wait for Madara to get the hint. Kuro knew he was strong, but to pick a fight with Madara? Death wish.

So, he didn't aggravate him in any way, letting the bigger man do this thing until he realised he had no chance with you. Which is why he was confused when Madara cornered him in the gym one day, his teeth gleaming in his signature smirk.

"Kuro! My friend, my pal! Got a minute?" He beamed, slinging his arm around Kuros shoulders and pulling him in close, squeezing so hard you'd think he was trying to suffocate him.

"Uh, I'm a bit busy right now" Kuro pushed him off, dusting himself off and returning his attention to the weights he had been lifting. "Maybe later"

Madara smile didn't waver, if anything it only grew in size. Clearly, he had no interest in leaving anytime soon, not even when Kuro desperately wanted him too. Whatever Madara wanted from him, he didn't have the time for it. Not now, hopefully not ever.

"Ah, cmon! It'll only take a second!" He chirped, plopping down on the bench beside Kuro, crossing his legs and watching as the redhead started his reps. "Hey, working hard or hardly working, am I right? Hahaha~"

"Out with it, Mikejima" Kuro grunted, resisting the urge to smash his weights straight in the mans face. All he wanted was a peaceful workout, was that too much to ask for?

Madara laughed, waving his hand dismissively as if to clear the tension. "Always so blunt, I've always liked that about you y'know!" He grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "So, you and (name), huh? How serious have you gotten with her? Is it marriage?"

Now he was just starting to piss him off. How was this any of his business? Sure, you and Madara were friends, but where did he get off asking for details about your relationship?

"She's my girl, yeah" Kuro answered, praying that his short replies would deter him from the conversation. If that was even possible.

"Right, right. And just hypothetically, if she were to cheat on you, would you be mad?"

Kuro tighten his grip on the weights, his knuckles turning white at the strain. "What are you getting at? You trying to start something?" He said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare in the brunettes direction.

Madara chuckled, putting one hand up in defence and using the other to playfully slap Kuro on the shoulder-a gesture that he did not appreciate, might I add. "Woah! Easy, I don't wanna fight ya! I'm just curious. Hey, maybe you'd let her cheat on you, I don't know what you're into!"

Kuro dropped the weights, the metal making a loud 'clunk' sound as they hit the floor, causing the other members of the gym to look over and stare at the two. Not that he gave a damn, oh no. Not when this clown was making a scene. How dare he suggest you would have an affair? Was he out of his mind?

"What's wrong with you? Of course I'd be mad, what makes you think I'd be cool with that? Get lost man" He spat, shoving him aside as he rose to his feet. The blood rushing through his veins felt as if it was burning as he sped away, not wanting to spend another second with such a fool.

What even was that? Kuro had gotten used to Madaras teasing and loud personality. Hell, he'd even grown to enjoy it to an extent. But this was just insulting. Why was he even saying those things? Did he know something Kuro didn't? Had you....

No, that was silly. You would never be unfaithful, that just wasn't you at all. Yet here he was, images flooding his mind of you tangled in Madaras arms, both of your bodies sticky with sweat and cum as you screamed his name. It was disgusting.

But so, so hot.

Shit.

/-----

You and Madara were friends. It was normal for friends to hang out alone in each other's bedrooms, even if they were the opposite gender, right?

Yeah, of course it was fine! Who were you kidding, it was perfectly acceptable.

You two were good friends, the best of friends! So it was normal for him to hug you, to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and pull you closer. He was a touchy person, after all. It was totally okay for him to nuzzle into your neck and inhale the smell of your perfume, to pepper kisses all over your jawline, to grind his erection against your ass-

Wait a minute.

"H-hey! What are you doing?" You yelped, squirming around in his grasp in a feeble attempt to escape his hold. It didn't matter how close you were, there was no way you'd be comfortable with this!

"What's wrong?" He cooed, your wiggling only seeming to excite him further as he continued his humping. "Friends cuddle all the time! Or are we not friends anymore?"

"This isn't cuddling! This is-ah! This is, oh fuck! This is sexual harassment, you perverted fuck!" You cursed yourself for allowing your voice to crack, letting those dreaded moans spill out like you were some whore who enjoyed this. Which, of course, you didn't! You didn't like it, right? Dammit!

"Sexual harassment, huh? If that's what floats your boat" Madara chuckled, pushing his hands past the hem of your skirt, groping the soft flesh of your thighs.

You squirmed around, hitting at his chest and clawing at his arms. It was no use, damn him and his muscles! In this position all you could do was stand there and take it, because in all honesty, you knew that no amount of protesting would get him to stop. Even of you did get away, it wouldn't be for long, Madara was as stubborn as ever and you knew for a fact that he wasn't afraid to use force to get his way.

You just didn't realize that part of him would ever show itself to you.

"Kuro. Kuro will be home soon, and he'll-ah! He'll kick your ass!" You threatened, snapping your head around to glare at the man behind you. Using Kuro as a form of defence probably wasn't the best idea, but it was your last resort. Begging and trying to fight back certainly didn't work against Madara.

He just laughed. "Maybe we can have him watch"

"What do you-"

A sudden knock at the door cut you off, the familiar voice of your beloved boyfriend coming from behind it. "Uh, (name)? Do you have someone over? Why's the door shut? Can I come in?"

Oh fuck. No!

It suddenly dawned on you just how horrible this would look to Kuro, you pinned against another man with his hands up your skirt? Anyone would think you were a cheating whore! No matter how much you tried to explain the situation, it would still look the same. You had dug your own grave by even letting Madara come over!

Madara pressed his lips to your earlobe, nipping on the soft flesh and whispering lowly, "Do you want me to stop?"

Yes! No! Maybe?

God, why did it have to feel so fucking good?

"Babe? I'm coming in"

"Wait-ah-no! Don't-"

Too late.

The door swung open, the face of your wide-eyed and shocked boyfriend sending a wave of guilt down your spine. He looked at you, then Madara, then you again, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out, only surprised mumbles and stutters.

You honestly couldn't tell if he was angry, sad, confused, aroused, maybe a mix of all three? And it didn't help that you were unaware of what emotions you should have been feeling either. Should you scream for help, or moan in pleasure? Push Madara away or pull him closer?

"Kuro... this isn't..." You started, trailing off when you glanced over the very obvious tent in the redheads jeans. Oh. Oh shit.

So he was aroused by this? What even was this? Some twisted form of roleplay? A fetish that the two men discussed that you didn't know about? Did Kuro actually like this, or was his body reacting subconsciously?

Either way, you didn't have much time to think about it before Madara picked you up from under your thighs and tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll, wasting no time in climbing in between your thighs and nuzzling his nose into your panties.

"Mm~ You smell so good" He purred, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure to your core, a gasp mixed with a whorey moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

The redhead in the doorway cleared his throat, footsteps echoing in the room as he made his way over to where you lay on the bed. He sat down beside you, a hand coming out to gently stroke your cheek. It was a soothing action. One that might have made your heart melt if there wasn't another man currently lapping at your panties like a starved dog.

"Is this okay? I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it first.." He apologised, his face flushed pink and his lips turned upwards into a small smile. "Just tell me if your not enjoying it and I'll kick him out, alright? That's okay?"

