#Strap in.... Its sunday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

melonn-soda · 1 month

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❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞

word count: 3.3k

warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG

prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason

notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read

fem aligned dni

“Oh, my.”

Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.

He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.

He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.

So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?

The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.

Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.

“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”

“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”

A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.

Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”

Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.

Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-

The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.

What.

There wasn’t-

There was no way.

“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”

Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.

There was no way that you...

Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.

The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.

...

...You’re still wearing his hat.

“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”

One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”

Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”

A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.

You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.

Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.

Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.

The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.

The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.

He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?

Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.

The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.

He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.

The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.

...

What is he even thinking right now?

“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”

The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.

The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.

“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”

Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.

“Lookin’ for this?”

The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.

“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”

You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.

“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.

“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”

He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”

“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.

“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”

“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.

“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”

One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-

“O-oh!”

Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying.

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”

Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.

The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.

“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.

“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.

Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.

He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”

You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”

With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”

“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill’s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”

The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”

You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.

“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.

Aeons, he hated you.

#x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader

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imaginedanvrs · 2 months

Text

atonement

masterlist

camp counselor!wanda x reader

word count: 6k

warnings: homophobia and homophobic slurs, conversion therapy, manipulation, gaslighting, references to drug use, unhealthy power dynamics (so rape), noncon to dubcon, cunnilingus, degrading, fingering, nipple play, size kink, general mean Wanda

a/n: me? posting blasphemous content on Easter Sunday? I would never

It looked harmless enough. You weren’t sure what you had been anticipating, mostly because you had been trying to keep your mind off of the unavoidable destination, but it certainly wasn’t the depressing place you had expected. No, they were smart enough to keep that reality away from the parents that dropped their ‘troubled’ children off. If anything, it looked like the kind of summer camp that a lot of your friends would be enjoying about that time.

There wasn’t a church for one thing. In its place was what appeared to be a ranch style house that had kept its traditional family features such as the pair of rocking chairs on the porch and the maintained flowerbed around the borders. On either side of the building, closing in the driveway, were several other intimate buildings that created the impression of a community style living. They were all decorated with various posters about god’s love and acceptance that you guessed you were going to be hearing a lot about during your stay.

Your mother got out of the car first as a man who looked like he was still being dressed by his own mum jogged over from the main house to greet you both. You clenched your grip on your bag strap before deciding to face the music and follow her lead, still examining the area sceptically as your mother and the man introduced themselves. Your mother failed to deliver the same excitement the blonde did, but she attempted to force it nonetheless while your hosts laughed easily at something she had said.

You weren’t listening to either of them as you retrieved your other bag from the boot of the car, not expecting the man to walk around the other side to greet you. “Y/n!” He said like you were an old friend. “I’m Reverend Vision but you can call me Rev Vis.” You most certainly weren’t going to be doing that. “We’re so happy to have you here, let me give you the grand tour of our home,” he beckoned. You trailed behind them.

“Do you live on site?” Your mother asked.

“Oh yes, me and the Mrs. We love our work,” he drowned on and began guiding you through the various rooms of the two buildings either side of his house. The more you learnt about the place, the more you began to dread your stay. There were ‘entertainment’ rooms that were filled with musical instruments and religious books and music. A canteen area fueled by the kitchen in which all of the students were to prepare every meal. A prayer room that was deserted at that time. Finally, the dorms.

Vision wasted no time in searching through your bags for anything that could “interfere with your journey” and came up empty handed, much to his well hidden disappointment. Your mother didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on the contents that came out of your bag, but you saw the flicker of his brow when he declared you were all good and began explaining the long lists of rules that you had no intention of memorising.

“And we do not allow any kind of sexual acts, with yourself or others,” he said lightly. Your mother shifted uncomfortably and you nodded. You had no intention of being caught by him with your hands down your pants when he did his checks during the night. You didn’t anticipate being there long because you were fully prepared to fake your conversion to heterosexuality. How hard could it be? Besides, you dreaded to think how much your parents were paying the capm under the illusion that they could somehow change you. You had to find it humorous, otherwise it would really fucking hurt.

It still did when you watched your family car disappear past the camp gates and into the dense tree line. You sighed, resting your head gently against the cool glass of your window and took in the camp in its entirety. It was a waste of beautiful land, you concluded as you examined where the large field met the changing trees. There were a couple guys in the camp uniform playing football on the grass while a cluster of girls sat to the side cheering them on. Apparently you had caught the end of the game, because Vision appeared on the edge of the grass and called them back inside, most likely to prepare for dinner.

“Y/n,” a voice behind you called. You spun around at the unexpected caller just as she opened her arms and enveloped you in a tight hug that took you wholly by surprise.

“Hi?” You greeted as a question, making the older woman chuckle as she held you before pulling away and keeping her soft hands on your arms as she took you in and allowed you to do the same. Holy fuck she was beautiful. Her striking emerald eyes bore straight through your own and somehow had the ability to make you feel entirely exposed, as though it would be futile to ever conceal anything from her, including your undeniable attraction to her. In contrast, her smile was soft and polite as she gazed at you in a friendly fondness you would with someone you haven't seen in a long time. There was something noticeably comforting in it and the way she carried an entirely put together personar that you wanted a peek beneath. Metaphorically of course… but also literally.

“I’m Wanda, Vision’s wife.” Rev Vis was punching way above his weight. This woman’s voice was even hot. Maybe pretending to be straight would be harder than you thought.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled and glanced away awkwardly, finding her impossible to maintain eye contact with. She didn’t seem to care as she hooked her finger under your chin and turned your head to keep your attention on her.

“I have every faith you’re going to do so well here, sweetheart,” she told you fondly then dropped her hand and took a respectful step back. Right, gotta leave room for jesus. “Your roommate will be back soon then you too should head down for supper,” she instructed as she headed for the door.

“Okay,” you nodded and pretended to unpack your bags.

“See you later, honey,” she said before disappearing. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and collapsed onto your bed.

Your first day dragged by painstakingly slowly. Between meals, you attended bible study taught by Vision who gave you his extra attention as it was your first time there. He asked you to compare your own relationship with god to that which he was teaching, expecting an answer in front of all the other students who had been through the same ordeal and spotted your lies as well as Vision did. Apparently everyone did the same when they started at the camp.

You had kitchen duty in the morning and garden duty in the afternoon (which was probably the least crap one) before you had to sit down for what felt like hours to listen to Vision sing about god on a guitar he didn’t know how to tune properly. During every interaction you had with him, all you could think about was how he had ended up with a woman like Wanda. Had they been high school sweethearts? Had their parents pushed them together? Did he have some kind of twisted blackmail over her? They were the only three explanations that made any sense to you but you weren’t about to ask any of the other students for their input.

As it turned out, your daily routine was also going to include a one on one session with the older woman which should have been something to act as a silver lining in your stay, but it was the most challenging aspect of all.

“When did your desire for women begin?” She asked after some small talk.

“I’m not sure,” you lied in an effort to buy yourself some time to think of a good response. She smiled at you softly.

“You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to god,” she informed lightly.

“A couple years ago,” you replied honestly. This seemed to please her.

“And how did it manifest?” She sounded genuinely curious to know, lulling you into being unexpectedly open with her. It wasn’t as though you had anyone else to talk about that stuff with.

“There was a girl in my class that I thought was pretty,” you told her as you recalled your first real crush. “I felt more when she smiled at me than I did when I kissed a boy.” Wanda smiled as though she could see the purity of your memory as well as you could. Except to her, it wasn’t so innocent.

“The devil likes to work his way into places we could never expect,” she told you and your smile dropped. “Especially when we’re naive,” she added. It sounded as though she didn’t hold anything against you and she wholly believed you had been seduced by the devil himself and that it was impossible for there to be any other explanation.

“I was seventeen,” you reasoned. “I wasn’t naive.” Wanda liked the challenge you gave her. That whisper of a promised defiance gave her a thrill she knew to keep a cap unless she was required to use it. She would do anything for her beloved students to guide them back on the right path, especially one that wore the face of morality so well.

“And what do you mean by that?” Wanda enquired.

“I knew- I know what desire and attraction feel like,” you told her without looking her in those expectant eyes that unknowingly glimmered at your revelation.

“Lust,” Wanda said simply. “One of the hardest sins to resist when it affects one so physically.”

“Surely it can’t be bad if it’s natural,” you pointed out. That was not the response the brunette wanted to hear.

“It is not natural,” Wanda said so quickly that she had to take a moment to recollect herself as you looked at her with shock as you took in that momentary crack in her exterior. It was interesting to watch and you wondered why it had hit a nerve. Surely you weren’t the only one to come into her office and state the fact.

“Y/n,” she called slowly. “If lust comes to you while you are here, you must come and tell me,” she told you seriously. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be doing that. You agreed obediently anyway.

“Good,” she smiled again. “Now, is there anyone you currently feel ungodly towards?”

“The same girl,” you admitted sheepishly. Yes, you had had a variety of other minor crushes in the past couple years, but she always managed to fill you with that teasing anxiety that never fully manifested when she said hi to you.

Wanda raised her brows indiscreetly. “I hope you will soon be able to give that same loyalty to god,” she said. You didn’t give her a response, unsure of what to say when you had no intention of doing such a thing. “In time,” she added when she saw your hesitation.

“Maybe,” you muttered, meeting her half way. “Won’t he love me regardless?” You painted the question with an air of innocence that anyone else would have fallen for. But Wanda saw beyond that and knew you used the faux front purely to challenge her again. She was impressed.

“Of course,” she told you gently. “Always.”

You thought you were being subtle with the way you kept glancing over at the couple. It was breakfast time so there was a general murmur of conversation that you didn’t feel particularly pressed to join in with. All it did was teach you to avoid sitting with the group you had found yourself with again because they seemed to be the only students there who were actively participating in the conversion with the belief it would ‘fix them’. You pitied them in a way, but not enough to interfere with their ramblings about their opposite sex celebrity crushes.

Wanda caught your eye on one of the many times you had peered over. Vision was talking to her but apparently she was as distracted from her company as you were, more fixed on returning your gaze. The corner of her lip twitched when you realised you’d been caught and you swiftly looked away to stare down at your cereal, actively keeping your wandering gaze on the other side of the room for the rest of the meal.

“So what did you do to end up here?” A curly haired boy asked as he strolled into the kitchen you occupied alone. He was swinging a tea towel in his hands as he joined you and started on drying the washing up you had started.

“Got caught making out with the pastor’s daughter,” you said stoically.

“You’re fucking with me,” he grinned and your composure cracked.

“Yeah, but it’s much cooler than the truth,” you told him honestly as he jumped up onto the counter.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. My grandma walked in on me with my dick down my best friend’s ass,” he told you and you couldn’t stop the laugh that rose promptly. You grinned at the boy next to you in disbelief, thankful that your own luck wasn’t that bad. “Your turn,” he prompted.

“I told my best friend that I like girls. She told my parents,” you said humorously, as though it didn’t hurt like a bitch just to remember.

“I think I have better mates than you,” he concluded. You didn’t argue with that. “I’m James.”

“Y/n,” you replied. “How long have you been here?”

“Four months.”

“What?” You splashed some water over the floor when your hand slipped in shock and James yelped when some drops hit him then started chuckling at the look you were giving him.

“What? Did you think it was only going to last a couple weeks?”

“Kinda, yeah,” you muttered as you returned your attention to your chore. “Do you think you’ll be out soon?”

“Nah, they know I’m bullshitting them. We all are, of course, but some of them can trick themselves into believing it, which is good enough for Vision.”

“Yeah, I know Wanda sees right through me,” you told him. “Which by the way, that makes no sense right?”

“I reckon he’s holding her family captive,” James stated simply. You laughed with him easily, glad you had found someone like minded to you. “Hey, do you wanna get high?”

The nimble threads at the bottom of your uniformed cardigan were multiplying as your stay at the camp went by. Your fingers frequently found their way to them when you were uncomfortable, which was more often than not, and pulled at the finer threads until you unintentionally collected a small bundle in the palm of your hands that you had to hide. Vision never commented on it, but Wanda did, telling you that it represented your impulse to repress your femininity or some bullshit like that.

You left the threads alone and laced your hands together in your lap when she gave you a pointed look from her office chair and you muttered an apology.

“I’ve noticed you and James have become quite close,” she commented. “I must admit I was hoping you would find better company in some of the other students here. James doesn’t provide the best example to follow,” she told you.

“We’re just friends,” you shrugged, slightly irked that the older woman had a problem with the one refuge you had been able to find in the camp.

“Are you friends with anyone else here?” She questioned, not yet providing you the warm smile she offered every time you stepped into her office or saw her in general. She didn’t look happy that day. She looked troubled but you didn’t believe that was solely down to your decision to spend time with James.

“Not yet,” you told her even though you weren’t planning on expanding your social circle. Though if it was only two people it must be more of a line. Still, adding that unfulfilled optimism was meant to appease Wanda. You should have expected her to see it for what it really was.

