#can someone please lock me in a belt and idk maybe mock me when i start to beg

[illfoandillfie]

You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this! 

Taglist: @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

 “Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.” “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven’t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

 You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

 Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

 It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

 You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” “So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

 “Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

 He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance.  Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

 Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.�� Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, “Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

 At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

 You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

 “How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

 He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

 On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don’t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

 Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly.   “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

 The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he’d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

 You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

 You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That’s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

 You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #absolutely wild that any of you have been with me since IMIUTY tbh #i was so unsure about posting that sldjslkds #and now i just casually chuck out 9k words of filth #also #a lot of chastity stuff is about wearing them constantly #which is hot but not realistic #because if you dont clean them and give your body time to breathe #it can lead to UTIs and stuff #so if your gonna play with a belt and you have a p**** #make sure to take it off intermittently #anyway #can someone please lock me in a belt and idk maybe mock me when i start to beg

[notapaladin]

save you from that sunday sermon

If you’re reading this, you’ve almost survived 2020! Have some extremely gratuitous priest/religion kink to celebrate. This may or may not be specifically for @votgs; IDK if you’ve yet read the canon this is based on but I hope you like it anyway!

also on AO3, like all my works

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“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

The inside of the confessional booth was dry and smelled of incense. Outside, it promised to be another scorching hot day, but away from the sun all was dark and cool. Soothing, Acatl had always thought.

It was less soothing now.

It wasn’t the first time Teomitl had come to confession, but they were always small things—losing his temper, judging too quickly. He swore he was working on his flaws, and Acatl believed him. They’d known each other since Acatl’s transferal to this large parish, when Teomitl had bounded up to him after Mass with a smile that had struck him to the core. It was a smile he’d soon grown dangerously used to seeing every Sunday, a few rows back from the front. But outside of Mass and confession they never really spoke, and this was the first time Teomitl had ever sat on this side of the screen, in his neatly-pressed suit and shiny shoes and met his eyes.

He swallowed. It didn’t help his dry throat. Christ, but he wished he’d brought a bottle of water in with him. “Go on.”

Teomitl’s eyes were very dark as he crossed himself. “Father, Son, Holy Spirit.” The quick, sure movement of his hand imprinted itself on the back of Acatl’s eyelids when he blinked. “It has been…” And here he paused, frowning. “One week since my last confession?”

“Two.” He’d noticed Teomitl’s absence like a lost tooth. Even mentioning it made his face heat up, and he was glad for the darkness of the booth. It is not a sin to have a routine, he told himself. It’s not a sin to form a friendly attachment. He’s a parishioner, nothing more. Besides, he’ll be off to college in a few months, and I won’t see him again.

But Teomitl was slightly flushed, eyes widening, and he felt himself blush faintly in response. “You noticed?”

Acatl couldn’t look away from his face. “I did. God will forgive whatever sins you’ve committed since then, you know that. You never need to hide from Him.”

Now Teomitl was definitely blushing. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, and Acatl recognized it for the nervous, stalling-for-time gesture it was. “Even if…”

He was silent. In his years as a priest, he’d heard a great deal of sins, many of them sexual, and few truly capable of shocking him. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Teomitl doing anything horrible. Embarrassing, maybe. But a true, mortal sin? No. Not him. He would never. He’s a fine, upstanding young man—better even than I was in the seminary, though of course he’s far more worldly. Indeed, though he always took them out for church Acatl could make out the tiny holes where piercings decorated his earlobes the rest of the week. It was more than a little distracting.

Finally, Teomitl met his eyes again and spoke. “There’s...someone I want very badly, Father.”

Christ on the cross. Not high school relationship drama. “And?”

“Someone—unsuitable.” Teomitl caught his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, gaze drifting to the floor. “My family would never approve.”

He could think of a lot of women who could be unsuitable for the youngest son of an obscenely wealthy family. “Is she too old for you? Too poor? Seeing someone else?” He thought for a moment. “A teacher?” God knows I remember what my last year of high school was like. I think my entire class thought they were in love with the science teacher. Thank goodness all that’s well behind me now.

Teomitl shook his head. After a moment, he took a deep breath. “A man.”