You gulped, then nodded, bringing your own hand up to hold his as you squirmed around on the mattress, your mind slowly but surely becoming goo at the pleasure spreading through your veins.

"Ah!- I don't know"- Madara looked up at you with those big brown eyes, choosing that moment to flatten his tongue against your clothed clit, making a show of slurping and smacking his lips together -"f-fuck yes! Oh god, please!"

With consent finally granted, Madara hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in a second and diving straight into the heat of your pussy. He flicked his tongue up and down, side to side, round in circles and everywhere he could possibly reach inside of you.

Anything to make you scream his name, and scream his name you did. You threw your head to the side, falling into Kuros lap, as he brushed over that one spot, a spot that not even Kuro had reached before.

"Shit! Right there! Ah-ha~ Madara" You cried out, wrapping your legs around his head in a death grip, shoving his tongue even further inside you. "So good!"

He pulled his tounge out of your wet hole, opting to swirl and flick it over your clit. You withered and squirmed around on the bed, griping onto the sheets as hard as possible. The knot in your lower belly was starting to build, and both Madara and Kuro could tell. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire under Madaras touch, every inch of your body begging for release.

It just felt so good. So, so, so good-

"Ah-gonna cum!"

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your lips parted and you were panting so heavy you barely had enough breath left in your lungs to moan or even scream. Juices splattered all over the face of the man in between your legs, dripping down his chin as he drank it up like it was the finest wine in the world.

Madara pulled away from your swollen cunt, climbing up onto the bed and hovering above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

"Aren't you a little slut, huh? Getting off on my tongue while your boyfriend watched? You came so quickly, does he not treat you right?" He cooed, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes.

Kuro, who had been dead quiet the whole time, finally spoke up. "You didn't have to be so rough with her" He grumbled, stroking the top of your head.

Madara huffed, a grin tugging at his lips. "She loves it! Don't you know what your own girlfriend likes?" He rolled his eyes before returning his attention back to your blissed-out form. "Ready for more, sweetheart?"

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #enstars #enstars x reader #oneshot #ensemble stars oneshot #ensemble stars smut #enstars smut #writers #madara mikejima x reader #madara mikejima #madara mikejima x reader smut #Madara x reader #kuro kiryu x reader #kuro kiryu #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fanfiction

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ashcal99 · 7 months

Text

Golden Hour : Rosalie Hale~

Prologue

"She's got glitter for skin, my radiant beam in the night. I don't need no light to see you shine. You slow down time in your golden hour."

Summary: By the young age of twenty years old, Grayson Cly had been through his fair share of trauma. Trauma that had left him a single father. Trauma that only grew more complicated when he joined his cousin Sam Uley as a shape shifting wolf. But, what happens when he imprints on the one thing he was born to protect the world from? Can he stick to his instincts when it comes to that protection, or will the persistence of that imprint derail his life even more?

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, general angst, slow burn

Words: 1.2k

A/N: Not sure how many parts this will be but yahhhh. Comment if I missed any warning or anything plz. Lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list thnx.

Soundtrack

Series Masterlist

------------

Grayson had always been mature for his age, taking every shocking thing that came his way with stride. So, when his girlfriend, Evelyn, of three years became pregnant with his child the beginning of their senior year, he promised himself he would be a better father than his had been for him. A father that their child deserved. His life had of course grown more complicated given the baby that grew more and more day by day, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course he was terrified. Terrified of not being enough, terrified of what this meant for not only his future, but Evelyn’s as well. That didn’t stop him from being excited at the end of the day. Deep down, he knew that this was what he was made for, the instinct of being a parent seemingly being born inside of him. So, when the day came that the contractions started, he had felt as prepared as possible, despite the butterflies filling his stomach. He had held her hand throughout the entire labor, her squeezing so hard that he was sure she would end up braking something.

The cry of his son as he entered the world made him the happiest he had ever been in his life. And then everything else shattered around him. Everything was seemingly fine, until the bleeding wouldn’t stop. So much blood. Something was horribly wrong, that much was obvious, and the panic began to set in. There was nothing he could do, but sit back and pray to whatever god there was that the doctor would be able to save her. In the end, his prayers weren’t enough, and what had been the happiest day of his life had quickly also become the worst.

So as he sat there, on the plush worn out cushions of his mother’s couch, just days after loosing the love of his life, he stared into the beautiful eyes of his child. The same eyes that he had gotten from his mother, and he allowed himself to feel the pain of her loss. The pain that left a gaping hole in his chest. Tears pricked at his eyes as he attempted to blink them away, but if there was one thing that he knew now to be true of grief is that it demanded to be felt.

Despite the help his mother had been giving him in his time of need, the same mother who had raised him single handedly, he felt utterly alone in that moment. His heart ached so badly his whole body was sore as he realized that the beautiful child in his arms would never know just how wonderful his own mother had been. He would never feel the warmth of his mothers embrace, never feel the touch of her kiss on his forehead, and the thought sent his brimming tears over the edge.

The big blue eyes of his son blinked up at him curiously as he eyed his father. Footsteps trailed into the room, a soft hand landing on his shoulder, flinching back as she felt the heat radiating off of his skin. “Why don’t you get some fresh air, Gray? You seem a little overheated.” She suggested, concern coating her voice as she gently took the baby from his arms, ushering him towards the back door.

Grayson nodded, sniffling slightly as he moved forward, attempting to wipe the tears away as he pushed his body numbly to the door. A cool summer breeze blew through his hair as he shut the door behind himself, sucking in a shaky breath. The grief stabbed him in the chest, finally having been by himself long enough to feel all of the emotions he had been bottling up since her death. How was he expected to do this alone? Why her? She didn’t deserve to die, why was this world so cruel as to take her away from him?

An agonizing sob left his lips, the memory of her smile running through his mind. A smile he would only ever see again on their son. Sudden anger flooded his heart, anger at whoever had taken the woman he had loved so dearly. Red hot pain seared through every inch of his being as something ripped inside of him. Fire raced across his skin, muscles tearing and growing back together all at once in a moment in time. Seconds morphed into hours of unbearable obliterating pain, before, almost like nothing happened at all, the pain vanished. It had taken a moment to realize anything had actually changed as his eyes trailed down to the ground that was occupied by a very large pair of paws nestled in the tall grass surrounding him, the white fur a stark contrast in the dark green landscape. The anger he had felt just moments ago vanished as it was quickly replaced by shock.

“Don’t panic.” A voice rung through his mind. A voice he recognized. His eyes shot up to the large black wolf in front of him, knowing almost instantly who the figure was. Memories of the Quileute legends rushed through his mind as he realized that despite having learned the stories himself, the memories had been coming from the other wolf, seeing himself as a child within those memories.

Suddenly everything was clear. It was all real, everything, and Sam was right there in front of him, explaining it all. They had grown up together, cousins on his mother’s side, spending hours upon hours together as children, so when the words had come from him, it had fairly quickly calmed the panic that had previously held a tight grip on his chest.

So much had changed in so little time, it was almost as if he had reached his peek. So many emotions had been filling his heart in the past weeks that hearing that the legends were not only real, but included him didn’t set his world on its’ side like it should have. Vampires were real and the fact should have terrified him, but instead, knowing it gave him a sense of purpose. It was his job now to protect his child from the cold blooded monsters and he would be damned if he didn’t put every ounce of effort into doing so.