“What do you and James talk about?” She wasn’t going to let it go.

“Our lives, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Your experiences,” Wanda said for you. You knew there was no point in denying that when your glance towards her told her all she needed to know.

“Sometimes.”

“You should only discuss those topics with myself or Vision, otherwise you may end up having those experiences affirmed and encouraged,” she explained pointedly. You nodded uncomfortably as your fingers found their ways to your threads again only to snap back in place when you felt Wanda’s eyes momentarily burn into you. Something was very different with her. “So tell me what you discussed,” she pushed.

“I told him how much I dislike kissing boys,” you told her matter of factly as you tried to suppress your rising irritation. Maybe it was her job, but you hated her need to know everything you and James did.

“And you want to kiss girls instead?”

“I want to do a lot of things with them,” you laid on the innocence thick, playing your role as the good christian who was simply admitting to how she had been led astray and just wanted to atone for her sins. As always, Wanda saw through your facade though that time it made her tick. You knew exactly what you were doing, you just had no idea the effect it was having on the older woman. You had no idea that your insistence on pretending to be good while knowing you were bad stirred something in her that she wasn’t supposed to feel. You were pushing those sinful desires that had infiltrated your mind right into her own and she wouldn’t allow it.

“That’s all for today,” she declared without giving a response to your statement. It hadn’t even been your full session time, maybe more like half of it.

“Okay,” you said slowly as you stood up.

“I suggest you spend the rest of your evening with your roommate today,” she told you as you lingered in the doorway.

“Right, bye,” you bid awkwardly, frowning to yourself as you walked away.

The moment the door closed Wanda sighed heavily and leant back in her chair, catching sight of the framed photo of herself and Vision when they went on a hiking holiday in Colorado. The both beamed at the camera as they held each other close, though Wanda’s love for her husband had been as dim as it was in the present. But it was what god wanted. What god certainly didn’t want was for Wanda to allow her mind to wander to you in the way it had during that session when you had been taunting her with that faux naivety that everyone else seemed to fall for.

She had such hope for you when she first met you. But the images you had put in her head of her hand disappearing beneath your skirt as her lips clashed with yours, pinning you down to that very couch you perched on, that was something that could not be allowed to flourish, no matter how it made her throb between her legs. Wanda forced herself to stare at her husband’s image and remember when he used to make her feel that way, but those memories of his breathless features beneath her were replaced with your own and suddenly she couldn’t help but ponder what your sweet moans would sound like next to her ear as her fingers dipped inside-

“Lord help me,” Wanda called, but he never came.

You and Wanda both faced your own new challenges as the weeks went by. For you, your only refuge was gone. James had been sent back home randomly one night after an incident that no one would discuss with you. You had written your numbers on pieces of paper before that night, but it had disappeared as mysteriously as James had and gave you an equally chilling feeling. You had no idea what was going to happen to him when he arrived home without the results he had been sent away to achieve. Would they send him somewhere else? Somewhere worse? The only thing you could do was try not to end up like him.

Unfortunately, Wanda knew that nothing had changed within you. You continued to try and fool her with your illusion of innocence, reciting what Vision had taught you, socialising with the committed students and answering her questions in the way she wanted to hear rather than the truth. Little did you know that your efforts to quicken your release from the camp were futile, because Wanda simply didn’t want you gone yet. You were fighting a losing battle, just as she was.

As much as she despised to acknowledge it, the brunette fought her own desires as much as you did. It made her hate how much she was drawn to you. It made her ashamed of the acts she envisaged herself performing with you and how she just knew in her heart that you would so willingly part your legs for her. She wasn’t blind to your attraction to her, she had encountered it enough in her career to see it a mile away, no matter how discreet you thought you were being.

“I think I’m getting better,” you lied as you peered at Wanda cautiously.

“And what makes you say that?” The older woman inquired, humouring your plain fib.

“I don’t think about girls,” you said as you willed yourself not to look at Wanda’s long legs that were crossed eloquently.

“What do you think about?” You hadn’t been prepared for that.

“God?” Wrong. Obviously wrong. Wanda hummed and you knew that meant she didn’t buy it.

“Y/n, I want you to start being more honest with me.” You froze and didn’t dare look her in the eye. “I’m aware that you’re not progressing, so I think we should try something new. Just you and me.” You frowned and risked looking up to the confident woman, not having a clue of the excitement that manifested so secretly. “Are you familiar with penance?” You were, yet you had no idea where Wanda was going with it.

“There are many different forms. Some fast, some pray, some confess, but as we practise most of that here anyway, I want to try something else,” Wanda explained as she stood up from her chair and sauntered over to the desk in the corner of her office. You heard her rummaging around in the draws as a feeling of unease began to emerge in your chest. Rightfully so, because when Wanda turned back around, she held a riding crop firmly in her grasp.

“Stand up,” she instructed and you quickly did so as you eyed the tool in her hands. “Usually you would do this yourself, but I don’t believe you’re capable,” she explained lightly. “Hold out your hand.”

“Wanda,” you said as you kept your hand glued to your side. “I don’t want to.” Her features were deceivingly gentle as she listened to you.

“I don’t want to do this to you either, sweetheart. It’s just the only solution. So hold out your hand,” she repeated, gripping the crop so tight you could hear the leather stretch in her grasp. It unsettled you greatly.

“But it will hurt,” you objected, eyes wide. Wanda could have laughed at how oblivious you were to her intentions.

“It’s meant to,” she said simply and grabbed your wrist with a force that completely paralleled the softness of her tone.

“Wanda-” you tried to yank your hand back but you weren’t as strong as the brunette who only had to hold you with one hand while the other brought the crop down hard.

You cried out but Wanda used her grip on you to pull you flush against her chest, her features having turned ice cold. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced through your own with a sharpness that was usually dulled. The next words she uttered were void of that nurturing faith she used with everyone else and were replaced with something much darker. “If you keep struggling I’ll bend you over that desk and whip your ass instead.” You trembled against her, trying to decipher what your best bet was. When you took too long to decide, Wanda reached around and groped your ass, digging the crop in as she did so as though to make sure you knew she was serious. Your breath hitched as you found yourself completely trapped against the woman that squeezed you through your skirt. You whimpered, riling her up more until you nodded.

“Good,” Wanda exhaled, calming the heat she was struck with at the sight of your fearful eyes. “With every strike, you’re going to confess something you’ve lied about to me.” There were so many lies to choose from that when the first strike came, you struggled to pick one out. “Confess,” Wanda demanded, all of her patience suddenly absent.

“I don’t like boys, I like girls,” you admitted in a rush, refusing to look at Wanda or your burning hand that she struck again. “I’m not doing the work,” you continued. Wanda remained dissatisfied, striking your raw palm again and again as you admitted to your lies, none of which being what Wanda wanted to hear.

“I touch myself!” That was what she was looking for.

“Look at me,” Wanda instructed, examining the tear streaks down your cheeks as you whimpered. It was clear you were trying to appear strong and indifferent, but it was quickly becoming too much. The older woman cooed at you as dropped the crop to the couch behind you and took a hold of your inflamed hand, rubbing the abused hand with a tenderness that only made it burn more.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Her smile had grown sinister and you realised you were nowhere near done. “What thoughts do you touch yourself to?” Wanda questioned further, rubbing the most tender areas of your palm.

“Lying with a woman,” you hiccuped, hoping the harmless phrasing could somehow ease your next punishment.

“Who?” She pushed, gripping your chin roughly and forcing you to look straight ahead at her as you confessed what she already knew.

“You,” you whispered. Arousal rushed to the forefront of Wanda’s mind, and with it came anger. You weren't allowed to make her feel the way you did. She had a husband and she was a faithful Christian wife until you showed up and infected her mind with your own illness. You had to be put in your place.

In a blur, you were laying flat on the sofa you had lied continuously to Wanda on. You were barely given the chance to react before Wanda hiked her leg over your chest and straddled you with a purely feral look upon her face. You felt a strike of fear hit you, however you also weren’t blind to how attractive Wanda looked in her state of desperation. It may have been a desperation to reclaim control and to punish you for her own feelings, but it was hot nonetheless.

“You’ve been tempting me ever since you got here,” she hissed, feeling under her conservative skirt for a moment before she lifted it up around her waist. “This is your fault,” Wanda told you as you soaked in the view of her exposed pussy just inches from your face. You could smell her arousal and when she moved to lower herself onto your awaiting mouth, you eagerly grabbed at the back of her thighs until she slapped you away. “You don’t get to touch me with those filthy fingers, just let me use you.” Although you knew it was terribly wrong, you felt your own cunt heat up at her instructions. You knew that it was fucked up that the married woman wanted to get off on riding your mouth, but you wanted it so bad.

“Just like that,” Wanda sighed as you ran your tongue through her wet folds and sucked on them lightly, aiming to savour every drop and inch of her. “Put your tongue out,” she continued to demand. As soon as you did, Wanda began to vigorously grind her clit against your muscle, allowing your tastebuds to become ablaze with her as she cursed above you. You had never heard her swear before and knew she would scold anyone who muttered anything close, so knowing you could elicit such a reaction from her made your insides twist with pride.

She didn’t argue when you switched to sucking on her pulsing clit and felt it throb in your mouth. You moaned against her as her movements continued and her thighs locked around her head. It felt as though she really was using you for her own pleasure, not caring about your own or any comfort. You were the shameful bliss she was forbidden to engage with, but it felt incredible to ignore her god and use you as she wished. But she was really disobeying him, she was just teaching you a lesson. It wasn’t really sinning.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, you slut!” Wanda cried out as she became engulfed with the sensations you gave her. You had no intention of stopping as you shifted to pushing your tongue inside her. You were met by the tight squeeze of her walls and felt your own clench at the discovery she hadn’t had sex in a while. That explained why she was so sensitive too. Besides yourself, you smirked into the older woman and doubled your efforts.

It didn’t take long for Wanda to get close to the bliss she had become stranger to and you weren’t about to let her lose that. She knew her body, even after some time of depriving herself, and told you exactly what to do to get her there. “That’s it, that’s it,” she panted, head swimming as she erratically thrust herself onto her mouth and came with a sharp cry. You moaned against her, adamant on tasting your reward as Wanda trembled on top of you and eventually forced herself off when you didn’t stop. She wasn’t about to let greed overcome her.

You looked up at her with a hesitant smile that was apparently the last thing Wanda wanted to see. She glared at you and immediately lifted you up and spun you around so that you were leaning over the armrest on the sofa, not allowing you a second to object. “What-” you tried but she didn’t want to hear it.

“We’re not done,” she said without care as she lifted your own skirt over your back and yanked down your soaked underwear. She bit her lip at the sight of the wetness that stained them and threw them over to her desk for safe keeping, definitely not to sniff and use to get off later.

“Desperate whore,” she muttered to herself as she ran two fingers through your drenched lips. “You want to get fucked so bad? I’ll show you what it’s like to get fucked.” She let the threat loom over you as dipped her digits into you lightly, barely enough to stimulate you but enough for her to decipher how tight you were. Wanda groaned when she felt you clench in anticipation, desperate for any touch you would give her. At that, she let the remains of her self control slip away and thrust her fingers in at once. “So tight,” she commented as you clung onto the sofa, moaning at the feeling of her filling you up in the way you had dreamed ever since you first met the older woman.

“Wanda,” you whined when she spread her fingers out within you to push your walls.

“Shut up,” she hissed, refusing to listen to your pathetic pleas on the tip of your tongue. “Take it.” And you did. You bit into the couch to mute yourself as Wanda curled and thrust her fingers inside your wet cunt, mapping out every inch of you and pushing your body’s limits. She added a third finger without any consideration to your stifled whines.

Wanda, as she told herself, was only doing it to hurt you and punish you. You deserved it for sinning so openly in her home and for attempting to corrupt her. It wouldn’t work, she convinced herself, she wouldn’t succumb to your lust but she had to show you the right path. She had to make you ache. With that in mind, she added a fourth finger and pumped her fingers in wildly.

You cried out into the material you sunk your teeth into, feeling your pussy sting at the stretch Wanda was causing. Still, you continued to soak down to her palm. It just hurt so good. Too good for Wanda to allow, so she snuck her hand under your shirt and bra to take your nipples between her fingers and twist them cruelly. You whimpered at the unnecessary act, making Wanda grin triumphantly.

Despite the pain, it did little to distract you from the heat between your legs that was quickly growing out of control. Having stretched you out as much as she pleased, Wanda was able to thrust her fingers inside you without mercy, attacking every sensitive nerve until you became a mess on the sofa she was meant to therapise you on. “You going to cum for me, whore?” Wanda asked when she felt you twitch around her. You mumbled a yes you were lucky she heard. “You’re so pathetic like this, so weak to temptation,” she scolded you with a wicked smile you couldn’t see. “Cum for me.” That was all it took for your muscles to clench tightly around her and let go. You moaned like the whore she saw you as as you came, gripping onto the sofa for dear life as Wanda continued to ruthlessly pump her digits into your cunt.