Acatl felt his world gently tilt and resettle itself on this new angle. He knew he should say something—something reassuring, something comforting—but all he could do was blink at nothing. A man, Teomitl had said. Nothing like the awkward mumblings he’d heard before, of Oh, there’s a boy from school…

Eventually, he found his voice, and the words tore themselves from his heart. “Teomitl. God has made you to love whom you love, and He loves you no matter who that is. And love can never be a sin.” I don’t care what your family might have made you think. I’d have words with them, if I thought it would do any good.

Teomitl’s smile lit up the booth. “Mm. I hoped you’d say that.”

He couldn’t help smiling in return. It was infectious, even as it woke a little voice in him that hissed he was going too far, getting too attached. “Tell me about him?”

And now he had the pleasure of watching Teomitl bite his lip, shyly pleased. “Ah. He’s...older than me, and single. Very handsome. Very kind. Patient. I look at him sometimes and think, God, I’m glad he’s not a teacher, I’d die if I had to put up with my idiot classmates being into him. But I still get to see him—and talk to him—so that’s enough.”

“He sounds like a prize.” Acatl was not going to be jealous. He was not. It wasn’t his place. “Are you...going to tell him?”

“Do you think I should?”

It wasn’t a hesitant question. Acatl was sure, looking at Teomitl’s face, that he’d already made up his mind. Still...to be asked for his opinion warmed his heart. “I think that the worst that could happen is that he would turn you down gently, and then you would know how he felt.” And then his brain shut off and his traitorous mouth kept moving, because apparently he had more to say. “But...I cannot see how he’d say no, Teomitl. I can’t see how anyone could say no to you.”

“...Oh.”

Teomitl was silent for a long, long moment. And then he reached across the space separating them, and put a hand on Acatl’s knee.

Acatl promptly forgot how to breathe. The touch electrified him, warm skin searing through the thin fabric of his cassock and the dress slacks he wore underneath it, and even the crimson shame coursing through his veins was erased. Shame required him to think, and he wasn’t capable of that with Teomitl touching him.

“Teomitl.” It came out as a croak.

Teomitl rubbed his thumb in a gentle little circle over the inside of his knee, which didn’t help at all. And then they locked eyes, and the smile that had been flickering around the edges of his face turned slow and hungry. “Father Acatl.”

He became gradually aware that he was gaping like a fish. It took three tries for him to find his voice, and even then he stuttered. “I—you---!”

Teomitl’s eyes gleamed. “I told you. I want you very badly.”

“Ngk.” He’s an incubus in human shape. That’s the only explanation. “I can’t…”

Nails scratched lightly at his thigh, and he made a strangled noise. Teomitl was looking at him through lowered lashes now, pinning him in place with the heat of his gaze. “You just told me you can’t see anyone rejecting me. Are you really not including yourself?”

“I—I am a priest.” It wasn’t an answer.

And Teomitl knew it, because his fingers started to trail lightly up the inside of Acatl’s thigh. “And so?”

“I took vows.” He should pull away. He knew he should pull away. But he couldn’t move, and the blood racing through his veins was pulsing through his cock even from such a simple touch. I’ve never—Christ, I’ve never— He’d never been this close before. He’d never been this tempted before. Outside the confessional, he knew the church was deserted. Nobody would hear if he cried out, and the statues of the saints were only plaster and paint.

“Ah.” Teomitl’s smile turned mocking. “Those. Do they really matter to you right now?”

He drew a slow breath. “They should. I’ve kept them this long.”

“Father.” Now Teomitl was licking his lips, slow and pointed, and he couldn’t look away from how dark they were. It would be so easy—so, so easy—to capture them with his own. “Have you never even thought about…” He trailed off, letting his fingertips continue their slow slide up Acatl’s inseam, and there was no way Acatl could hide his arousal.

He had to close his eyes. He couldn’t lie to Teomitl’s face. “No. Never.”

“A righteous man.”

And gods, his voice was a purr. It made Acatl think of of smashing his vows like glass on the floor, and for a moment all he could do was breathe. “A man of the cloth.” His own voice shook.

Long, strong fingers came to rest at the base of his throat, gently tugging his collar aside. Frozen, feeling his heartbeat in every inch of his own skin, he let it happen. “Too much cloth, I think.”

When he swallowed, Teomitl’s fingers brushed against his bare skin. “You—you’re mocking me.”

Teomitl lowered his voice. There was no more humor in it, nothing but a deadly seriousness. “I do not mock, Father. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes. Teomitl was leaning forward, legs spread and eyes burning. Acatl’s gaze fell unbidden to the bulge in his slacks, and it made his mouth water. His slack fingers twitched at the arms of his chair; for the space of a heartbeat, he was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to touch. To palm all that hardness, to undo belt and zipper and—

He’d never heard his own voice so rough. “I’m looking.”