As the months went on, the pack grew, along with the danger of the blood suckers around them. His newly found brothers created the strongly knit support system that he needed to cope through Evelyn’s death, and even though he knew he would never truly get over the loss that had left a gaping hole in his heart, he would try his best to be okay. To be the father that his son needed. To be the protection that he needed from the evil in this world, because there was no way in hell that he would ever let anything harm him.

Next Chapter -coming soon

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youandtom2 · 2 years

Text

As Wicked As Sin (demon!Tom x nun!reader) 18+

Summary: You have spent your whole life devoting yourself to your faith and God. But it only takes one, sinful night to devote yourself to the devil. Themes: smut, like major major smut, sex in a church with a demon with a breeding kink, what else do you need to know , death, religious PTSD T/W: this is sacrilege, so if you don't like the idea of the devil offending God or Catholicism then this isn't for you. w/c: 8.3k a/n: hi, just me, your friendly horny whore here to say that i spent a lot of time on this and i am very tired. tbh I'll probs edit this again at another point. Please enjoy. Also I am not religious in the slightest but I researched as best as I could so plz don't come for me if I got anything wrong. Again, it's fiction. here for a good time not a long time :D

MASTERLIST

The church bell echoes through the hollows of the building, marking the eleventh hour as you push open the solid, wooden doors with all your might. Behind you, your tunic and your veil drags across the tiled floor, sweeping up the dust of the archaic building while you make your way into the main hall, watched over by the numerous holy statues and shrines. By habit, you look up, letting the architecture emanate its holiness and take your breath away by its sheer size. No matter how many times you enter this church, it never fails to take your breath away.

“En el Nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amen.”

The day is like any other. Temporary living in a monastic community, your duty to your institute and to the Abbess comprises prayer, spiritual learning and devoting yourself to better understanding your divine vocation. You’re half way through your novitiate, and with six months to go before you are called to take your vows, you still have a lot to learn. The eleventh hour is a time for self-reflection; taking the initiative to find your soul and connect it to God without the supervision of your superiors.

Spiritually, your heart finds guidance in the Virgin Mary and your feet carry you up towards the shrine calmly, composed. The closer you get, the sooner you realise that another Sister has already taken prayer in front of her. No matter. You cannot begrudge another for taking the time to pray. Her body lies low to the ground and you can’t figure out who it is, and you don’t want to bother her, but she doesn’t seem to be conducting herself in a proper, respectful way. She’s on her knees but slumped forward, her hidden face grinding into the tiled floor and her limbs are somewhat sprawled. Something’s amiss here.

“Sister?” Her body lacks a response so you rest a cautious hand on her shoulder. “Sister, are you alright?” The second your hand touches her, her body rolls to the floor like a ragdoll, quickly revealing her face. You take one look at her before you let out an ear-piercing scream and the sound carries further than the church bell could. It’s Sister Magda. But instead of the kindly face you see near enough every day, the deathly stare of her blood-ridden eyes holds you captive. Something sinister has consumed her and her washed-out skin is stained with dark crimson blood, crying from her eyes, leaking from her nose and flowing into a river on her cowl. She’s dead, and although a terrifying sight to behold, it isn’t what scares you the most. This is surely the sadistic work of an evil force, a subject you know very little of.

“Help! Anyone help!” You scream, your voice already wearing thin. “Please! Anyone!”

A black cloud of nuns come hovering into the hall filtering their way through the pews, their eyes widening at the horror before them. Your superior, Sister Maria is the first to reach you and you’re already desperately pleading your case before she has the chance to investigate. The others flock around Sister Magda, whispering quiet appeals to the Lord and signing the cross over their own chests.

“I don’t know what happened! I swear, I just found her like this! She…she’s dead, Sister, I…I--”

“Breathe, child, breathe. It’s alright.”

As you cling onto the shoulder of Sister Maria, there seems to be a silent conversation shared amongst the other Sisters, one you’re oblivious to. Their silence over such a tragedy has your heart stopping dead in your chest and it leaves you questioning why they aren’t in such a state of mourning like you are.

The loss of Sister Madga is a hurtful one, being one of the very few Sisters that you sought comfort in when times became hard. She understood you more than anyone, coming from a strict religious family like yourself whose father used to scare her with the threat of demons and how your sins would feed them, and like with any stray animal, they would always come back for more. You were so frightened of doing anything that your father, or God, didn’t permit. The fear of demons became more of a motivator in your monastic journey than your own faith in God, and it was Sister Magda that empathised with you and guided your purpose towards the brighter light.

Now that you suspect an evil force has claimed Sister Magda, you feel like your world has come crumbling down around you.

“Oh Lord in Heaven have mercy on us. It’s happening. Sister Maria, we have to get her out of here.” Her? You turn towards them and they’re staring at you. Oh God. They mean you.

“What’s happening?!” You cry, but no one gives you the straight answer you’re looking for.

Before anyone is allowed the chance to speak, an inexplicable rumble of rock and concrete thunders around the room, subjecting the church to a small earthquake and you blindly reach out for safety and stability.

“It’s too late. The prophecy has already begun, she’s part of it now.”

“But she’s only a novice!” They beseech, seemingly on your behalf. You have no idea what they’re talking about. Prophecy? What prophecy? Part of what? Why is no one telling you what’s going on?

“This demon works in the cruellest of ways. He waits for no one. We have no option, Sisters. Quickly, we must pray.” Your stomach churns as Sister Maria confirms your hypothesis with that one singular word. Demon. The bile rising in your throat stings and burns off any waiting words. With just one word, a childhood of trauma floods your mind, images of your father berating you as you confess your sins and you can’t blink them away knowing that he warned you of this. Somehow, he knew this was going to happen. Were you not good enough? Had you not vowed enough of yourself to God? Did you not spend enough time in church?

The Virgin Mary statue before you topples precariously from side to side, losing its balance as a crack snakes its way up the middle, moving of its own volition in whatever direction it pleases until, just seconds later, the pristine image of her holiness shatters to the ground. Sister Maria does her best to catch you as you slump against her, numb with the terror that paints your skin a horribly pale colour. Whatever’s coming, whoever’s coming, there isn’t anything from your six months of novitiate that can protect you from the dreaded evil force.

Leaving Sister Magda’s body in her final resting place, the Sisters quickly scamper, coordinating themselves throughout the space of the church with faces painting no other emotion than the terror that riddles your own. Promptly, they settle themselves onto their knees, clasp their hands together and bow their heads. You see their lips moving, and although you can’t hear what they’re saying, you recognise the shape of the words of prayer as they quietly whisper to themselves with God as their witness.

“Sister Maria, please! What’s going on?” Frustratingly, she ignores your question and grabs hold of your forearms, a desperation in her tight grip. The rumble grows in intensity, the shards of the Virgin Mary rattling at your feet.

“You have to listen to me. No matter what happens, it is imperative you keep your eyes closed and whatever you do, do not stop praying. May God have mercy on your soul.”