“Too much,” you whined when she failed to stop. She didn’t listen. You came down from one orgasm and soon went tumbling into another when Wadna kept up her actions, making sure to drive her point home. You squirmed under her as your body became overstimulated but there was no room or strength for you to move away. “Please!” You begged as you bucked into her palm, unable to stop the contradicting action that served to amuse Wanda.

“So sensitive,” Wanda mused, coaxing you through another orgasm until she deemed that the message had gone through enough. You collapsed in a defeated heap as she stood up from the sofa and corrected her uniform as though you weren’t even there. You missed her taking her tainted digits into her mouth to appease her curiosity. Lord, she thought as she tasted your sweetness. She swiftly pushed away the impulse to keep you down and taste your sweetness directly from the source. She had to keep things professional after all.

“See me first thing in the morning,” she instructed, features still flushed with lingering lust. She had given into temptation and whether she liked it or not, she would indulge in you again. You weren’t going home anytime soon.

#marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!marvel #scarlet witch

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wndaswife · 9 months

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(fic request) pls write this w nun!wanda (if you want) 😵😵😵

to worship and submit | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Being the daughter of the man that leads the church choir means attending the services when you run out of excuses to be anywhere else, but a young woman who's recently joined the parish to become a nun has begun to make your time there worthwhile.

Word count: 7419

Tags: smut, fluff, humour, sacrilege, quite literally fucking in front of a crucifix, even i feel slightly guilty for writing it, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, slapping, spitting, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mentions of masturbation, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader | MINORS DNI

A/N: SO... i did do some research for this fic... but only SOME... meaning some of the info may be incorrect fyi!!!

gif credit to evilly

Every Sunday since your dad joined the church as their choir leader, you’d been making yourself busy in advance just in case he’d ask if you wanted to come to the services.

You were proud of your dad — really, you were — because he loved music and loved the community the church brought him, and the church was closeby to where your mom worked as an elementary school teacher, so your parents were able to work together when there were community events that involved both the school and the church.

Though, being happy for your dad didn’t mean you also had to be happy when he invited you to the services.

Sometimes you’d attend special occasions like Easter and other holidays and church events wherein your dad prepared his own assortment of music and such for the choir to play, but only because you were there to support him and what he was passionate about — music and community and his family.

Such events were big deals at the church he volunteered at because it was well-known for its large community; the church itself was closely connected to a nearby convent where it had close ties to the nunnery there, as well as having one of if not the most ornate architecture all preserved within a historically-significant religious landmark.

But for the last few weeks, he hadn’t asked you to go with him because he was so busy with the new influx of students joining from the Catholic elementary school your mom worked at; they were all there singing on the weekends for their volunteer hours, but at the very least, your dad said they were still enthusiastic and friendly kids.

So on the morning of one of the very rare occasions in which you hadn’t had anything planned for the Sunday because you weren’t expecting him to invite you as he hadn’t for the last while, your dad invited you to the service.

You could’ve truly made up an excuse and flat-out lied about being busy, but it’d been a while since he asked and you knew he’d been working hard with the new students in his group, so you supposed it wasn’t so much trouble to accept his offer, even if you did groan it out in a superficial fit about having to get out of bed earlier.

It wasn’t that you not being religious had anything major to do with avoiding going to church, because you didn’t entirely mind when your religious parents brought you to the services for special occasions, but rather because you didn’t very much have the patience or sufficient concern for the readings and worship to attend the nearly-two-hour services.

That was truly your most pressing issue with attending the Sunday services with your dad, but today was different, with an unexpected experience to make you dread going even more than you did previously.

“Excuse me?” a timid, unfamiliar voice chirped from behind you.

You turned to see a young woman standing by the doorway of the back hall where the entrance to the choir balcony was.

Typically, you sat around there when your dad was conducting because you weren’t very involved in the church enough to sit at the pews nor were you part of the choir.

But from where you were sitting, you weren’t entirely uninvolved as you could still see and hear the services — it was the perfect spot.

“You aren’t allowed to sit here,” the young woman told you, running the pads of her two fingers along the edge of her sleeve.

Her dark brown hair was neatly pulled back into a conservative bun and she was wearing a black plain dress with a modest plain scoop neckline to show the buttons and collar of the crisply-ironed long-sleeved white blouse underneath that all of the church’s nuns wore, but the simplicity of her outfit and the uncovering of her hair meant to you that she was presently studying at the church to become a nun.

“I’m the choir dude’s daughter,” you said with a polite smile and looked away, expecting for your response to be all the elaboration she needed.

In a way that was subtle with the intention not to be offensive but in that very manner was offensive in itself because of how irritating her caution was, the woman cleared her throat.

“I-I know,” she pressed, “but this area isn’t open for seating. For anyone.”

When you didn’t answer for a moment as you stared at her, she quickly said, “I’m sorry. They told me to tell you.”

“I’ll find a spot in the pews,” you answered and collected your things.

From the corner of your eye, it seemed that she wanted to offer a seating alternative just to make up for what she was forced to tell you, but there wasn’t very much else she could offer.

That Thursday, you were back at the church to pick up an ironed uniform for your dad; it was for a special event set for the upcoming Sunday, and the church pressed it for him and everything.

It was a nice gesture.

They were nice people.

On Thursdays, there were only morning services and events for children in another spacious room where they could colour and play with the church’s team leaders and nuns.

But in the afternoon — which it now was — there wasn’t anything going on.

When you arrived, the church was still and warm with gentle sunlight shining through the stained glass windows and casting a myriad of colours against the pews.

You looked over your dad’s text again and walked through the directions he told you to take to get to the back halls of the church, just a few turns from the stairway that led up to the choir balcony.

The room where you were to pick up the uniform was as pretty as the rest of the church; it was a small prayer room with a pedestal and stained windows and red carpeting, but it was much cozier and probably hadn’t been used for prayer for the group size it was designed for in a little while.

You could see through the glass door the folded uniform for your dad on the windowsill behind the pedestal with a name tag placed on top of it ready for pick-up along with a few other clothes for some other church volunteers.

Upon entry, you closed the door quietly behind you and stepped into the room where you could now see a small table by the window and a familiar young woman sitting with a notebook, jotting a few things down from what looked like a leather-bound book.

“Can I just get my dad’s uniform from there, or do I need to sign it off or something?” you asked, announcing your presence.

She looked up from the notebook and at you then to the uniforms on the windowsill.

“Oh, you’re…” She paused and thought for a moment. “The choir conductor’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“I can sign it off for you,” she replied and smiled.

She stood from the table and walked around it to the uniforms, where a piece of paper was set beside the line of neatly-folded clothes.

You watched as she jotted down a few things onto the paper with a pen before carefully picking up the packaged uniform and turning to hand it to you.

“Thank you,” you answered.

“Of course. Have a good day,” she replied and bid you a goodbye before heading back to the table by the window.

You were on the way to leave the room, but you couldn’t, for some odd reason, take your eyes away from the way she lowered herself into her seat and resumed her notetaking.

She didn’t notice when you changed your direction and walked towards the table she was sitting at until you were perhaps just a metre away from her, when she then looked up from her notes and up at you.

“Did I give you the wrong uniform?” she asked, worried and now standing up from her chair.

“No,” you answered quickly and waved your hand.

She stayed standing, curious as to why you walked back.

“Hard at work?” you asked, pointing at her notebook.

Confused for a moment, perhaps by your curiosity in speaking with her, she looked over to her notebook and then back at you with a friendly smile, “Yes, a little. They gave me something to study from. I’m just taking notes.”

Carefully, you reached forward and spun her notebook around so you could read it.

Her curiosity seemed to spike when you leaned forward to read her notes, and she looked at you with a small smile.

“Um,” she started awkwardly. “I want to apologise for earlier this week. For making you move seats.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you replied and looked up from her notes to smile at her reassuringly. “I know they just made you tell me because you’re new.”

The young woman seemed reassured, her shoulders even relaxing a bit when you said it.

“You’re still… What do you call it? Like, you’re studying to be a nun here? Not fully one yet?”

She shook her head.

“Yes, I’m in the study period before becoming a novitiate,” she answered.

Your fingers ran over her delicate handwriting, feeling the indentations of her pen against the paper.

“To worship and submit,” you read aloud from the notebook. “Fascinating.”

She caught onto your twinge of sarcasm but approached it with humour, laughing a little and conceding, “It is a bit medieval, but an important quality, I’d presume.”

Reflecting suddenly on how young the woman seemed much younger than the other nuns, you asked her, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

She was a bit older than you, but still quite young.

Her hair was down now, though still neatly brushed and free of frizz and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and an ankle-length black skirt patterned lightly with gardenias.

“How did you get into wanting to be a nun, anyhow?” you asked and moved your attention away from the notebook and towards her. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I-I don’t?” she inquired, almost sounding nervous at the implication that she wasn’t training herself properly.

“I mean, pious and submissive — sure,” you said, referring to her notes, which made her seem a bit flustered, “but not like a nun.”

She questioned curiously, “More like…?”

After humming aloud in thought, you turned to her with your hip laying against the edge of the table and suggested, “Elementary school teacher. Vet. I don’t know, something like that.”

She was pretty — truly.

Cute, even.

“When I was younger, I wanted to be a vet,” she told you, smiling sweetly.

“Changed your mind?”

“Younger as in quite young, perhaps around ten,” she recalled. “My parents are both rather religious and ever since I turned fourteen it’s always been their intention to have me join a congregation.”

Interest piqued, you asked, “And your intention for yourself was…?”

“For myself?” she repeated as if taken by surprise.

You nodded once.

She paused for a moment to hum thoughtfully before saying, “I was happy to follow whichever path my parents intended for me.”

“You find passion in nunnery?” you asked. “Genuine question — not judging.”

“Of course,” she answered.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly checked it to see that your dad had messaged asking if you were able to pick up his uniform.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been holding you back from something,” the woman apologised and stepped to the side to allow you to leave.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket and adjusting your dad’s uniform in your hand, you replied, “No, not at all. My dad’s just impatient. I should get going now though, since here’s a few errands I have to run before noon.”

She nodded in understanding.

“It was nice being able to talk with you,” she then said. “I haven’t been able to talk with very many people since I came here. It’s all just been about studying and the church.”

Before you left, you made sure to ask for her name, to which she replied telling you it was ‘Wanda.’

Cute name.

It’d been quite a while since you ever attended the services two weeks in a row. The last you did was during the last half of August the first year your dad started conducting the church choir, during which you had nothing else to do but wait for classes to start — so you went to the services.

This time, because the church was celebrating something special, your dad asked both you and your mother to attend the service because he’d been working on preparing a set of songs for the occasion.

Under the guise of being a supportive daughter, your parents didn’t second guess why you were so willing to attend the service this week, nor did they ask if there was a certain individual you were perhaps a bit excited to see again.

Truthfully, you couldn’t stop thinking of Wanda since you last saw her a few days ago. There was much to her you felt laid dormant and sleeping, awakened only just in the slightest during the conversation you had with her. She was kind and curious, but also painfully naive.

She was a few years older than you but knew far less about the truth of her own ambitions and strayed perhaps not even a foot’s distance away from behind her parents’ shadows.

Wanda was interesting, but intrigued you for far too long for her to be only that. Though you couldn’t very well figure out what it was about her that made her bounce around in your head like a pinball until an unassuming evening.

It was sincerely an unrelated act when you first started, travelling your hand down between your legs in the silence of the evening to relieve yourself of the pent-up stress from classes that’d come over you during the last few days.

Truly, it was completely unrelated to Wanda and anything and everything about her when you started, and even during, until you reached your peak of release and found your imagination flashing with curiosities about what she looked like under her garments, how she’d squeal if you spanked her ass and if she’d like it, or how she’d cry out in sheer pleasure if you forced her down and made her take her spankings regardless.

For a moment afterwards there was guilt, but every day onwards there was curiosity, wondering for hours about what you’d seen when you reached that point of pleasure during which Wanda was your only muse.

You’d like to tell yourself it was only that curiosity that guided your willingness to attend the service with your parents, but it was something else entirely too — something completely carnal.

For the first hour of the service, Wanda was still nowhere to be seen. Because of the church’s connections with its convent, the nuns had a large role in some of the day-to-day happenings, but mostly during important church events like what you were presently attending.

Wanda wasn’t a nun yet; she was yet to be even a novitiate as she had mentioned, and so perhaps she just didn’t get to attend events like these.

Though you personally found that counter-productive, you weren't one to complain about the convent’s decisions, but you did wish you got to see Wanda.

If she wasn’t one to be able to attend such events, when would you see her next?