“It’s all for you.” Teomitl was smiling again, crooked and almost teasing, but the hand that was sliding up Acatl’s thigh was now brushing warm knuckles against his erection and he had to bite back a whine. “If you want to take it.”

He took one deep breath, and another. He was suddenly, acutely aware of all the layers separating their skin, of their suits and his cassock which now definitely had too many buttons—no, he could hike it up, it would be fine. “I—“ There were no words. He had no words here, and no defense in the eyes of God.

Forgive me, O Lord, for what I am about to do.

He stood up, grabbed Teomitl, and pulled him into a hard kiss. It was messy and awkward—he’d only ever kissed anyone once, and that had been at his senior prom just to see what it was like—but Teomitl knew what he was doing; he tilted his head, buried his hands in Acatl’s hair, and made it hungry. Filthy. He heard a growl and realized it was coming from his own throat as their bodies pressed together, molding Teomitl’s lean, solid muscle against his own frame. Too many clothes. We’re wearing—too many fucking clothes—

Teomitl clearly had the same idea. His hands left Acatl’s hair to scramble over his cassock instead, popping buttons and fumbling with his collar until clearly giving it up as a lost cause. “Christ—how many layers—“

Acatl thought he should probably pull away so at least Teomitl could see what he was doing, but it seemed far more important to undo his shirt buttons and bare the base of his throat so he could lower his head and find out what sort of noises the boy made when he put his mouth there. He licked over the pulse in his jugular and was rewarded with a breathless gasp that made him rock forward on instinct, grinding roughly against Teomitl’s hard cock. “Leave it. You say you want me?”

Teomitl let out a frustrated little snarl and grabbed his hips, fingers digging in almost hard enough to hurt. “Fuck. Yes. Jesus, yes—want you to fuck me right here—“

Even the thought of it made him groan, but then the words sank in and his breath stuttered. “I’ve never—I don’t—“ Never thought I’d do this, didn’t plan for this, don’t know how—

“I do.” And Teomitl’s grin was wild and bright as he pressed him against the confessional bench; when the backs of his knees hit the edge they bent automatically, and then his cassock was hiked up around his waist and Teomitl was staring down at him with a predatory light in his eye. His shirt was half undone and there was a red mark on his throat, and he looked obscene.

He looked divine.

“Jesus Christ.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until Teomitl’s mouth curved into a slow grin. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond; Teomitl was undoing his belt and stepping neatly out of his trousers and underwear, and his mouth went dry at the sight. He was magnificent. This was worth taking the Lord’s name in vain for. This was worth anything. “Teo—“ He was cut off by Teomitl moving to straddle his thighs, as easily as though he’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe he had; Acatl wouldn’t be surprised.

The hands that freed his erection and gave it a slow, wickedly light caress certainly knew what they were doing, and he had to grit his teeth against an embarrassingly needy hiss. Teomitl’s hot, solid weight pinned him to the bench, leaving him just enough room to rock into that touch; seeking something to anchor him to earth, he dug his nails into Teomitl’s thighs. That got an immediate response—Teomitl’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a hard breath before rasping out, “I’d rather you take me.”

His cock jumped a little at the mere thought, and for a moment he had to squeeze his eyes shut. God, he really wants me—he could have anyone he wanted, anyone at all, and he picked me— “Fuck. Christ. Okay.” Not eloquent, but he was past that now.

There was lube. Thank God there was lube. Thank God that Teomitl had come prepared, was arching his back like something out of the filthiest late-night porn videos he’d ever watched—but better, so much better, because this was real. He slid one slick finger into that heat, careful, and was rewarded with a hitched breath; encouraged, he pressed a kiss to Teomitl’s collarbone and got an actual gasp in response.

He likes that. Good. He mouthed harder at that same spot, the back of his mind spinning into overdrive as he tried to remember what he’d read about how to make it good; Teomitl deserved the best. A bit more lube, a different angle, and suddenly Teomitl’s panting kicked up into a sharp little cry. He trembled at the sound and did it again.

There wasn’t any way Acatl could get deeper, but from the way Teomitl ground his hips he seemed determined to try. “Oh—oh, you liar,” he breathed delightedly, spreading his legs wider for better access. This time when he wriggled it pressed their cocks together, and Acatl had to take a slow breath to keep himself under control.