Sister Maria escapes your clutches to find a space of her own, following her own orders and all too soon, she’s praying with the same desperation. Quivering, you can’t find the power in your own body to move. Wrecked by panting breaths, you weakly turn, prop yourself up onto your knees, clasp your shaky hands together, and close your eyes with Sister Magda’s bloodied corpse being the last thing you see. When your mind clears just a little, the well-rehearsed words of prayer whisper from your lips.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven…”

When the cacophony reaches its loudest, a white burst of light emits within the church, bright enough to burn through your lids, and although you can’t fathom its source, you know you can’t let it distract you from praying. You can’t open your eyes. You won’t open your eyes. You don’t want to face the same fate Sister Magda did. You’re not ready to face your fears.

Your confidence in faith is restored when the light begins to dim and the rumble reduces to a tremor. The sound of falling dust and cracking stone descends into silence until all that is left is the small, wavering whispers of the Lord's prayer. You think it’s over, you think you’ve won. The power of eight devout nuns sanctifying themselves in a holy place of worship appears to be working against this demon. But like Sister Maria warned, you cannot stop praying, no matter what happens.

But then you feel it; a small breeze, blowing straight through your tunic to pierce your body like ice to the skin. On a hot summer’s day, a breeze as cold as this should be impossible, it’s almost arctic. As it whirls around the church, it carries a whistle, low and hollow.

“Our Father, who art in h-heaven…” Shivers shake you as you repeat the Lord’s prayer for the second time. “Hallowed be thy name--”

“‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven’. I love that you think a few meaningless words can keep me away.”

Two voices dance in a choreograph around the church. One has all the characteristics of a human’s; deep, smooth and carries the tone of a man, but the other that’s laced to it is darker, raspier, clipped and off-kilter, almost incomprehensible to the human ear. Two very different voices, but only one mind. One of a demon’s.

The sudden presence of the demon’s voice silences yours, rendered completely frozen that something, or someone, has materialised directly in front of you. You can’t even begin to imagine what form he presents himself in. Your father claimed that demons take many forms, each of a different purpose; to scare, to lure, to trick, to hide, and what makes them so dangerous is that it’s impossible to tell their motive. You’ve seen and heard of so many different depictions of demons, all inconsistent to one another so there’s no telling that what stands in front of you now, has ever been seen before. And you won’t ever know. All hope is not lost if you just keep your eyes closed and don’t stop praying.

“...And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil.”

The sound of his sweeping tread descends down the steps of what used to be the Virgin Mary shrine and your hands clasp tighter. He’s getting closer and closer…

“My sweet Sisters, nothing can stop temptation. I, Tom, elder of the House of Holland, am temptation, I am evil, I cannot be stopped. The prophecy forbids it.”

Whatever tactic you used to block out his voice before fails you the more he continues to speak. It easily drowns out your own, hushing out the prayer and fills it with his unholy words, as if he’s speaking from the depths of your mind and you’re forced to stop and listen. It’s tuneful, fluid, rolling like a wave and it drags you along in its tide before inevitably drowning in it.

It’s then you realise the true purpose for continual prayer, it’s not permission for God’s protection, it’s to block him out.

“Our…our Father, who a-art in heaven--”

“Mmmm, fresh meat.” The demon’s voices, both human and demonic, rumble closely to your ear. “I bet you’ve never seen a demon before. Don’t you want to see? Don’t you want to give into temptation and open your eyes?”

“Don’t do it!” Sister Maria cries out, hysterical as she knows how little prepared you are for the danger you face.

“You’re not real,” you whisper, in denial. “Our Father, who art in--” A warm, firm hand curls around your shoulder, your prayer interrupted by a whimper of fear. The touch to your shoulder spreads warmth around your body, subjected to a feverish sweat and a small droplet rolls down your back. Your failed attempt of prayer doesn’t reach further than the second verse when he speaks again.

“I’m very real. Open your eyes and see.”

“No!” You’re sobbing now and praying has long gone from your priorities. All that remains is the memories of your father yelling at you to repent your sins, ordering you to confess to keep the demons away while you cry uncontrollably, much like the way you are now. “Father, I’m so sorry.”

“Ahh, I see it now. Daddy always warned you about me, didn’t he? I bet he told you that I could eat your soul unless you cleanse yourself of your sins. He had you confessing and repenting day in and day out until you were spilling your deepest darkest secrets. But what for?”

He saunters behind you, dragging a finger from your shoulder, over the nape of your neck until it finds rest on the other side.

”I could still eat your soul should I choose to, but I’m not here to hurt you, little nun. In fact, I’m here to do the exact opposite…”

“W-What?”

“Don’t listen to him! He’s trying to trick you! Pray, Sister, pray!”

Blackness consumes your sight and mind; your own conscience falls silent and the words of prayer that have been ingrained in you since you were a child slowly fade. But how? You knew it like the back of your hand. You could recite it in three other languages; knowledge that was passed down from your father to safeguard you from hell, but now that you kneel in the presence of this demon, something that was part of your everyday routine has just slipped your mind.

You feel the light traces of a finger tip tilting your chin upwards and his shadow lines your lids, giving you only a slight indication of where he stands in the room. His coercion is like an ear-worm, crawling its way into your head and infecting it with not only his own voice, but others too. ‘Open your eyes.’ It’s Sister Maria’s voice, tender and caring. ‘Open your eyes.’ Suddenly it’s Sister Magda, gone but never forgotten. Her words were always a comfort to you. ‘Open your eyes.’ An older voice reaches you. It’s your mother, speaking from beyond the grave and you almost crumble. ‘Open your eyes.’ Your younger sister, the only one rebellious enough to reject your father’s method of parenting and she became an outcast because of it. You wish you were more like her. ‘Open your eyes.’ No. Anyone but him. The strict, authoritarian voice of your father digs deeper than the ones before him and hearing his demands condition you into obeying.

̴̯̻̙̂͆͌̐͘O̶̧̫̣͕͋͐̾͘P̴͓̭̺͎͒̊͆̀E̵̙͔̺͔̅͆͠N̶̨̢̺̿ ̴̤̾͆͋̚Y̶̡̢̫̰̑͘̕͜͝O̶̡͍̰͇̹͑U̸̡̗̗̺͋͐̽̽Ȓ̸̤̥̇ ̵̧̼̠͐̓̆͠E̷̥͒͒̃Y̸̛͚̰̎͜ͅË̴̖͉̥̖͙Ś̵̠͇̗̄̈̚̕

Light floods in as you blink your eyes open, caving in to temptation. Standing before you with his finger still curled under your chin is the demon, but he’s not at all what you expected to see. Of all the demon recreations you’ve seen in your lifetime, none of them hold a spot of resemblance to what is actually standing in front of you. Where you expected to see red, slimy scales is actually a golden wash of warm skin adorning a human body, bare from the waist upwards. Hugging his waist are straight, creaseless black trousers. The long, draping material hangs from his hips, elongating his height as they hide his bare feet scuffing across the floor.

Every breath he takes accentuates his lean and chiselled body and it’s mesmerising watching how his muscles tense under his skin. You should really divert your stare, succumbing to indecency was an act of immorality according to your father. Abstinence was the one true way of devoting your body and soul to God but this demon makes abstinence seem unreasonable, especially when he exhibits himself like this. It would be a complete waste.