After coming to the realisation that you probably just weren’t going to see her today or perhaps even for a little while, you excused yourself after having been present for nearly all of your dad’s song arrangements and with enough time to be able to be back from the washroom with well-enough time to catch the rest of his songs.

To your surprise, you saw the very woman who’d been on your mind for the last hour was sitting in the hall by the stairway that led up to the choir balcony. She was wearing the same outfit as she had been the first time you met her, with her hair done up in the same way too.

“Excuse me, but you aren’t allowed to sit here,” you teased, approaching from the right and walking into the hallway.

She quickly swiped at her eyes and began to apologise before she raised her head and saw it was you who had spoken to her, and you who now stood beside the bench she was sitting on.

Though she smiled and seemed relieved and happy to see you, you could tell that she’d just been crying — alone in this hallway away from the service and the nuns and sitting at the far end of the bench so as not to be seen by the people attending the mass.

Wanda stood, running her palms down the sides of her dress with a friendly smile while saying, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly as you focused on the slight redness of her eyes and the tip of her nose.

You then asked once you were sure she’d been crying, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious after realising it must've been obvious that she’d been crying, Wanda carefully wiped under her eyes again and even tried making herself seem less dishevelled by tucking her hair behind her ears before you took her hands away from her face and made her stop fidgeting with her appearance.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” you pressed.

Dismissively as to not bring any more attention to herself, she told you, “It’s really nothing. It’s nothing to bother you with.”

“I wanna be bothered,” you answered lightheartedly. “Come on.”

Wanda smiled at your gaiety and you urged her to tell you what was wrong once more before she finally exhaled in surrender though she didn’t sit down before speaking, implying that in spite of the fact of giving in to you, she wasn’t very well planning on delving too deep into what had been bothering her.

“Earlier today, I had accidentally misplaced the leather book I’d been studying from — the one you saw me with a few days prior, if you can remember,” she said. “And I was scolded terribly for it. It was quite deserving as it was an important collection of notes and such, so I do not question from where my scolding had come, but it seems to me that all I’ve done since I started here is get myself in trouble with the other nuns.”

Here, you tried taking her hand and urging her to sit down, but she wouldn’t, and slipped her fingers out of your hold.

“They found the book in one of the small prayer rooms I’d been studying in, so at the very least it was not a mistake of ruining the integrity of the book by losing it completely, but rather the very principle of having been given something so important and misplacing it,” she continued.

Wanda swallowed and seemed to be contemplating whether to go into more detail, and you could tell that there was something else that had been bothering her that didn’t exactly have to do with misplacing the book.

Before she had the chance to make a decision, there was a passerby who came from the service in search of the restrooms, which interrupted Wanda’s train of thought as she and the man exchanged a brief hello.

“We can go somewhere else,” you offered, taking her hand and heading down the hallway with her. She didn’t take her hand away from you this time, but instead told you that she only needed time to be on her own and that she was fine now.

The only other place you knew was the prayer room you picked your dad’s uniform up in, and fortunately it was unlocked.

You ushered Wanda into the room and she smiled at you from behind and you led her forward to one of the front seats in front of the altar, regarding you with admiration for the effort you put into wanting to express your concern for her and make sure she felt heard.

The early morning beams of light shone through the stained glass like they had that afternoon you’d come here a few days prior, but the room was far less stuffy now, familiar and almost reminiscent of something nostalgic.

The feeling could easily be because of the fact that you’d been envisioning what you could remember from it nearly every hour since that past Thursday, with the room in the background of your mental portrait of Wanda.

She settled down in the seat beside you, feeling encouraged more so because she wanted now to be closer to you rather than solely to sit and talk about what had been bothering her.

But she could partake in the latter if that was what you asked of her — and it was.

“I know that I hardly know you, but I’ve been here for nearly a whole month and you are the person I feel closest to,” she confessed.

You felt flattered, though you knew telling you that she felt close to you wasn’t exactly the point of why she said that.

Wanda further reflected aloud, “I’m getting nowhere I’m supposed to, not finding the call to God like both my parents and the nuns told me about though I have even given it plenty of time. I studied English in college and yet can find not even a little interest in my religious readings.”

While she thought in silence for a moment, you didn’t interrupt her.

When she found the words to verbalise what she’d been meaning to say, she began with a question: “Do you remember when you asked what my own intentions were for myself? On Thursday?”

You nodded.

“It’s ridiculous, but I can’t even recall the last time I sincerely asked that to myself, but perhaps in shallower terms, such as wondering where I might be in a few years or what I might do with my time in the convent.

“But never what I wanted — never who I wanted to be.”

After a moment, when you were sure she wasn’t trying to find words to express herself nor contemplating whether to say something, you asked, “And do you know who you want to be?”

For a brief moment — half of one, really — Wanda looked thoughtful, and then she said and gestured to her clothing and the prayer room, “Not this.”

“So then, what?” you inquired further.

You teased, “A vet?”

Wanda giggled and sat back a bit in her seat. “Perhaps if I were ten,” she said.

Then more seriously, she added, “But now, I’m not very sure.”

“How did you come to realise what you were interested in?” Wanda asked. “For example, your studies. What are you studying?”

She was talking fast, obviously very invested in your conversation together and also rather curious about you.

You thought that was cute; you liked Wanda.

“I’m studying philosophy,” you told her to which she straightened and was eager to hear more about. “But with studies, it’s different, because you’re talking about more personal matters. Academics are far different from personal paths.”

Wanda seemed a bit disappointed because she was looking for a definite answer, but what you explained certainly made sense to her.

She pondered about something then instead asked, “So about personal matters, then. What about those?”

“What about them?”

“Give me a principle to follow,” she sought. “Something I might be able to apply here. Something as general as you’d like it to be, but applicable.”

Her steadily growing smile made it clear that though she was certainly looking for advice, she also thoroughly enjoyed exchanging quips with you and exploring more about you.

In a way, she was as eager to learn about you than how to help herself, if not more so.

You hummed thoughtfully and Wanda watched as you were deep in thought.

“A principle for you,” you said, “could easily be that it’s okay to be selfish, to think only of yourself when you’ve spent so long doing anything else.”

Wanda asked, slightly amused but far more curious, “You recommend hedonism?”

“To you?”

She nodded.

You replied, “Indubitably.”

If you hadn’t already been thinking of Wanda in painfully great amounts before that morning, then you certainly were afterwards.

The third week came around and by then Wanda was banging against every square inch of your skull like an intruder, necessitating the need to be seen and thought of every other minute in any way you could.

Perhaps the relationship you developed with her thus far was one of friendship and nothing more, yet her persistence that never strayed too far from your mind seemed to you that she had become reminiscent of something greater than a platonic figure.

In any case, you had to muster the ability to ask your dad in the most nonchalant manner you could if it were possible for you attend Sunday’s service.

You did it in a way that did not make it seem to him that you were about to become a familiar face in the church, but rather that someone had simply happened to ask you for help during the last service and wondered if you might be able to attend the next — which is quite literally what you told him.

It wasn’t a lie.

Not even when you said that it was a young woman who was studying to become a novitiate at the convent that was curious about the choir and the other volunteers and had asked you about it last week, because Wanda did truly ask about the choir and the other people who volunteered at the church once.

But that wasn’t at all the reason why you wanted to attend the service that Sunday.

“Y/N,” a voice called in a hushed tone when you passed the hallway leading up to the choir stairway where your dad had already walked up towards.

You slipped away from the people filing into the pews and quickly came to Wanda’s side.

“Don’t you have places to be aside from fraternising with the guests?” you teased as she took your wrist and led you towards the room you both seemed to like talking in the most.

“After last week’s ordeal with the book, I’ve been put on some kind of probation from participating in the services so I have more time to study independently,” she told you, not seeming particularly worried.

She added, “On Sundays, the convent is rather empty, so they wouldn’t notice that I’m off not studying. Though I could very well say I chose to study in one of the extra prayer rooms here.”

“And I’m sure they remember how much you love the prayer rooms here,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows at your reference to her having lost the book in one of them.

Wanda faked a laugh in the driest manner you’d ever heard and you nudged her arm to which she told you to stop joking around with her so she could tell you something important.

She closed the prayer room door and sat you down beside her.

From a small bag on the chair to her left, she pulled out a small dictionary.

Here, you were tempted to make fun of her and ask why she was carrying around a dictionary so tiny, but you recalled that she had wanted to ask you about something serious.

She flipped open to a page she had bookmarked.

“Hedonism,” she read aloud. “In philosophy, the belief that pleasure and the absence of pain is the most important principle in determining the morality of an action.”

Wanda looked up at you from the dictionary. “This is what you meant?” she asked.

You nodded.

Curiously, you inquired, “Do you agree with it?”

She looked back down to the page in which had written three definitions of hedonism, the third being the one defined by philosophy.

The first two you could not quite read upside down.

“I have never heard of it in such detail before the time you mentioned it last week,” she said, running her eyes over the words in contemplation, “but it’s interesting.”

“What would be your first endeavour to pleasure, if you had to make a guess?” you asked her.

Wanda ran over the words of the definition again with her eyes, perhaps still deep in thought about it or absently doing so while she contemplated an answer to your question.

“My first?” she repeated.

You looked down at the dictionary page now that she was holding it at a slightly different angle that oriented the letters better for you.

The first definition read, ‘Pursuit of pleasure.’

And the second — you had to tip your head to the side a bit to decipher it — read, ‘Sensual self-indulgence.’

During your deep concentration, Wanda had come to an answer to your question, and it wasn’t until she leaned forward and kissed your unsuspecting lips that you realised she had even stopped looking at the page.

It was the uttering of her muffled words against your lips that triggered something deep within you, perhaps equally as restrained as her own.

An unfinished sentence, but one on its own nonetheless.

‘I want…’ she had uttered, breathless and with one hand cupping your cheek and feeling with the pads of her fingers the softness of your skin.

With that, you hastily reached forward and grasped at her ass, lifting her from her seat and stripping her down so she was in nothing but her undergarments.

The paths of your nails streaked red against her pale skin while you devoured her every step of the way, your lips following every inch of skin that became exposed to you while your hands made quick work of unzipping her dress and unbuttoning her blouse.

She sighed when you kissed her breasts and squeezed your hands around her waist and hips, taking her selfishly and finally spreading her legs and sitting her down in your lap.

“Are you…” you began between breaths, pausing to figure out your wording and sitting back in your seat to look at her. “Have you had sex?”

Wanda giggled, finding your question amusing. “Of course I have,” she replied and took your hands and placed them on her hips again.

“Cocky,” you jested, hooking your thumb under the clasp of her bra and releasing it so it snapped against her back, causing her to arch her body into you with a soft gasp. “Thought you might’ve been abstinent or something.”

“I don’t mean to be cocky,” she said in a low voice. “But I am certainly not abstinent.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you choose to be.”

“I choose to be,” you said with conviction. “So for whom should I be jealous, then?”

“College students.”

You gasped superficially.

“You fuck college students? Exclusively?”

“No!” she laughed. “I mean I haven’t been very active since my time in college.”

“Haven’t had sex since college?”

She corrected, “I didn’t mean that either.”

“So what did you mean?”

“This conversation is like pulling teeth.”

“Why? You want me to fuck you hard against this floor right now, baby?” you asked. The very crudeness of your words, albeit teasing, made Wanda’s breath hitch, and so within that reaction you found her first tell. “No foreplay or anything?”

“This isn’t foreplay?”

“Hardly.”

“Then what is?” she asked though sounding slightly pouty about it.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re all turned on and impatient from just that. Teasing gets you off?” you pressed. “Didn’t even have to be told how I wanna see your gorgeous ass bruise when I fuck your cunt from behind like you’re my sick little fucktoy whore?”

Her hips twitched.

“Y/N…” she muttered, perhaps out of impatience or forewarning for how you were teasing her, either way you could not tell and weren’t very rushed in trying to figure it out.

You pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts, slapping it lightly with your fingers and causing her to gasp before pinching one of her sensitive pink buds.

There would be no indulging her past what you were willing to indulge; you were careful not to touch her more than what was intentional.

You bucked your hips up under the guise of adjusting your seating, grinding your stiff cock against the soaking panties which were now beginning to soak your pants.

Her cunt was sensitive beyond the thin fabric, causing the strap to rub her perfectly through her soft, swollen folds; you could practically hear how sticky she was without even looking.

“What is that?” she quickly asked, looking down between her thighs. She tried moving back to get a better look, but you quickly held onto her hip with your other hand and pulled her harshly back to her original position, making her throbbing clit rub directly onto your cock.

A strangled yelp was breathed past her lips.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to, you understand?” you told her.

She nodded.

“Everywhere else in this building, there is only one God, but here in this room, I am yours. You will listen to what I tell you and take what I give you, even if it hurts. You’ll be grateful that I make you hurt as much as you will when I give you pleasure.”

In spite of everything, Wanda repressed a tiny smile and said, “You’re scary when you’re authoritative with me.”