“I confess in the sight of the Lord my God that I have sinned,” he murmured against Teomitl’s throat, and nipped sharply at the skin to punctuate his words. Then he added another finger, reveling in the incoherent whine that stuttered out. It was tight—tighter than he thought it would be, and for a moment he worried it would hurt—but then Teomitl arched and rolled his hips forward and that seemed to do something, because he had a bit more room to move.

He had to move, had to keep stretching Teomitl open, because to do otherwise would have been to deprive himself of the boy’s reactions. He was done with depriving himself. Each broken gasp and high-pitched keen was music to his ears, a feast for a starving man, and as he left marks all over the long column of Teomitl’s throat he could feel their vibrations against his mouth. Teomitl’s voice nearly cracked when he tried to actually speak. “Ah—hah, Father, please—“

“Hmm?” He’d never felt like this before—stretched taut with power, with anticipation. Dangerous. A blisteringly hot thought lanced through him—Christ, I could keep you strung out like this for hours—and his cock twitched with the intensity of it. He curled his fingers inside him purely to feel the way his walls clenched and rippled, and Teomitl broke.

“Fuck me, damn you!”

He sent up a brief, heartfelt prayer for stamina. He knew he was going to need it. “God—yes—“

And then he was pulling his fingers out, and guiding himself in, and the sheer slick heat bearing down around him made his eyes roll back in his head. Teomitl lowered himself down; he was doing most of the work and Acatl thanked God for that, because it was all he could do to keep himself steady. By the time he was sheathed to the hilt they were both trembling, and he had to drop his head to Teomitl’s shoulder and take a few deep breaths before he could even think coherently. “Oh, my Lord…”

Teomitl hissed through his teeth, rocking impatiently. “Praying at a time like this?”

His body seemed to know what to do better than he did; it was almost second nature to settle his hands at Teomitl’s waist, to brace his feet on the floor and grind his hips up. Teomitl dug his nails into his shoulders, and even through his clothes it made him jolt. “You.” Teomitl did something with his thighs, and for a moment he couldn’t speak at all. “You should try it. Don’t—nngh, recall you actually confessing a sin.”

He could think of a few Teomitl had committed since his arrival; looking at him the way he was now, for instance, was definitely Pride inspiring the sin of Lust. Worse, judging by the way he smirked he was entirely unrepentant. In response to Acatl’s words, he raised his hips up and then sank back down, a smooth motion that pulled a groan out of him. It would be easy, he thought, to let Teomitl do all the work—but he didn’t feel like taking it easy, and Teomitl had been making the sweetest sounds earlier.

It still took a few tries to establish any kind of rhythm; he got nearly a quarter of the way through a mental Our Father before Teomitl shifted his hips at just the right angle, and he bucked his hips up in response, and Teomitl made a desperate noise and clenched down around him so hard he raked his nails down Teomitl’s back and snarled something profane into his ear. “Like that?”

Teomitl nodded frantically and did it again, setting up a steady rise-and-fall; all Acatl could do in response was meet it as best he could. But like this—now that they’d figured out how they were proceeding, now that he knew what to do—he could claw back some of his focus. It was easier to kiss Teomitl like this, rough and messy, and when he bit at his throat Teomitl gasped.

And then he started to speak. “Bless me—Lord—“ Teomitl’s voice went high, reedy, and he keened as Acatl rolled his hips upwards. “For I have—“ He broke off, shuddering, as Acatl thrust wildly up into him again; it did something, hearing the words of a sacrament on his lips at a time like this, and he wasn’t going to question or examine it when it made fire race through his veins.

“Keep going.” He barely recognized his own voice so rough with desire. “I want to—Christ, I want to hear you.” Want the entire chapel to hear you. Want God in his heaven to hear you. Want to make you scream.

Teomitl’s breath hitched, fingers scrabbling down Acatl’s spine; it must have been doing something for him too, because he was riding him even harder. And he kept talking, words broken by near-sobs of pleasure each time Acatl slid deep. “For I have—ah—most wickedly and with full knowledge of the—oh fuck—consequences—ah!”

He raised himself up and Acatl let him, breathing hard. He’d grabbed fistfuls of the back of Teomitl’s shirt; it was possibly the only thing enabling him to keep his focus. “What.”