Breaking, your virgin eyes lift higher to see dark, chocolate eyes staring back at you, creasing with the widening smirk that reveals his pearly white teeth, lacking the fangs you expected to see. A soft bed of curls hangs candidly over his eyes, brown and shiny. You have to admit that, for a demon, he’s visually stunning as the sun paints him in an ethereal light, and if you were none the wiser, you would think he is a holy entity, come to bask in the glory of his worshippers.

The irony of it all has you questioning everything your father has told you about demons. They aren’t scaly creatures with horns and a pointed tail. They don’t spit fire with every word. They aren’t rabidly trying to consume your soul. The fact that he isn’t doing any of those things triggers your curiosity. He’s so alluring that sacrilegious thoughts flood your mind, the kind that would have your father rolling in his grave, the kind that would make him tell you that God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit were to be the only source of satisfaction in your life, and nothing else. That included you too.

“There you are,” he speaks seductively. “What a precious little thing you are--”

“Stay back, you evil demon!” Sister Maria yells, a slight grumble to her throat. The demon pans his attention over to your superior who’s coming to a stand with a wooden cross clenched tightly in her fist. Unlike you, her eyes remain closed.

“Now now, Sister Maria. Don’t be so bitter. Not everyone gets chosen.”

“Chosen? Chosen for what? Sister Maria--”

The demon’s satirical laughter echoes around the church, bouncing off every stained-glass window and concrete wall. “Oh, she doesn’t know? Sister Maria, shame on you for calling me evil, but I think you are the real evil here,” he mocks.

You swivel yourself around to face Sister Maria, her bottom lip quivering. You’ve never seen her so helpless before. She was always the face of bravery in the community, always sharing her wisdom to guide the lost. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but even with her eyes closed, guilt isn’t a good look on her.

While you keep your stare on Sister Maria’s crumbling bravery, the demon behind you crouches to rest his hands on your shoulders, his lips hanging low next to your ear. A scent so delicious seeps into your nose, it almost has your eyes rolling. “You see, little nun, for life to exist there must be balance. Good and Evil, life and death, Heaven and Hell. And your God didn’t like being equal. Not one bit. Especially to someone like me. But despite how much he hated it, I realised that even two worlds apart, he and I are actually quite alike. Both a sucker for gluttony and power, only he was willing to threaten the balance of life and began taking what was rightfully mine, stealing my souls, converting them and building his power and I thought that was rather selfish of him. It was only fair I did it back and so the cycle continued for centuries until the balance of life hung by a single thread. So we vowed to a treaty: every one hundred years, He condemns a life of his own to hell…” He turns your head towards Sister Magda, blood beginning to dry. She was too kind to deserve hell. Calmly, he reaches out a hand towards her and like the snow under the sun, her body fades away and her soul is claimed.

Blackness fills his sclera when he turns back to you, cavernous and haunting.

“But in return, I must give a life back.”

“You can resurrect the dead?” You ask.

“I could but where’s the fun in that? No, no, little nun, I give back life in a very different way, one that your idiot God never anticipated.” His arm comes to encircle around your hips, pressing a flat palm across the expanse of your stomach and you feel a spark of adrenaline. ‘Give a life’, he said. The gears wind and the cogs turn until it comes to you.

Give a life. Not to the dead, but to the unborn. He means to impregnate.

His eyes fade into an autumn brown. “Rather prescient, don’t you think? How you and little Annie Madga’s life bear such a resemblance to each other, as if everyone knew what was going to happen to you, how your lives were shaped around God as if that would protect you from me.” The revelation stops you breathing. All this time, you were pinned from birth, both you and Sister Magda, raised by strict but protective fathers, forcing you into a monastery in the hopes that the prophecy wouldn’t come true, and it is the reason you connected so well with each other. You were lambs for slaughter. “But it is written. A vow from the divine cannot be broken. So it will be done.”

“Sister Maria…” you plead, searching for answers from her like you’ve done before. “Please tell me it isn’t true.”

She doesn’t respond right away and that alone gives you your answer. Nothing more needs to be said, but alas the words you dread slip from her lips. “I’m sorry. It’s what the Lord above wants!”

“She gave you up.” A gentle, masculine voice funnels into your ear. It’s his, but it’s so…enchanting. “She just wanted to save her own skin. She doesn’t care what happens to you. It only matters if she gets to live another day.”

“You gave me up,” you echo back to her. “You gave me up and you gave Sister Magda up too and now she’s dead. You knew this was going to happen and you never told us!”

“W-We didn’t want you to be in fear, dear child, we just wanted you to find hope and love through God. He will protect you!”

“Such deception. God won’t protect you. He sacrificed you and Annie Magda to me. Your life is in my hands now. Give yourself in to me.” He sounds so convincing, lulling you into a sense of security and you can’t find it in you to doubt him.

“I’ve given up most of my life, my freedom to God, and what has He done for me? Sacrificed me? Was I not good enough for Him?”

“Don’t listen to him, Sister. Remember the Lord’s prayer, keep that close to you.”

“He can’t look after you anymore, but I can. I can give you everything you want. Give in to me.” Your veil is stolen from you, revealing your hair. You pay no mind to his wandering hands as you keep your gaze on Sister Maria, the sight of her bringing about an unprecedented anger that boils in your chest. You’ve never felt anger like this before, never had such a fiery resolve disease you so quickly and it doesn’t feel like you. But right now, you’d do anything to spite Sister Maria.

You should be shaking in fear of the demon roaming his hands all over you, shedding you of your religious habit piece by piece, burying his nose deep into your hair, your neck, whispering and serenading you with his presence, but you aren’t. It’s the only comfort you feel in your fit of fury. The bounds of your religion begin to break.

He’s shown you nothing but soothing hands, and it’s those same captivating hands that turn you towards him and by the time your eyes meet, you're under his spell. A foggy haze blinds you of rational thinking, leaving you with no fear about sinning and condemning your belief, and giving into him suddenly seems like a paradise.

Sister Maria tries one last time to get through to you. “Sister--”

G̵̠̎̉I̸̢̱͈̼͖̓͛V̴̤̘̳̼̰͗E̴̻͙͛̔̅̇ ̵̧͍͕̀I̸̛͔̺̒̇̄N̵̩̐͝ ̷̘̯͔͙̆͊̉̀̅T̴̫͈̺̩͐͆O̵͖̥̜̝̊́͘ ̸̲̫̉͑͠M̶̧̬̘̀͊̕Ȩ̵̲̳̈̊̾̕

But it’s too late. Your fate has already been laid out for you.

“I…give in.”

“To who, little nun. Say my name.”

“To you, Tom, elder of the House of Holland.”

“Good girl,” he whispers darkly. “This is going to be so much fun.” He moves to cradle your head, warm hands supporting the weight of your jaw and with a fleeting glance to your lips, he kisses you. You’ve never kissed anyone before so the moment his lips touch yours, the outside world is forgotten. Instantly, you forget you’re in a holy place. You forget about everything that’s pure and whole, throwing away your divine vocation and abandoning everything you’ve learned over the last six months. It’s sacrilege to its highest degree; martyring yourself to this demon in front of an army of nuns and many variations of Christ’s likeness painted onto the ceilings and windows.

Betrayal never felt so good.