You laughed through your nose and replied, “I can get scarier.”

Her smile widened into a grin and Wanda’s hand came to the back of your neck when you leaned forward and kissed her, one arm circling around her waist and carefully slipping her off your lap as you stood from your seat.

“We’ll get caught,” she voiced concern against your lips.

“Then be the lookout.”

You made sure she didn’t trip on her way up to the podium, and soon you had her chest laid flat against the lectern and facing the front doors, the shadow of the large crucifix behind the both of you casted against the red carpet from the morning sun shining from behind the stained glass.

Wanda listened as you unzipped your pants and when she made an attempt to turn her head and look at what you were doing, you put your other hand against her upper back and pressed her back down, reducing her line of sight to your face and shoulder and nothing else.

Her clothed cunt was prodded at, the stiff tip of your strap finding her hole through her panties and nudging at it teasingly. She groaned impatiently and reached back to take hold of your hand, to grab onto anything and urge you forward.

In response, you spanked her harshly and made Wanda yelp out in surprise and wince.

“You dirty, impatient slut,” you spat.

She immediately whimpered, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

That satisfied something in you that you hadn’t even known you wanted, and you were more than happy to share in that satisfaction.

You hummed and tucked a finger under the waistband of Wanda’s panties, making her twitch impatiently while also doing her best to listen to her orders. Then you laid your hand flat against her lower back, rubbing her supportively and making a warm flush form across her face.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Wanda?” you asked, looking up her bent-over half-naked body to the back of her head.

She nodded.

“Good girl,” she confirmed with a nod.

Gently, you squeezed her ass and danced your fingers up to the waistband of her panties that you finally pulled down, exposing her gorgeous, glistening cunt.

It took just as much resistance from you not to shove your cock right into her as much as it took Wanda to not thrust her hips back and grind her clit against your strap.

“Why don’t you tell me all you’ve been studying about the last little while?” you said, running a hand down her ass and sliding a thumb into her pussy, feeling heaps of pride with the way you slipped inside with no resistance.

She was incredibly wet and so, so warm.

Distracted by the way your thumb probed shallowly at her hole, giving her just enough pleasure to make her throb but just short of enough to satisfy her entirely, it took Wanda a few moments to regain her focus before she finally asked, “S-Studying? About what?”

“You’re a smart girl, Wanda,” you encouraged, slowly sliding your thumb out and grazing the pad of it lightly over her swollen slit and across the hood of her clit. “Methods on how to be a proper nun. For example, swear yourself to the Lord, abstain from sex, so on and so forth.”

Wanda swallowed and tried her best to focus with the way your thumb began spreading her cunt out, revealing to you the glistening folds of her pussy. She began stuttering and finally squeezed her eyes shut hard enough to be able to recall some of her studies.

“Um, there was…” she uttered and ran her fingers along the edge of the wooden lectern, “living in modesty; not showing off one’s body in any crude manner, not partaking in pleasures of the flesh.”

Three of your fingers began rubbing slow circles against Wanda’s hole, squelching against her dripping cunt and making her tremble and moan shakily.

“And what next?” you asked.

“I-I can’t… Can’t focus…” she told you helplessly.

Your thumb flicked at her clit and Wanda’s body jerked forward.

“One more,” you urged. “Come on. Give me one more good one and I’ll fuck you with my cock. You want that, don’t you?”

Intentionally, you began to focus on her clit now, having your index finger graze it as your middle and ring finger slowly began delving in and out of her sticky hole, purposefully making it even more difficult for Wanda to find the words for herself.

“I want… I want that,” she shuddered, hanging her head and squeezed her eyes shut again.

“So, then, give me one more.”

Wanda’s breathing deepened as she tried her hardest to focus.

With every intention to make it more difficult for her, you reached up with your other hand and pulled her bra down, allowing you access to knead her breast and feel her nipple harden against the palm of your hand.

She whimpered into her arm and bit down on her bottom lip.

You stepped forward and removed your fingers from her cunt to rub the length of your strap through her pussy, wet fingers taking hold of its base and running it through her swollen folds.

“A-Ah, Y/N, please…” she mewled, though neither of you were quite sure whether she was begging for you to stop and allow her to think thoroughly or for you to have mercy on her completely and just fuck her.

“One more,” you reiterated and aligned the tip of your cock with her entrance.

You placed both hands on her hips and began pulling her backwards, fucking her shallowly and watching her pussy take your cock with just as much anticipation as Wanda was struggling to withhold.

She hugged around you beautifully and it was truly only the tip; you couldn’t wait another moment to fuck her until she was begging for you to fuck her until it hurt.

“A-Another,” she finally trembled out, “is to be, by nature, a woman of submission, to worship your God and seek no amount of personal domination over–”

Fully satisfied with her answer and terribly impatient yourself, your fingernails dug into Wanda’s hips and you jerked her ass back against you, forcing her to take your entire cock in one swift movement.

She cried out and you wrapped a hand around her waist, running your nails down her side and feeling an inexplicable need to mark her, to cause her pain, to reduce her to a whimpering trembling, bruised mess so cock-drunk that all she’d feel for the next three days is the aftermath of being rough-fucked like a slut.

“Hit me, please, daddy,” she begged, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the lectern and arching her back.

So you did — repeatedly.

You spanked Wanda over and over, having the sound of your palm meeting her ass echo through the room and only reiterating to the both of you how she was much less of a nun or a student or any reflection of purity, but a braindead nympho whore good for nothing but getting her pussy fucked raw.

She was a loud fuck, crying out in whimpers and moans and other strings of partially-comprehensible words telling you how good your cock felt and how much she loved getting fucked by you.

The playing organs and belting choir playing during the service muffled Wanda out, but Jesus Christ, if any of them out there had been able to hear her getting fucked down the hallway, they might just think for a moment that it was the calling of an angel or at least something in some way divine.

But none of them would ever know what it looked like to fuck Wanda from behind, pulling her up with their hand around her neck so you had access to slap her face and spit into her mouth like you could, pinching her clit and fucking her through to her third orgasm.

How beautiful she looked, sweaty and a mess with her long brown hair fanned out and stuck in strands against her back, crying out in equal parts pain and pleasure and finding herself incredibly pleased by being used like a filthy object.

And you’d make sure no one else could get the chance to see the sight but you.

“I’m gonna come again, Y/N,” she cried, breasts pressed against the cold wood of the lectern and arms pressed against her back. “This is my last, please, I can’t take anymore.”

You let go of her wrists and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her from the lectern. She was arched at a slight angle so your arm could assist in continuing to fuck her, but she was now much closer, and she was now able to loll her head back against your shoulder.

“This is the closest thing a slut like you will ever get to heaven, angel,” you told her, kissing her temple. “Make your God proud and come on my cock, filthy bitch.”

Wanda reached back and held onto you for support while her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parting as a silent cry escaped her, her third and final orgasm coming over her without mercy.

You squeezed at her breast and leaned your head down and bit at her shoulder and up the back of her neck, getting in as many markings of your ownership as you could.

She sighed out and uttered your name, to which you ran your hands up her stomach, one hand moving up to her face and gently tilting her head over so you could kiss her lips.

Her knees buckled out and you carefully set her down on the floor before sitting down beside her. Wanda panted heavily into your chest, one hand on your knee and the other arm wrapped around your shoulder.

You had your arms around her waist, rubbing her back supportively and whispering in her ear words upon words of how beautiful she looked, how good she’d been for you, then soon confessing how much you’d been thinking of her over the last few weeks, how much of your mind she occupied and how much of your time you spent thinking of her.

Wanda liked hearing that last part most, but she particularly enjoyed when you told her how it felt to masturbate to her, to imagine her looking up at you and choking on your cock at your final point of release, and how really being with her was plenty more enjoyable and, quite frankly, more beautiful than you ever could’ve fantasised about on your own.

The both of you were on your knees, sweaty with the labour of sex and kneeling in each other’s arms at the foot of the towering crucifix, whispering and giggling to each other all the equally sweet and dirty confessions you could exchange before the service was over.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen #heliumknife

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doumadono · 4 months

Note

think if reader had muzan's child and they're breastfeeding their baby & he see the child getting milk, would he be like 'hey. gimme some of that.' i imagine reader would be flustered but down for it aha

SINFUL SUNDAY

Muzan found himself in an unexpected situation. Clad in his usual elegant attire, Muzan stood beside you, the mother of his child, as you cradled your newborn in your arms. The soft glow of the moonlight falling through a large window bathed the chamber.

Your infant, a delicate mix of human and demon heritage, nestled against your chest, eagerly latching onto your breast for sustenance.

Muzan observed with a calculating gaze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he fixated on the scene before him. "I want some of that too," Muzan's voice, smooth and tinged with arrogance, sliced through the silence. His eyes bore into yours, a twisted curiosity playing in their depths. There was a certain arrogance in his demeanor, as if he believed that even the act of breastfeeding held a power dynamic that he could exploit.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by his audacity. "You're a demon king, Muzan-sama. I hardly think breast milk is on the menu for someone of your stature."

Muzan's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing sharp fangs. "Stature has nothing to do with cravings, my dear mortal. A feeble concoction of life's essence, bestowed upon the weak and vulnerable is making me curious." The demon king circled around you, his gaze never leaving the child at your breast.

With a sense of reluctant compliance, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate dance required to navigate the temperamental whims of the father of your child. Gently cradling the infant in your arms, you approached a meticulously crafted wooden crib, adorned with the most opulent silk blanket money could buy. You carefully nestled the child within the confines of its plush sanctuary.

Upon your return to Muzan's presence, you once again nodded, a gesture that carried the weight of unspoken acquiescence. The Demon Lord, perched regally, regarded you with an air of entitlement as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him on an elegantly crafted couch. Complying, you lowered yourself gracefully onto the plush cushions, the atmosphere tinged with a subtle tension.

Without delay, Muzan's hands moved with a possessive confidence, cupping yours breast in a gesture that bespoke both control and desire. Muzan deftly slid the strap of your nightgown from your shoulder, revealing a portion of your chest. His gaze fixated on the rounded swell of your breast, brimming with nourishing milk. The baby's suckling had left the aureola of your breast darkened.

The demon bent down, taking the bud into his mouth. He began to suckle gently, ensuring the sharp edges of his fangs didn't cause any discomfort to you. As the milk flowed into his mouth, he hummed with satisfaction, savoring the runny sweetness that gradually evolved with each sip.

You found yourself in a bewildering situation, unsure of how to react as he drank your milk. Eventually, you tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, seeking a semblance of stability.

He continued to suckle, delicately pressing against the breast with his chilly hand. His long, pointed nails lightly brushed against the tender flesh, making you yelp a little.

"Shhh," he whispered, taking the bud out of his mouth to look directly at you. "We don't want the baby to wake up."

Muzan swiftly removed your remaining sleeve of the nightgown, revealing your chest completely to his hungry, crimson eyes. He then shifted his focus to the other breast, wrapping his lips around the hardened nipple. He took his time, gently sucking while flicking his tongue against the hardened bud. The milk spilled into his mouth again, prompting a satisfied hum. The entire experience, he realized, had an unintended consequence — his pants felt uncomfortably tight in the crotch.

The experience had a profound effect on you as well. You moaned quietly in relief as he eased the tension in your breasts by gently drinking the accumulated milk. "Oh, my lord," you whispered, gently caressing his shoulder.

Muzan took your hand and directed it toward his groin, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

Without a second thought, you sensed the texture of his hardened penis through the fabric of his pants and began to delicately massage it whilst his tongue massaged the erected nipple.

As things intensified, Muzan pulled away, fixing a stern gaze on your flushed face. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his tone firm and demanding. "I want to take you, right here and now. And who knows, perhaps you'll birth me another heir soon."

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #anime smut #muzan kibutsuji #muzan smut #muzan x you #muzan x reader #kny muzan #muzan x y/n #kny smut #muzan x reader smut #muzan kny #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #lord muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kibutsuji muzan #kibutsuji kny #divider by cafekitsune

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vmp3ater · 2 months

Note

omg those sub! sunday thirsts are making me screech i swearrr

man needs to be controlled for once whether its edging him, pounding him with a strap, it dont matter!!! what if his wings r a turn on

subbot sunday x domtop afab reader

I NEED HIM SO BAD BRO

fucking sunday with a strap from behind, fucking him roughly because you think he needs to be controlled for once. the tip of the strap hitting all the right spots inside him, even grazing his prostate as you fuck him hard and fast, moaning and grabbing the pillows for purchase as he begs for more

his wings r def a turn on, u didn’t hear that from me. just lightly brush your fingers against them while fucking him, tug on them ever so slightly or use them as handlebars while you fuck him from behind and he’ll be cumming buckets in no time. pulling his hair felt good enough but when it’s his wings oh god he can’t ever get enough.