“Tempted a priest to sin.” Teomitl’s smirk could have tempted a saint. It could have tempted an angel of the Lord. Mary would have thrown away her blessed virginity for that smirk.

Acatl grabbed his hips and pulled him back down. I’ll show you sin, he thought, and after that it blurred a bit. He was aware only of Teomitl’s nails raking over his back, the creak of the bench under them as they moved together, the slick impossible heat of being inside him. Each thrust was another bolt of lightning up his spine, another tight coil of pleasure in his gut, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Just a little longer—please, God, I want to feel him—

Teomitl broke hard, suddenly, and all at once. His back arched, hips snapping, and then he was squeezing down around Acatl’s cock and spilling himself all over both their stomachs with a raw gasp of “Christ,” and there was absolutely no chance of Acatl lasting any longer after that. His own release hit him like an oncoming storm, and for what felt like an eternity his mind was entirely blank with the shock of it.

By the time he could think again, Teomitl had let go of the back of his cassock in favor of wrapping strong, solid arms around him, resting his head against his. It was soothing. Grounding. He needed it; he still felt faintly electrified. Christ. Jesus. “...Virgin Mary, Mother of God.” It came out in a long, mumbling rush, and it was nowhere near enough to express whatever was going through his head. He didn’t even know what was going through his head. He was still buried inside Teomitl, and he didn’t want to leave.

Teomitl took a long breath and let it out in a sigh. “God. Yeah. That was…”

“...Amazing.” There probably wasn’t enough penance in the world for this, but that was a problem for future him. In the meantime, he slid his hands slowly over Teomitl’s bare thighs and nestled his forehead into the curve of his shoulder, feeling their heartbeats slow down to normal.

“...I think I ruined your robe. Coat. Thing.”

He sucked in a lungful of too-warm air and forced down the tide of guilt that wanted to choke him. No. God, I love You, but You are not allowed to ruin this moment. “Cassock. It can be washed.”

Teomitl shifted. It was getting uncomfortable to be so joined together; still, when he lifted himself off of Acatl’s cock, he shuddered at the overstimulation of it. “Nnh...oh, fuck, we made a mess.”

They had. He tried not to think about the actual state of his trousers as he reached for the box of tissues he kept by the bench in case of crying parishioners. Postcoital cleanup was one of those things no amount of independent research had prepared him for, but as awkward as it was, at least it meant he didn’t have to talk. Now that the endorphins were fading, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He was far too aware of Teomitl slipping back into his own pants, of the flex of muscle and the rustle of fabric so close to him.

Finally, Teomitl did up his belt and broke the silence between them. “So. Same time next week?”

He nearly choked on his own spit, feeling his face catch fire. “I…”

Worse, Teomitl was smirking again. He could hear it in his voice, that wicked curl that sent heat through his veins all over again. “I’m sure I’ll have a lot to confess.”

Before he could think better of it he drew himself up to better meet Teomitl’s eyes, desire shifting to the first stirrings of irritation. You may tease me, but do not mock me. “We haven’t discussed your penance for this one.”

“Oh?” The question came with a curious tilt of his head, but the gleam in his eyes was far from innocent.

“As you said, you tempted a priest to sin—to break the vows I made before God.” He could hardly believe his own daring. Even after what they’d just done, it seemed like too much of a transgression. He was being too greedy, asking too much. But somehow, it felt right. After breaking one vow, what worth are the rest? When he spoke, his voice didn’t shake at all. “Give me your number. Next time you have these...urges…” He swallowed. “Call me?”

Teomitl’s smile was his answer.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #not work safe #paladin writes stuff

[minstrivia]

can i request a bad boy jungkook scenario? like they’re in college but everyone knows him as some bad boy idk how to request this fjdjchd

i love bad boy’s, it’s actually so heartbreaking. so expect maybe a series or a little pt.2, idk. i hope you like this. xxx

pt.2 here >

in which he’s trouble…

He’s here again— Jeon Jungkook himself. The malignant callous delinquent that everyone knows to avoid. 

The rules are simple with him and everyone knows them, don’t dare approach him or talk to him, unless he does so first. And most importantly do not piss him off, getting on his wrong side is never a thing you want to do. It’s the way it’s always been.

And despite the fact he ditches his lessons more often than most, he’s here at the car park today. There’s a cigarette locked between his crimson lips, the sooty wispy smoke dancing around his athletic figure as he leans up against his motorbike, scrutinising everyone with a guarded glare.