The kiss deepens, his tongue breaching past your lips with ease and you willingly open up to him. Promiscuity runs ragged in your head, sending signals to your body that refuse to be ignored and this demon seems to hear them just as well as you do.

“Will you give yourself to me?”

You shouldn’t, but your lips rashly speak before you stop them. “I will.”

“Will you pledge your heart, body and soul to me?”

“I will.”

A hand rests on your stomach again. “Will you serve me and bear what is mine?”

“No! Sister, you’re making a grave mistake!”

E̶̡͝N̷̝͙̋O̷̲̞̊U̷͑ͅG̵̺̹̅̾H̶̜̀ͅ!̴̯̥̚

The demon waves a hand and you watch with wide eyes as Sister Maria’s body flies through the air, colliding with the large pillar by the main door and immediately knocking her unconscious. The other Sisters scatter, running before they too become a victim of the demon’s wrath. A gasp escapes you and in a moment of clarity, you feel the urge to go and run to her, but the demon’s hold on you is too tight to let you go.

“Leave her,” he coos, sweeping away your hair and kissing your neck. Soft, pillowy lips roam your neck and the second your eyes close, Sister’s Maria’s unconscious body slips your mind and you’re back under his spell. “She’s only ever lied to you, I’ve been the one to show you the truth, so tell me, little nun. Will you serve me and bear what is mine?”

“I…I will.”

The demon, Tom, slithers away from you, walking back towards the lectern that stands in front of the crucifixion of Jesus above the altar. He leans against it, his abs tensing and his mouth smiling. The sight is delicious and it’s begging you to fall into temptation yet again.

“Come to me,” he demands with the curl of his fingers. Without a second thought, you begin crawling towards him in what remains of your undergarments, stopping just at the base of the lectern. He admires the look in your eyes, gazing up at him as if he is the only light in your life and how you convey an innocence that says you’re willing to do anything for him.

“Have you ever had cravings? Desires?”

“I’ve…I’ve always wondered what alcohol tastes like.”

He laughs heartily, holding his stomach and tilting his head back. Heat floods your cheeks. “Do they teach you to be this naive? No, little nun, I don’t mean like that. I mean…” His hand cups your cheek gently, staring straight into your soul. “Have you ever had dirty thoughts, thoughts so filthy that you just can’t help but slip your fingers into your tight, little cunt and fuck yourself until your screaming.”

Every crude, vulgar word is like a hit to your chastity. Normally you would wince at their sound but in his voice, they’re words of a poem. What is he doing to you?

You answer honestly, truthfully. “I’ve…I haven’t done anything like that. It--It was forbidden.”

“What is it with you prudes that always forbid fun things?” A revelation glosses over his eyes, his mouth widens. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you? You’ve never had anyone fuck you before…and yet here you are consenting to be defiled by me, to take my seed and bear the offspring of a demon. My, my, you must be a curious, wanting thing.”

“I…I…” Why can’t you say no? Why do you not want to?

“Well let’s not waste any more time. Here’s how this is going to go, little nun, since you are a follower of rules. You do everything I say. You forget about what the church and Daddy has taught you because when we’re done, his skin will crawl when he won’t be able to recognise his daughter when she’s all whored out and dumb for my cock. I’ll do whatever I want to you and I’m not going to stop until you are full and round with my seed. And I get to do it with God and Jesus as witnesses and I can’t fucking wait.”

Your chest is heaving, glistening with sweat as lust consumes you. It’s exhilarating and you decide that you’re ready, so with an aching whimper and a determined nod, you hand yourself over to him.

“Strip.”

You’re already peeling off your undergarments before you come to a full stand, clumsily ripping the material at the seams as you drag it from your body. The alien sensation of having cold air swirl around your naked form takes your breath away. Tom grins wickedly at the sight; unblemished skin waiting to be marked and branded by him. But he spots it, the small, dainty cross chained around your neck, the one your mother gave you, and his expression drops like an anchor, changing to something far more sinister. Within a blink of an eye, he snatches it and the chain breaks, the small cross burning in a contained fire in the palm of his hand.

He cocks a brow. “You won’t need that anymore. You’re on the side of the devil now. Now strip me.”

The old, royal blue carpet burns your knees while you obey his command, and within seconds you set sight on him, and fuck, you’ve never seen a more unholy sight. Smug and borderline arrogant, the demon watches for your reaction while you unveil his cock, girthy and bobbing under its weight. It lies within inches of your face, and he asks you of the unfathomable.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” he commands, his voice becoming deep and throaty. Unceremoniously, he spits into your mouth and it almost sears your tongue but you refrain from moving. Grappling onto the underside of your chin, he coaxes you towards his cock and slides it into your mouth until the tip reaches the back of your throat where you fall into a fit of gurgles and involuntary gagging.

You don’t miss the little reminder from your subconscious that you haven’t done this before, and instead of fretting over it, you disregard it immediately as lust takes over, guiding your movements. Taking what you can of him in your mouth, your hand pleases the rest, sensually driving your hand over his length while your mouth sucks on his head.

“Aw, are you struggling?” He speaks within your head again, as if he heard your subconscious talking to you. For all you know, it’s likely that he did. “I can help with that.”

Two firm hands claw their fingers through your roots, nails digging deep into your scalp in an ardent massage and the smallest of whimpers bubbles through. You lose control of your movements as the coveted demon above you arduously fucks your mouth. After only a minute, you’re most likely bruised, scratched and burned but it’s all a pain that you eventually learn to brave. A minute later, it’s a pain you learn to love.

Drool dribbles down your chin and drips onto the carpet. “Oh making a mess in God’s house, eh? How sinful of you. Let’s make more.”

Your hands lay flat upon his thighs, pushing away while he pulls you in and smothers every chance of you being able to breathe. He bobs your mouth so vigorously up and down his cock that you’re almost sick with vertigo and the feeling of being repeatedly gagged. But of course, he laughs wickedly at your expense and the sound of his rhythmic chuckle buzzes around you before it morphs into something more salacious. Groaning and moaning, you can just hear the undertones of the darker voice rumbling louder until it descends into something primal. The vibrations run like liquid gold through your veins and you yearn for more of the feeling.

“Shit, that mouth. Stick out your tongue for me.” Tom grabs ahold of his cock and balances it on the tip of the muscle, feeling every intricate twitch of it. He merely uses you as a toy, thrusting himself so that your tongue tastes every inch of him, right until your lips suckle on the base of his cock.

This is insidiously profane. One glance to your left you see Christ’s eyes staring down at you from the stained-glass window and just for a second, you begin hating yourself. You swear you can feel the judgement radiating from those motionless eyes, and what you previously thought was a look of hope is now a look of censure. How could you have given in so easily?

Tom can sense your regret and takes matters into his own hands. He calls your name, how he knows it - you’re not sure, but it immediately grabs your attention. “Eyes up here.” His cock slips abruptly back into your mouth again but this time, he’s more in control of himself and it allows you to taste more. There’s a bitter-sweet saltiness to him. “Remember who it is you’re on your knees for. It’s not him - wider - he’s on the side of the selfish God that never cared about you - fuck - the same God that killed Annie Magda, that gave you up to me. They abused your loyalty.” You inhale a breath when he finally releases you, coughing and spluttering and wiping away the mess around your lips. His dark eyes invade your sight, even through the blurriness of tears, and tilts your head up. “But I won’t. Unlike Him, I reward loyalty, and my sweet, innocent nun, you are in for a treat.”