#vmp thirsts.#sunday thirsts.#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #sub honkai star rail #hsr smut #hsr x reader #sub hsr #sunday #sunday smut #sunday x reader #sub sunday #bottom sunday #dom reader #top reader #afab reader

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some-bunniii · 2 months

Text

Consoling Lucifer on Charlie’s first day of school

・❥ Charlie’s growing up, and Lucifer isn’t taking it well. Luckily, you’re there to keep the King of Hell standing on two feet.

x: just a short fic about a super soft lucifer who loves his daughter, i had some fun with this haha. reader is g/n and also has a parental role. no use of y/n.

~ 1.5k words

warning: tooth-rotting parental love

“Are you crying, Daddy?” The tiny apple-cheeked figure asked, her head tilted curiously up towards the almost identical-looking porcelain face standing a few feet away from her, his hand over his eyes as he rubbed at them feverishly.

“No,” He lied, his lips curved into a tight-lipped smile as he bit back tears, “It’s just allergies, Apple Pie.”

Lucifer’s eyes trailed back onto the poofy red dress Charlie wore. The intricate, black lines and little hearts woven into its soft fabric made her even more adorable in the outfit. She also sported snow-white stockings, and a pair of sparkly red shoes that glinted in the light as Charlie smiled giddily, excited about the new adventure.

A small red bowtie was nestled into her hair, which was styled in a large braid that ended at the middle of her back. It swayed softly as the young girl bounced in place, becoming antsy by the second.

You stood right beside him, smiling happily at Charlie as she looked up at the two of you. It was you who had gotten her ready, no doubt did you think she looked like a beautiful little princess. However, you were not expecting such an emotional reaction from your husband, Lucifer Morningstar, when you presented her outfit to him.

It was Charlie’s first day of lessons, which means—in Lucifer’s opinion—she was finally leaving the nest. Except for the fact she was still considered just a youngling when it came to being Hellborn, and Charlie still needed her father to read her a story every night before bed. She still has trouble reaching items on the counter, and remembering all the letters of the alphabet. She was far from flying off on her own, she was still her father’s little duckling.

He was already nervous the days leading up to this morning, and you had watched him flip through baby book after baby book. Each contains hundreds of photos depicting from when Charlie was a newborn, and through last Sunday.

Whenever Charlie so much and breathed cutely, Lucifer was pulling out that camera and saving it for the album. Especially when he got a hold of a yellow duck onesie? The man was a goner, and the bookshelf was beginning to fill with rows of binders filled with polaroids.

Yesterday, you had been in the process of cleaning out a closet of rarely used items, when you stumbled upon a pair of Charlie’s old baby boots.

Lucifer had just walked into the room when his eyes landed on the tiny boots. They obviously wouldn’t fit the girl now, as she had grown out of them long ago. It definitely stirred something inside the fallen angel when his lip began to quiver from the doorway, and slowly walked over to you sitting on the edge of the bed.

He took the boots from your hands, his thumb brushing softly over the small velcro straps. Charlie was old enough to start wearing laces, and she needed his help getting tying her shoes less and less as the months went by. That thought made him collapse onto you, tears brimming his eyes.

“She had such adorable little feet!” Lucifer wailed in your lap, as you soothingly petted his hair. There were multiple photos in his hands, all of baby Charlie, “Her toes just don’t look like little sausages anymore, it’s not as cute!”

“At least she’s not a hobbit,” you replied, brushing a stray tear from his face.

“I don’t even know what that means!” He had sobbed.

It wasn’t like she was going off to college or anything, yet the way Lucifer clutched her baby blanket in his free hand—which she only stopped sleeping with 2 days ago—made it seem like the girl was not coming back from a few hours of teachings.

“I packed you some snacks. Apple slices, and some funnel cake. Eat the fruit first, it’s healthy for you. Want to grow up big and strong, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh!” Charlie nodded with enthusiasm, smiling brightly.

“That’s my girl,” Lucifer choked back tears, nodding approvingly.

“Honey, she’s going to be late, hurry up and say goodbye,” you prodded gently, smiling warmly with clasped hands. You had been silently on standby, this was a much more emotional moment for Lucifer than you, he needed the space and time with his munchkin.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he growled softly at himself, “look at me, all worked up over nothing. What a joke of a King.”

Lucifer lowered himself to one knee and reached out a hand, and Charlie walked forward returning the touch. Her tiny hands were engulfed in his palm as he curled his fingers tenderly around them. The fallen angel met his daughter's gaze, before taking a deep breath.

“I love you, Charlie.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” Charlie laughed, before leaping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Lucifer pulled her in, nuzzling into her hair as she squeezed him tightly.

Even if Charlie grew apart from her father as she got older, you’d know she’d always be a daddy’s girl. It was Lucifer whom she invited for tea time among her stuffed animals, and it was he she asked to dance with when the radio’s soft melodies filled the lounge during the evenings as the three of you relaxed by the warm fireplace.

It made your heart flutter with how similar the two were, and the way Lucifer fawned over Charlie like he’d never seen a more beautiful soul.

“My best creation,” he had whispered with a smile one night, while the two of you were sitting on the balcony, the alcohol buzzing inside your mind as you held his hand from across the small table. Those words had made your love for him continue to grow, if that were even possible in the first place.

Lucifer and Charlie stayed locked in an embrace for a few moments on the floor before the girl released him, and Lucifer’s arms slowly lowered from her abdomen as she took a few steps back towards the door.

“Go on, now! Don’t let me keep you waiting, just remember to crush it.” Lucifer waved his daughter off, and she jumped with joy.

“Okay! Bye, Daddy!” Charlie giggled, her little red dress bouncing along with her toes as she quickly turned away towards the open door of her room.

“Have fun, Charlie!” You called after her, as Lucifer slowly rose from his position near the floor.

“I will! Bye!” She replied, running down the hall, her little bag bouncing in her hands as she scampered away to…

…her private tutor’s small classroom at the end of the long hallway. The three of you had been wishing the girl farewell in her large bedroom inside the family manor, which meant Charlie’s teaching wasn't even outside of the home.

That made Lucifer’s reaction even more humorous, but it was also incredibly sweet. The ruler of Hell, a nasty, bitter place, was a cinnamon roll behind the bad-boy act that he played so well in front of the rest of the realm.

When Lucifer stood straight again, you turned your head to face him. The sight before you caused you to clamp your lips shut tight, trying to suppress your laughter at Lucifer’s disheveled figure.

His hair looked messier than before he had said goodbye, and his face was soaked with tears. Lucifer’s lip quivered, and he quickly averted his gaze, slamming his hand over his face to contain his quiet sobs. The man was practically in shambles.

“What’s wrong with me?” He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, “I can’t control my emotions when it comes to Charlie.”

“Sorry to break it to you, Your Highness, but you’re in love,” you cooed, shaking your head with a smile as Lucifer sniffled beside you. He pulled a hand-embroidered handkerchief from his waistcoat, dabbing underneath his eyes to clean the fresh tears.

“Come on, Lou. How about I make you some pancakes for breakfast?” You said softly, lacing your fingers with his as you tugged him towards the opposite end of the hall.

“Really?” He sniffled, looking at you with glistening eyes.

“Mhmm,” your hands lifted to cup his face, tenderly squishing those small red spots as you replied with a honeyed tone, “Heaven knows how the ‘Big Boss of Hell’ can be such a softy. Don’t worry, Charlie will be back by lunchtime, and maybe we’ll go on a picnic, hm?”

Your free hand went up toward the fallen angel’s head, and your nails softly grazed his scalp as you pulled his hair back into a more uniform appearance. After fussing with it for a moment, you leaned in and placed a tender kiss on his forehead.

“A picnic sounds nice, I have no idea how you always have a remedy to everything,” He said softly as you pulled away, an adoring smile on his lips as you turned to tug him down the hall.

“Years of practice,” you laughed, as the two of you walked towards the large kitchen, passing loving glances between the other.

At least, with Charlie away for a few hours, you and your husband could get some alone time together. God knows the poor man needed it.

lucifer is just so soft for his little princess whether it’s beating the shit out of adam or playing tea party it makes me just 🤭🥴 like damn

hope you enjoyed the lil snack, have a great day! 🤍

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hellaverse #hazbin hotel x reader #luci my beautiful twink #stay strong soldier

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jediskywalkerblog · 1 month

Note

I think the Briar series of her being obsessed with reader would be cute! Like a cute step mom fic ❤️

Thanks for your request anon, can’t wait to write this one!🥹🫶🏼

You meet his daughter - Hayden Christiensen

You're lay on the sofa cuddling with Hayden, watching your favourite movie on the TV when his phone goes. It's one of your lazy Sundays...

"Sorry baby" he says as he pauses the tv to answer the phone.

"It's ok Hay" you say as you snuggle under the blanket and into his chest a little more.

"Hey Rachel" You never know what's going to be said when his ex wife calls out of the blue. Maybe about money?

"I know its not your day, but could you possibly have Briar for the day?" you hear Rachel say down the phone... You've never met Haydens daughter but you've always wanted to, ever since you met him one whole year ago.

Hay looks down at you looking for your confirmation, you shake your head as you eyes light up. You finally get to meet Briar.

"I'll pick her up in an hour" Hay says before hanging up the phone. Before he can even say anything you jump up off the sofa in excitement. You get to meet mini Hay!

"Hay, I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet her" you say making him smile up at you before he gets up off the sofa and pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss.

"I'm glad baby, we need to get ready... we have an hour." he says as he leads you into the bedroom to get changed out of your cozy pjs into something casual.

"what are we going to do with her?" you ask as you rummage through your wardrobe wondering what to wear.

"Was thinking the beach or the park, she loves them" Hay says as he slips a tee and some joggers on... you love seeing him like this, all casual and comfy.

"I guess I'll go with a dress then" you say making hay smile as he sits down on the bed and watches you with his prying eyes.

"you look beautiful, Briar will love you" Hay says as he pulls you in for a kiss... "we've got to go baby" He says before slipping a cap on, covering up his curls. You decide to slip your sandals on that go with your dress.

...

When the two of you pull up at Rachel's house you can't help but feel nervous. You're about to meet Haydens child... Hay picks up on your nerves and pulls you in for a hug.

"She's going to love you baby" He says before pulling you in for a kiss. "I'll be back in a second" Hay says as he gets out of the car, all you can do is sit there and wait.

About 2 minutes pass then you're looking out of the car window at Hayden walking towards the car with a beautiful little girl in his arms. She's wearing a little white hat and some sunglasses, she's the cutest.

As Hay is strapping her into her car seat he introduces you to her. "Briar, this is (Y/N), she's very special to daddy" He says as you turn around to wave at her.

"Hey Briar!" you say as you smile at her.

"Hey (Y/N)" she says as she waves her little hands at you. Hayden looks up and smiles at you before closing Briars door and getting into the drivers seat.

"beach daddy?" Briar asks, making the two of you smile.

"I told you she'd want go to the beach." Hay says as you laugh.

"Yes baby, were going to the beach with (Y/N)" He says as he grabs onto out hand.

"Can we build sandcastles with (Y/N)?" your heart is so full at this moment.

"I'd love to build them with you" you say making her face light up.

...

When you pull up to the car park Briar can barely stay in her seat, she's so excited. "Here we are baby" Hay says as he gets out of the car to get Briar out of her seat.

"Daddy! The beach!" Briar says as she jumps up and down whilst Hay gets the buckets and spades out of the boot. "come on (Y/N)" Briar says as she grabs onto your hand. You turn around to see Hayden smiling at the two of you as he follows you.

"It seems I've been replaced" Hay says as he sits down onto the sand with you whilst you help briar makes mini sandcastles.

"Sorry Hay" you say before kissing him on the lips.

"Its your turn (Y/N)" Briar says as she hands you the little bucket and spade with her little hands.

"My castle won't be as good as your Briar" you say as you fill the bucket up with sand...

The rest of the day is spent with a whole lot of sandcastles, sandy toes, ice creams, cuddles and kisses. You wouldn't want it any other way.

Hope you guys liked this one, I loved writing it🥹💕

- @jediskywalkerblog 🚀✨🛸

#anakin x reader #hayden christensen #star wars anakin #starwarsedit #star wars blog #starwars imagine #anakin fanfiction #anakin gif #anakin imagine #anakin x you #haydenchristiensenimagines #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x reader #haydenchristensenedit #hchristensenedit #hayden christensen fanfiction

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ryuluvr · 5 months

Text

livestream. (wlw, smut)

summary: you’re a popular cam!girl and ask your girlfriend, shin ryujin, to make a special appearance one evening.

warnings: dom!ryujin, cam!girl!reader, strap (reader receiving), praise & degradation generally used together, rough, masturbation, mommy kink.

word count: 1.6k

requested: yes! tysm for sending this in!!

you wave to the webcam as a sweet smile forms on your face, the livestream finally connecting like planned. as per your schedule, you went live from your spacious bedroom every wednesday, friday and sunday to give your viewers a personalised show.