As much as it pains you to admit, he is right. Never in a million years did you expect to be agreeing with a demon, but he speaks nothing but the truth. And with a simple reminder as to why you exiled yourself from your own faith, the nerves that flutter in your stomach now flutter with excitement. It fuels your heart, beating louder and harder while you are subject to this demon’s manipulation, carrying you and bending you over the table of the altar with a crash. One easy flicker of the eyes sees Jesus on the crucifix just a couple of metres ahead of you.

And you’re about to be fucked by a demon right in front of him.

You twist your head over your shoulder to see Tom standing directly behind you, vigorous hands gripping your hips. For the first time in what seems like hours, you eventually find your voice. “What are you going to do to me?”

“So many dirty, filthy things, little nun.”

“Like…like what?”

He tilts his head and considers you for a moment. Wow, he thinks. You really are that naive. A sly smirk graces his lips because he’s decided that he too can indulge in naming every way he’s going to defile you.

By the nape of the neck, he pulls you up against him, your back colliding with a wall of solid muscle. You feel the feather-light touch of his lips dance around the shell of your ear, his breath funnelling straight down to your eardrum. “I’m going to do what no one else has done before, not even you,” he whispers, stopping only to kiss beneath your ear. “I’m going to explore your body, inside and out. There isn’t going to be one bit of you left untouched. Not. One. Bit.” Right on cue, his hands slither down your figure, hugging every curve, dip and hill until he finds your tits, perked and pebbled. He rolls your nipples in between the pads of his fingers and in doing so, plucks the nerves that are tied to your pussy. “I’m going to tease you, make you want what you can’t have unless I permit it, and when I do, if I do, you’ll be begging for me to stop. You’ll be making so many pretty sounds; crying, screaming, begging, and all the little moans and whines I know you’re capable of.” He pinches hard and you buckle with a short, curt yelp that verifies his promise.

“I’ll stretch you out in any way I please. Oh fuck, I’m just thinking about how tight your cunt is going to be, how you are going to have your cunt shaped and moulded by my cock that it can’t ever be filled by anyone else, only me. Your body will shake and quiver around me while I fuck you until you can’t fucking walk anymore.” His fingernails puncture your skin. He’s becoming inpatient as he lists the unavoidable. You swallow thickly thinking he’s finished, but when his forehead grinds against your temple, you realise you are so wrong. “You thought you were born to serve God? You’re wrong, you were made to serve me and I’ll do anything I please. I can’t wait to see you dripping with my seed but know this, little nun--” Sharp teeth bite onto your lobe. “I will replace every wasted drop until you are full to the brim.”

“Fuck.”

“That word sounds so delicious in your voice. Say it again.” To entice you, he sucks on the skin of your neck.

“Fuuuuck.”

“Put your hand between your thighs for me, and tell me what you feel.”

“I’m…I’m wet.”

“Perfect. I think I might just have a taste.”

Panic splinters through you. “A taste--what? Oooohhh my God! Fuck!”

Ass cheeks spread wide, Tom slots himself deep between them until his hot, wet tongue meets with your pussy and an explosion of something intoxicating happens inside you. You’re not quite sure what it is yet, but you are slowly becoming entranced by it.

It’s the sensation of the wet muscle pulsing inside of you that nearly shatters your sanity. It prods and pokes, rabidly trying to push its way into your tight, untouched hole. With force, the pointed tip of his tongue slides in and you think it’s just a warning for what’s to come, but when his tongue grows inside you, reaching to inhuman lengths and skims your cervix, you completely and utterly fall apart.

His lips are latched, stubborn as they create a seal around your cunt and suck you into him. All manner of expletives fall from your lips as you try to find a way of coping with the mind-numbing sensation of his amorous tongue invading your inner body. It doesn’t help at all. Nothing can help you survive against it wriggling inside you, caressing every wall and breaking boundaries you didn’t know existed.

Your knees buckle and crumble beneath you, being overwhelmed by the instinct to curl into themselves for protection, but by the sheer strength of the demon behind you, you go absolutely nowhere. His hands land a powerful slap against your cheeks as a small punishment.

“Holy mother of f-f-fuck, how - ah - how is this real?”

Finally, after a few earth-shattering minutes, his tongue slowly retracts, brushing against every nerve with generosity and licks up any traces of your slick as it drips down your thighs.

“I told you. I’m going to explore your body; inside and out.”

With too many dormant nerves being shocked to life, you try to pull your hips forward, almost mounting onto the altar, however it is like trying to take a drug away from an addict. The burning desperation of his hands grappling your hips make you wince, having little to no option but to follow his every movement like you are his puppet. Involuntarily, you deliver your cunt back to him and he holds back no reservations; nuzzling his lips and tongue against your clit, furiously flicking it back and forth, becoming an expert of your body and creating the stimulation he knows will break you in a matter of moments.

His hand snakes around and presses against your lower abdomen. Words that aren’t your own echo in your head and very quickly you recognise his wicked tone. Strangely, as he talks, his lips don’t stray from your cunt and his voice remains within the walls of your mind. “You feel that heat in your stomach? You feel it growing and growing, so close to snapping?”

“Yes! Ohhhh.” You jerk forward as he suckles on the little bud that’s adding to build up in your abdomen.

“It’s your first orgasm, ready and waiting for me. Let go of it, let it take over you and don’t fight it.”

“How!?”

“You’ll know.”

It’s a total shock to your system. Your entire body seizes as the feeling Tom described ripples through you from the tips of your burning ears to the tight curl of your toes, rendering your body completely spent as it flops against the wooden table of the altar. Regardless, true to his wicked nature, Tom doesn't stop. The orgasm gets tighter and grows more intense the longer he refuses to relent and it’s a harsh torment amongst the unprecedented pleasure.

You cry out for salvation. “Please!” It goes unheard, as does the hiccup of your sob. “It’s too much. Ah!”

After many hopeless pleads and begs, he eventually, thankfully, eases his attack, reducing his fiery lust to slow sweeps and nuzzling kisses to the cunt that gave him all that he desired. The cramp in your twitching thighs eases and you switch to relying on the table to keep you upright.

In a trice, Tom boldly ventures upwards, teasing a squeal from you when he licks over your pursed hole, stopping to tease before journeying up the line of your spine. Still recovering, you lack the energy to move even as the demon behind you tugs you up, curling his hand around the column of your neck to hold you hostage in a chokehold. Just as violently as before, he snags your lips, sensually driving his tongue to brush over yours, tangy with the remnants of your slick. You don’t think you can ever get over the whirlwind of excitement when you hear that dark chuckle of his, especially when you moan into him because he knows how much you're indulging in his wickedness.

He presses his full body weight against you, hot, hard and demanding.

“I think we’re putting on quite a show for them.” Tom looks up towards the Jesus statue and smoulders. “They should count themselves lucky.”

“Maybe they might get jealous.”

Tom stops to look at you, shocked but pleasantly amused. To some extent, you are too, but you’re already marked for hell, what more harm would aggravating the holy spirits do that you haven’t already caused yourself?