“hi everyoneee!” you cheerfully greeted your viewers as you watched the comments roll in - some complimenting you, some asking how you are, but most asking what the plan was for tonights stream. amused with the engagement, you adjust yourself on your seat before parting your lips to respond.

“i actually have a surprise for today’s stream! i’m certain a lot of you will be very pleased.” a light giggle follows and your cheeks flush a pink shade just from the thought of the session to follow, knowing the secret was that your girlfriend was to join in on the fun.

you deeply inhale and exhale as the anticipation builds up inside you. this has been your little side job for multiple months now, but it’s still just as exciting knowing people were watching you get off as when you first started. it wasn't entirely about making money for you. after connecting with your viewers for a while, you proceeded with tonights stream, leaning back into your gaming chair with your legs spread wide and gently resting over the arms of it. your dominant hand trails down to your core and your fingers lightly touch your clit from over your black lace lingerie, tracing circles over it causing a soft moan to leave your lips. you increased pressure after a couple minutes due to your patience growing thin, feeling dizzy due to the pleasure. “ah fuck..” your pace quickened and you felt your pussy aching, but the sudden sound of the bedroom door opening made you freeze in your tracks. it was ryujin.

your girlfriend entered wearing her jet black sports bra and matching pants, her hair down and messy, which you secretly loved. after what felt like minutes of admiring her beauty your eyes locked in on the strap she was gripping onto. it wasn’t shocking to you since its been used before, but you just haven’t been fucked on camera with it up until now. but with the way you’re so worked up right now, you’re desperate for it to be inside you — desperate to be fucked completely senseless by ryujin for your hundreds of viewers.

“hi, baby..” ryujin spoke to you almost as low as a grown, smirking at you before turning to the webcam and waving at everyone. her face from her nose up was out of shot, but generally she's never afraid to show herself.

instinctively, your hand rests back over your clothed but sopping core causing you to whine softly. your girlfriend wasted no time adjusting the strap on herself perfectly, afterwards slipping her bra off over her head, as well as yours, and tossed them both to the ground without a single care.

“ryu, please…” you couldn’t stay still and ryujin found that cute. you’re always so eager for her. she leaned down towards you in the chair and firmly took your arm in her hand, silently leading you towards the bed where she ordered you to lay and you obliged.

“don’t worry, guys.” ryujin whispered to the viewers as she quickly pushed the chair out of view to reveal the bed behind it, the smirk visible on her lips.

after making her way back over to you, your girlfriend wraps her long, slender fingers around the strap and you immediately buck your hips up in desperation.

“pull your panties to the side, baby. let me see that pretty pussy.” her words made you whimper louder than you wanted to but you never moved faster, moving the material to the right only to reveal your slick-covered core. it glistened in the bedroom light and the cold air hitting it caused you to hiss, your legs spreading wider without giving it any thought.

“that’s it, good girl.” ryujin chuckled right before she spoke, two of her fingers moving down to catch your juices by your entrance. “how bad do you want it? you wanna be fucked like a slut, huh? tell me, baby."

in response you sat up a little, keeping yourself up by your elbows, your eyes eventually leaving the strap to set on ryujins lips. she quickly noticed this and bent down to meet you at your level, hungrily pressing her lips against yours, her tongue asking for entrance, which you obviously allow. your mind grew foggy with each second that passed, beginning to feel drunk off the way her soft lips moved against yours. the sudden feeling of ryujin's middle finger poking at your entrance made you pull away and lightly gasp, but the other woman wasn't having any of it. her lips crashed against yours once more as she slipped her finger into your wet pussy, not giving you much time to adjust before moving it in and out of you.

"i said tell me you want me. come on, you can do that, right? or is my baby finding it hard to think?" she muttered against your lips.

all you could do for now is moan out multiple "please"s and "need you"s in response, your girlfriend's pace quickening. it is true - you can't ever form a single thought in that dirty mind of yours when she has her way with you and that wasn't going to change for quite a while.

ryujin mumbled something under her breath as she felt your walls clench around her fingers, attentively watching how you wildly bucked up your hips in an attempt to feel her even deeper. she soon took her fingers out of you, which felt like torture in the moment, and she lifted them to her mouth to lick them completely clean.

"you taste so sweet, angel. you ready?" your girlfriend asked in a soft tone and you took no time to answer "yes". after taking the strap back in her hand, she pressed the tip against your slit, gently pushing the whole length into you. your back pressed against the bed like before and your arm moved up to cover your face, whining loudly to your embarrassment. ryujin adjusts herself above you, her eyes dark and full of lust now. she took your wrist in her hand and held it above your head, your free hand reaching down to rub light circles over your sensitive clit as she fucked into you. it started off fairly gentle but quickly became more rough and borderline animalistic, it starting to dawn on you that it wouldn't take you many minutes to come at this point.

your pornographic moans and gasps filled the room, ryujin moving at such an urgent pace you could barely handle it. your cheeks flushed a dark pink shade as you noticed the sound of your wetness, your walls compliantly sucking ryujin in.

"you're taking mommy so well, baby. such a good little whore for me, huh?" ryujin growled close to your ear, her breathing growing more ragged with every sharp thrust she made. she knew talking to you like this would send you over the edge. she never expects any coherent words in response, no, but she just loves watching you turn into a needy dumb mess for her.

your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto the bedsheets beneath you and your girlfriend. your back arched upwards to follow, a series of whimpers and moans escaping your lips that so desperately missed hers. "fuck- ryu... mommy, i can't!" you practically screamed out in pure pleasure as you neared your climax, ryujin letting out a low moan when she noticed the ring of your arousal forming at the base of the strap. you knew this would leave you sore for days but you couldn't care less.

"cum for me, fuck.. cum for mommy." your girlfriend practically slammed into you and the ceiling moved in your sight with every thrust, ryujin's breath catching as you began to tense up. your fingers on your swollen clit worked more aggressively now and you let out the most obscene moans possible, coming completely undone in an instant. your orgasm shuddered through your entire body and your eyes squeezed shut, ryujin making sure to fuck you nicely through it all. you couldn't think, couldn't comprehend anything. you hesitantly opened your eyes back up and took your fingers off of your sensitive clit once you came back down from your high, ryujin slowing down until she came to a total stop. involuntarily, your whole body twitched underneath her and you were aware if you tried to get up your legs would let you down. you were quite literally seeing stars.

your girlfriend patiently waited for you to come back to your senses before gently pulling the strap out of your pussy, the string of slick and cum still connecting the two. she flopped down beside you after pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, deciding to lay down flat on her back. not for a single moment did her eyes leave yours, and it was evident in this moment that you both forgot you still had an audience.

"so good for me, baby. good job." ryujin's tone was somehow softer than before, however her next request caused a quiet whine to leave your lips. she deeply exhaled as she tapped just to the side of the strap base, licking her lips no more than two times.

"i wanna watch my baby girl ride me. don't worry, I'll hold you up." she teased - you could tell she was getting cocky but god, you loved it.

"I'm not done playing with you yet."

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circeius-invidioso · 2 months

Text

I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

#warhammer #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k #shitpost #red corsairs #chaos ultramarines #chaos space marines #games workshop #black library #huron is the chaos ultramarines representation we deserve

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candycandy00 · 2 months

Text

The Doll House - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 3

When your younger sister is tricked into selling herself to the Doll House, you rush there to help her, only to find her being led away by her trainer, Choso. Moved by your desire to save your sister, he convinces the owner to let you take her place.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Choso’s. I’m keeping the tag list from previous parts. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. FemDom. Sub Choso. Oral sex. Pegging. Strap ons. Divider by @benkeibear!

The next morning, Choso is up earlier than usual, excitedly moving around the room, making sure the place is neat with no “toys” in plain view. Now you know why he keeps them in a nondescript drawer, right below his sock drawer.

You watch him with a smile on your face. You know exactly how he feels. Your own sister has visited you a couple of times, and both times it made you very happy. Family is such a precious thing.

When ready, he leaves to go pick up his brother, and you look forward to a fun Sunday.

Choso isn’t gone long. Yuji’s grandfather must not live too far away. The little boy runs in through the front door, beating Choso inside, looking perfectly at ease in what is essentially a brothel. He looks just like his picture, pink hair and big bright eyes. He stops right in front of you and grins as he asks, “Are you Choso’s new girlfriend?”

You grin back. “Yeah, sure. And you must be Yuji!”

“That’s me!”

Choso walks through the door, carrying a bag of, you assume, Yuji’s things. He’s beaming as he watches his little brother chat with you, asking your name and how long you’ve been living at the Doll House. Then Yuji smiles and says, “You’re really pretty!”

This kid! Such a charmer! “Thank you! You’re a very handsome young man yourself!”

He turns to Choso once he notices his big brother has caught up to him. “Is Megumi here?”

Choso shakes his head. “Not today. He only visits every now and then, remember?”

Yuji is quiet for a moment, as if thinking hard, then he suddenly says, “I’ll go ask Toji to go get him!” And then he runs toward the hallway.

“Who’s Megumi?” you ask as the two of you follow him down the hall.

“Toji’s son,” Choso replies. “He’s Yuji’s age, so they play together when they happen to be here at the same time.”

“I didn’t realize he’s a dad,” you say, thinking of the somewhat gruff but friendly older man.

Yuji knocks on Toji’s door loudly, his small fist pounding the door until you hear it open from down the hall. Then you hear Toji’s voice.

“Oh, hey Yuji. What do you need?”

You see Yuji lean to the side, as if looking around Toji, into the room. Then you hear his cute little voice say, “Why is that lady naked?”

“Ah, shit!” Toji blurts out, stepping quickly out into the hall, finally coming into your view as he slams his door shut behind him. “Uh, she’s gettin’ ready to take a bath.”

Yuji stares up at him, his face blank. “You said a bad word.”

Toji’s face seems to twitch slightly. “I’m a grownup. You’re allowed to say bad words when you’re a grownup.”

“Really?” Yuji asks, then looks down the hall toward you and Choso. “Is that true?”

Choso gives him an uneasy smile. “We’ll talk about that when you grow up.”

Toji leans against his door and crosses his arms. “So what do you need, kid?”

Yuji returns his attention to the huge trainer. “Can you go get Megumi? I wanna play with him.”

Toji scratches the back of his head. “Megumi’s with his uncle right now. I don’t even know what he’s up to today.”

“Please, Tojiiiii?” Yuji asks, looking up. “He’s my best friend!”

You get the impression that Yuji has a lot of “best friends” but you find this scene too cute to say anything.

Toji sighs. “Alright. I’ll call and see if he wants to come over.”

“Thanks, Toji!” Yuji says, hugging the man’s thigh.

Toji pats the boy’s head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”

A little later, Toji leaves to get his son, and you, Choso, and Yuji grab a snack in the kitchen before sitting down in the welcome room to wait.

Yuji is chatty, telling you about his classmates at school and the soccer team he plays on.

“I’ve scored more goals than anybody else!” he exclaims proudly.

“Really? That’s amazing!” you tell him.

“Yuji is very good at sports,” Choso says. “He’s a lot more athletic than I ever was.”

You glance at Choso, thinking of his well sculpted body and the flexibility he’s shown during your sessions. “You’re pretty athletic though,” you say to him, “and you have a lot of stamina.”

Yuji perks up. “Have you guys been playing together?”

Both you and Choso blush and avert your eyes at the innocent question. “Uh, yeah, we play games sometimes,” you say.

“What kind of games?” Yuji asks.

Choso looks at you awkwardly, opening his mouth to give some kind of answer, but at the same moment, you hear the front door swing open. Yuji, realizing his friend has most likely arrived, jumps up and runs to the lobby, completely forgetting his question.

You and Choso both exhale, then glance at each other. He laughs, and so do you. “What were you going to tell him?” you ask.

“I was going to say Twister,” he says with a grin.

“Good idea.”

Just then Yuji appears in the welcome room again, smiling as he pulls along another little boy by the hand. This must be Toji’s son Megumi. He has dark messy hair and a somewhat sullen expression, but he’s making no attempt to pull his hand free.

“And I brought a new game,” Yuji is saying as he walks toward the hallway, “Curse Fighters 3! It’s awesome! There’s a guy who can shoot his own blood across the screen! And another guy who doesn’t have special moves but he uses all kinds of cool weapons! And one guy fights while wearing a blindfold!”

As their voices fade down the hall, you hear Megumi say, “Who would fight while blindfolded? That’s dumb.”

Toji is standing in the welcome room, looking a little exasperated. Choso looks up at him and smiles apologetically. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Toji shrugs. “It’s fine. Megumi won’t admit it, but he loves playing with Yuji. I think your brother pulls him out of his shell.” Then Toji heads toward the hall. “I’ll go tell the others we’ve got kids here today.”

“Thanks,” Choso says.