“Tell me, little nun, why would they be jealous?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway.

“Because I don’t belong to them anymore. I belong to you.”

Aroused, Tom’s hand squeezes tighter, just enough to leave you gasping. “Yes you do. And I’m going to fuck you like you’re mine. Take a deep breath, little nun, you’re going to need it.”

You don’t understand why until he’s squeezing every inch of his cock into you, and all the air in your lungs gets wasted into a scream, crying out in unbearable pain as he mercilessly tears through you. The pain is hot and tight, scoring through your nervous system that you can’t move any other part of your body in fear of exacerbating it.

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? How can anyone enjoy this?

After a slight struggle, Tom completely fills you. There’s a slight stutter to each of your breaths; suffocation in two very different forms.

“Ugh, fuck! So…fucking…tight. I can barely move, little nun, you’re killing me.”

In time, you overcome the pain, thankful it takes this demon more than a minute to acclimate to the tight squeeze of your cunt around his cock, just enough time for that haunting blackness to consume his sclera again, spreading through the veins around his eyes and it’s truly a demonic sight. He grinds his molars together, rabidly growling like a wild animal yearning to be fed and soon morphs into something a little closer to what you expected a demon to be like. He ruts and thrusts like he’s unbound by self-control, desperately chasing after something he can easily obtain, but the chase is where the fun lies. The animality in him drives him to sink his teeth into the supple, sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and licking every mark he leaves behind. He doesn't relent until you are well and truly branded with his signature.

Branded by a demon.

Your slick lines him, wet enough to also tame the burn inside you but sadly, there isn’t anything to tame the burn of the red, hot skin of your ass. He whips his hips so harshly against you, you can feel the redness oozing over your ass.

“Oh God, it hurts so much!”

“But it feels so good. You feel so good, fuck. Why don’t we have a little more fun, eh?”

There’s no time to answer. Tom easily lifts you, swivelling you around and sitting your red ass onto the altar, legs wrapped around his waist. He wastes no time in slotting his cock back into you, pumping just as rigorously as before and you descend into a mania. New position, new angle, new pace, new sights, it’s all overstimulating. Your head falls back onto the velvet table cover and your eyes flutter to a close--

“Not a fucking chance. I want you to watch.” Yanked forward by the scruff of your hair, your chin digs deep into your chest where a small whimper bubbles, and you are subjected to watch his cock disappear and reappear in a fine, fluid movement. The repetition is somewhat mesmerising, like it’s brainwashing you into becoming addicted to the sight.

Suddenly, Tom’s finger, slight and careful, rests gently against your bundle of nerves and twitches precariously. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you follow his every move, hooked on the small but powerful electrical buzzes that his touch causes. A shockwave ripples up your spine at his touch.

“Oh my God, what was that?”

“Your most sensitive part, little nun. I’m gonna have a little fun with it.”

His eyes peers over your shoulder and you shiver at the mischievous twinkle in his black eyes. He wears evil so well it amazes you that you’re still able to recognise when he has something devilish planned. You don’t dare look and instead, let the shock of what he lifts over your shoulder capture you in its tight grip.

It’s the sacred crucifix, one blessed by the Abbess and doused in holy water. A gasp catches in the back of your bruised throat.

“I’m sure he won’t mind if we use this,” he whispers, rutting in and out and in and out…

“What…what are you going to do with it?”

Tom doesn’t say a word much to your horror. Instead, cautious, wide eyes watch the bare end of the cross mount your clit and begin pivoting around the little bud. Your stomach plummets. “Shit! You…you probably shouldn’t--”

“Shouldn’t what?” He interrogates, scowling. He presses harder and circles quicker. “Shouldn't. What."

"N-nothing, ah ahhhhh!"

"That's what I thought. Remember, little nun, I get to do whatever I want. I don't give a fuck who watches, who listens, what happens or what sacred fucked object I fuck you with, I am owed this."

His movements are brunt and erratic and you feel the heat building in your stomach again. "Okay! Okay! I'm sorry, fuck! I think I'm gonna snap--"

"Oh, you're going to do more than just snap," he pulls completely free of you, already seeing a long line of white, pearly slick trickle from you. "You're going to break. And so am I. We'll do it together."

His cock slides back into abruptly and hits deeper than before and the church fills with your cries. At your clit, the cross almost vibrates with his precision, and at your aching hole, Tom's cock, still thrusting in and out at what feels like the first time. Your cunt just can't seem to accommodate such an intrusion at his size.

Like the demon promises, something snaps in both of you and a chorus of grunts and growls rumble from his chest where whines and mewls leave yours. Instantly blood starts pumping rapidly to your cunt, swelling in size the more he continues to circle your throbbing clit with the crucifix. Your thighs clamped together to inhibit his movements, but he is just too unshakeable. He prolongs the sensation for as long as he can, testing your limits just to hear the sweet, sweet, sobs cracking from your throat. You cry out desperately, voice hoarse and dry as it crumbles beneath the pressure of Tom's desperation to have you, to give him everything but yet still have the physicality to bear the sudden influx of pleasure.

"Fuck! Oh yes, fucking take it all. Take all my cum. Fill you up. You'll be so full and round, oh yesssss. That's it."

The church walls resonates with your cries and heats to the sweltering temperature of your bodies, as if it's reacting to what it's just witnessed.

Your body quivers upon the altar. The velvet beneath seems to be spotted with stains of your own making, leaving behind a very sinful piece of evidence of what devilry has transpired. Starlight flickers behind your eyelids while the remnants of the orgasm begins to dissipate. You regulate your breathing, your pulse, your heart, anything to make the recovery of that planet-shattering pleasure less tedious. Inside you, warmth swims through you and a small minority of it escapes the twitch of Tom's cock, your cunt bursting at the seams while it drips down your thighs.

The crucifix clatters to the ground and Tom desperately pulls from you and begins collecting what escapes by the pads of his fingers and forces it back into you.

“Fuck,” you hiccup. “I think…” you shudder, “I think I’m still cumming.” With that information free to use, Tom teases an evil smirk, sneaking his fingers over your clit and…"NO! No, no, no, no, no, no, please, please, please, just...give me a second.”

"Hahahaha, oh my dear little nun. This is never going to end." His words echo in between kisses, being strewn over your body as he licks, kisses and bites patches of your skin. His hands cruise over the length of your arms, lifting them and holding them high above your head.

"What...?"

He nuzzles deep into your neck, biting harshly and teasing a wince from you. "I can't get enough of this tight, little pussy. Fuck, what you do to me, little nun, I can't just leave you behind like that. Oh no, no, you'll definitely be coming back with me."

"No..."

"Yes. You made that decision, you willingly handed yourself over to me, you are mine to keep and a vow from the divine cannot be broken."

In a momentary lapse of weakness, tears blur your eyes as you strain to find the eyes of Jesus hanging on the crucifix above you while his lips roam your cheek, kissing delicately, tenderly as if to coax you back into his embrace.

"There's nothing He can do now because..." He pulls your wrist and holds it in the space beneath you. When he unfurls his hand from your wrist, it reveals a mark, a symbol tattooed into your skin. Circular with an unrecognisable language written inside. You're at a loss for breath, skin paling at what you've done.

"You're forever bound to the House of Holland."

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