Whatever Toji told the other trainers must have worked. When you walk into the dining hall at lunch time, all the dolls you normally see are dressed in regular clothes, even Geto’s and Gojo’s. You don’t see the kids, and wonder if they’re still playing video games as you and Choso begin fixing your plates. Just as you’re about to ask him if you should go get them, the door leading to the kitchen bursts open and Gojo limps into the dining hall.

Megumi is wrapped around one of Gojo’s legs, being dragged along by the tall trainer. Yuji is hanging from Gojo’s neck, and there’s an orange toy arrow stuck under Gojo’s arm.

“Help! Help!” Gojo is shouting dramatically. “The little goblins are attacking!”

Everyone else watches the scene with amusement, aside from Sukuna who simply looks bored. Gojo drags himself to Geto’s table and practically throws himself across it. “Suguru! You have to help me!”

Geto gives him a wicked grin as he crosses his arms. “Help you? Who do you think told them your weakness?”

Gojo pulls himself up, Yuji still holding onto his neck, and looks at Geto with shock as he screams, “Traitor!”

Yuji hops down, pulling the toy arrow free. “Now we know you’re weak to arrows!” he yells as he pokes Gojo with the foam tip.

Megumi disentangles himself and pulls another arrow out from behind him. It must have been stuck through the belt loop of his shorts. He wordlessly jabs the arrow against Gojo’s thigh.

Gojo yelps and jerks away from them, finally collapsing onto the floor. Yuji hoists his arrow into the air and declares, “We did it! We defeated the white haired demon!”

Megumi doesn’t yell, but he does mimic Yuji’s motion, holding his own arrow up. Most of the people in the dining hall, including you and Choso, clap and laugh.

Yuji bows as if he’s an actor on a stage, then he and Megumi are at the food table, already filling plates. Choso walks over and supervises them, making sure they don’t make a mess.

Surprisingly, both boys elect to sit at Nanami’s table with him, chatting animatedly. Choso seems to notice your confusion.

“They like to play with Gojo, but they like to talk to Nanami,” he says.

Looking across the room, you can’t hear what’s being said, but the blonde trainer is looking at the kids with a warm expression while they seem to ramble on to him.

“It’s nice that the other trainers are friendly to them,” you say.

Choso’s smile is lovely. “I’m really thankful to them for being so kind to Yuji. I know he can be a bit… rambunctious. But no one complains.”

Your eyes shift to the table a few feet away with a lone occupant. Sukuna is eating his dinner like usual, taking no interest in the kids.

“Even Sukuna?”

Choso wears an uneasy expression. “Well, he doesn’t complain, but-“

“I don’t like Sukuna!” Yuji suddenly says beside you, seeming to appear at your table out of the blue. “He’s mean!”

You glance nervously at the tattooed trainer, knowing he’s close enough to hear. He looks at Yuji and gives the child a menacing grin. He doesn’t say a word, but from the look on his face, you can practically hear him saying, “The feeling’s mutual, brat!”

Yuji flinches, but doesn’t flee or back down.

“How is he mean?” you ask, curious.

Yuji frowns at the man before turning his attention back to you. “He says bad words all the time without apologizing. He won’t play with me or Megumi, and he never lets me meet his girlfriends!”

Before you can respond, Yuji is already heading back to Nanami’s table. Choso gives a somewhat apologetic wave to Sukuna, who shrugs.

“He never complains, even though Yuji antagonizes him sometimes,” Choso tells you. “But he’s not friendly with him either. I can’t expect everyone to spoil Yuji, so I’m just glad Sukuna puts up with him.”

You relax slightly as the dining hall calms down. Both boys are eating beside Nanami and his doll, and all the other trainers are chatting and eating like normal people. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to look at the screen. Your sister has sent you a message to let you know she finished all her paperwork for starting classes. You send her a happy, cheering emoji and smile as you put your phone away.

************************

Hours later, after dinner, Choso and his doll are walking down the hall, toward the kitchen. Yuji and Megumi said they want a “snack for dessert”, so they ran ahead to pick something.

As the two adults approach the door to the kitchen, his doll suddenly freezes and holds up a hand, silencing whatever Choso was saying.

“Did Yuji just say he could climb to reach something?”

Choso is momentarily confused. He didn’t hear anything. But the doll dashes through the door at top speed, Choso following after her.

As they burst into the kitchen, they see Yuji on top of the counter, in the process of falling backwards off it. Choso’s immediate reaction is to try to dive for him, but his doll is closer. She rushes forward and catches Yuji in her arms, the two of them falling to the floor. She lands on her ass, cradling Yuji, protecting him from the impact.

She barely takes a moment to wince before she’s looking the child over. “Are you okay?”

Yuji looks stunned for a few seconds, but quickly recovers. “I’m fine!”

She sighs with relief, then her face becomes stern. “Don’t ever do that again! Climbing on the counters is dangerous. You could’ve been hurt!”

Yuji looks shocked. He’s not used to being scolded by anyone besides his grandpa. Choso is well aware that he’s way too soft on Yuji, and perhaps a strong scolding is good for him, especially in a case like this.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says, looking dejected as he climbs out of the doll’s lap.

She gets to her feet and smiles down at him. “It’s okay. Just be careful from now on, okay? You scared me. Think about how sad your brother would be if you got hurt while visiting him.”

Yuji looks at Choso, his big eyes glossy. “Sorry, Choso!”

Choso walks over and rubs Yuji’s hair affectionately. “I’m not mad. I’m just relieved that you’re okay.”

“I told him not to,” Megumi says, his arms crossed. When he stands there like that, he looks just like his father.

Yuji turns sharply to look at his friend, as if he’s been betrayed.

Megumi’s slightly smug expression falters. “What? It’s the truth!”

Choso pats Yuji’s head again. “Don’t be mad at Megumi. It sounds like he was giving you good advice. You should listen to him. Now, what were you trying to reach?”

Yuji is such a sweet, bright young man. He doesn’t linger on negative feelings and never pouts. So he’s almost immediately back to normal, pointing to a box of chocolate snack cakes in the top cabinet. Apparently he’d seen Gojo get some out earlier, so he remembered where they were.

Choso’s doll pulls the box down and gets out a small, individually wrapped cake for each of the boys. They take them, thank her, and then they both run back out of the kitchen and toward the empty room they’ve been using to play in.

Once they’re gone, his doll turns to him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have scolded Yuji. It wasn’t my place. I think my big sister instincts just kicked in when I heard him say he was going to climb.”

Choso gives her a warm smile. “No, you were right to say what you did. He can be a bit reckless at times, and it worries me. But I’m too easy on him to say anything. Thank you for catching him.”

She smiles back. “Anytime.”

Later that night, Toji drives both boys home. He’s done this a few times now, so he knows where Yuji lives, and it’s on his way. Choso thanks him when he returns.

“No problem,” Toji replies. “My kid actually talks to me when your brother is around.”

After the other trainer goes to his room, Choso’s doll stands beside him. “Sounds like he and Megumi have a complicated relationship.”

“I suppose they do. I had a complicated relationship with my own father,” he says.

“Same here. I guess that’s pretty common.”

He glances at her, wishing he knew more about her, wishing he knew everything about her. But she’ll be gone in a couple of weeks, and he’ll never see her again. She said she wanted them to be friends, but how would her new owner react to her remaining in contact with her trainer? It would be highly unprofessional on Choso’s part.

Actually, he wishes she could just stay with him.

***********************

Several days later, you walk into the welcome room to find Choso accepting a package from the delivery man, bowing slightly as he thanks the man.

You look at the plain brown box in his hands, your heart beginning to race as you approach him. “Is that it?”

Choso notices you, blushes, but then grins. “It is. Want to open it now?”

“Definitely,” you say, and the two of you return to his room.

In the early days of the training, Choso told you to order whatever you wanted to use in the training sessions and he would pay for it. You’ve ordered a few items but nothing really special. A few days ago you spotted this item, and after asking Choso if it’s something he’d be okay with using, you ordered it immediately. Since then, all you can think about is trying it out.

Choso sits the box on the bed and gestures for you to go ahead and open it. You feel like a kid at Christmas as you tear the box open and remove your prize.

It’s a bright red double-sided strap on. There’s an impressive silicone appendage sticking out from the front, and an equally impressive one sticking out from the inside of the strap, which is supposed to go inside you.

When you first approached Choso about the idea of pegging him, you were a bit nervous. But he told you he enjoyed it under the right circumstances (plenty of lube and a careful partner).

“I think it would be amazing with you,” he told you, his eyes shining with excitement.

So after some prep work, you find yourself standing naked in his room, him on his knees in front of you, eating you out to get you slicked up. When you’re ready, he helps you pull the strap on up and into you. It’s a snug fit, and the thought that the same thing will be going inside Choso makes you clench.

You stand with the bright red dildo hanging over Choso’s face, and he looks up at you expectantly.

“Suck me off,” you tell him, and he begins licking the dildo, his tongue moving over it in such an erotic way, you imagine you can feel it. When he takes it into his mouth and moves his head back and forth, the motion causes the dildo inside you to move, stirring you up. You moan and grab his hair, guiding his head to a rhythm.

It feels so good, and Choso looks so fucking hot on his knees, deep throating the dildo, you’re on the edge of cumming within minutes. But you hold back, and instead gently push him back and then lead him to the bed.

He slips his black pants down his hips and steps out of them, along with his boxers. He’s already hard, a pink dusting on his cheeks as he climbs onto the mattress and gets into position, on his knees, facing the foot of the bed. You climb on behind him, a bottle of lube in your hand.

Looking down at him, you find yourself mesmerized by how tight and smooth his ass is. He’s definitely put some work into getting such a fine, toned body. You rub and squeeze his ass for a moment before drizzling the lube liberally over him and the strap on. You rub it in, taking care to do it thoroughly. The last thing you want to do is hurt him.

You spread his firm cheeks and press one finger into him, testing to be sure he’s nice and slippery. He seems to tense up slightly, and you grin as you give his ass a light, playful slap. “Are you ready?” you ask, removing your finger and watching his cute asshole clench the air.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replies, eyes forward. There’s a bit of a crack in his voice that sends a shiver through you.

Satisfied that you’re both prepared, you line the silicone dick up with Choso’s hole and slowly, carefully, ease it into him. He makes a small gasping sound as it goes further in, but otherwise remains calm and quiet until it’s all the way in.

You experiment with a few shallow thrusts, enjoying the way your end feels inside you and the way Choso’s muscles ripple beneath you. Leaning forward, you put your mouth close to his ear and say, “How does it feel?”

“It feels good, Mistress,” he says, in that shuddering voice you love so much.

Gradually, you begin thrusting deeper and harder, listening to his grunts and moans to determine whether it feels good or hurts. He agreed beforehand to let you know if he felt any discomfort, but you still want to take care with him.

As your thrusts speed up, the dildo on your end moves back and forth, thrusting into you as well. You find yourself moaning along with Choso as you fuck him.

You notice his body is quivering with pleasure, his strong arms trembling as they try to hold him up. His hair is loose, the way you like it, spilling over his face in sweaty strands. You reach around him and gently grip his hard, leaking cock. He moans as you begin stroking him, using the same rhythm as your thrusts. His cock feels lovely in your hand, all hot and slick and throbbing. Your thrusts become faster as chase your own pleasure, the silicone rod inside you making the perfect amount of friction with every move.

“Mistress,” Choso’s strained voice says between groans, “m-may I cum? Please?”

The pulse of his cock is faster now, the appendage twitching in your grip. You stroke him a few moments longer, thrusting deeply into him, before finally moving your hand down to give his balls a squeeze. “Cum for me,” you whisper into his ear, pushing into him as far as possible.

He moans loudly as he cums, shooting his load onto the sheets, his body shaking. Seeing and hearing it is enough to bring you to your own orgasm, and you keep thrusting as the pleasure overtakes you.

You’re left panting, collapsed on top of Choso, the dildo slipping out of him and hanging between your bodies. When you have the strength, you draw back and begin unfastening the strap on. Choso turns around and helps you remove it. The inner dildo, that had been inside you, is sticky and glistening. Before you can reach for it, Choso holds it up to his mouth and begins licking it clean.

Fuck, he’s amazing. How are you supposed to just move on to some other man after being with someone so perfect? No one is ever going to compare to him. Choso not only pleases you sexually, but he’s a kind and responsible man who makes your heart flutter. You’re starting to seriously dread the end of the training. If only you could just… stay here.

*****************

The following evening, Choso is getting ready to take his nightly shower when he notices something amiss. His doll is looking at her phone, and instead of the usual bright smile she wears while texting her sister, her face is becoming increasingly distraught.

She looks up at him, the phone now trembling in her hand. “I have to go home, right now,” she says, her voice shaky. “My sister is in trouble.”

Choso feels a spike of alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes are full of anger and fear as she says, “Yosaku broke into our house. He said if he can’t have her, no one can! She’s hiding in the bathroom!”

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