He’s dressed in his legendary attire of black ripped jeans, white tee and a leather jacket. His friends around him are talking and laughing about things but his expression is completely stoic and unmoving. He looks like sin— beautiful, dangerous sin.

And Y/N knows he’s trouble, she knows the bad boy act isn’t at all a facade. He’s done things. He’s even told her that he’s done a lot of wicked things that would normally make people run in fear. But she’s not because she believes that he won’t do anything to her.

“Y/N, you know he’s going to break your heart right?” Lindsey says, looking at Y/N like she can’t begin to fathom how she could fall in love with someone like that. “Boys like him aren’t looking for serious things, you’re just a fling to him and when he’s done he’ll chuck you away like the rest of the girls.”

Y/N shrugs shoving her books into her bag. She’s so far gone with him that she wouldn’t even mind if he did that to her, she loves him that much, that she’ll probably spend her time hoping he’ll come back to her. And when she’s with him, she never thinks about the future, she can’t afford to. Jungkook’s that here and now type of person. He does things at the moment then thinks about it later.

“Come on Linds look at him, how can I say no to do that?”

“It’s simple, you open your mouth,” Lindsey says slackening her jaw in a demonstration. “And say no.”

Y/N gives her a flat look. They both know that Jungkook’s that type of good-looking you can’t call anything less than beautiful.

“Okay, Fine. But—” Lindsey places a sympathetic hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Seeing you like this is upsetting honestly.”

“He’s nice to me—” Y/N argues, shifting her weight between her feet. “—and he’s not all that bad when you get to know him.”

It’s a weak argument, Y/N knows it. But no one ever understands anyway. Lindsey scoffs.

“Y/N, don’t be fucking stupid. I hear the way he talks to you sometimes.” There’s a worried sigh in her voice like she knows Y/N won’t listen to a word she says, but she’s going to say it anyway. “People don’t get to know him for reasons. One being… he’s a complete jerk and complete casanova. Second being, he’s not just not safe and because of that you aren’t either.”

Y/N glances to her feet. She hates when people talk about Jungkook like that and she hates it, even more, when they tell her she’s wasting her time. They don’t know him, they don’t know him like she does and they never will. So they have no right and that extends to her best friend.

“Look—” Y/N can feel Jungkook’s hard gaze on her now and she knows that’s her signal. She smiles brightly at Lindsey besides what she really wants to say. “I gotta go so… bye Linds.”

“Yeah— yeah bye, hopefully, I’ll see you at Jacob’s party on Saturday—” She signals over to Jungkook. “—that’s if he decides not to be a possessive jerk.”

Y/N laughs. But she won’t ever admit to Lindsey that she likes it when he gets like that. Y/N knows Jungkook’s never been an emotive person. In fact most of the time, she’s not even sure if he actually likes her by how apathetic and sarcastic he is to her. And he’ll never please her with words that she wants to hear like ‘You mean a lot to me’ or even ‘I love you’. So it’s the little things— like him telling her she’s his and only his— that counts.

Jungkook watches as Y/N saunters over to him, she’s wearing the denim dress he’d bought for her. And she looks so pure and innocent in it, just like he hoped she would. Small tight straps hold it together and bring out the velvety skin of her collarbones, a russet belt cinching it nicely at her waist and stopping just before her mid-thighs. She looks every bit angelic and every bit his.

He doesn’t deserve her in the slightest, he knows that. Everything about her is good, the way she talks, the way she walks, the way she dresses, everything about her is prim and proper— expect from him.

“Hey, Kookie,” Y/N greets, a coy smile on her face as she looks up at him through fluttering lashes.

He grunts, flicking his chin up and twirling his fingers in the air. “Turn around.”

“What?”

Jungkook cocks a brow up, capturing her small hand in his and twirling her around. He’s scrutinising the marks he’s left on her body, the magenta bruises littering the surface of her neck and thighs. And she’s not hiding them, he’d made sure she kept them in plain sight for everyone to see.

“You look real pretty sweetheart.”

Y/N tucks her hair behind her ear, a blush heating her cheeks. “Thanks. I wore it for you.”

He smirks sitting back on his bike, beckoning her over to stand between his thighs and she doesn’t hesitate. His large hands splayed at her small waist tugging her closer and now they’re level height, face to face. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m alright—” She answers. “—a little sore… but alright.”

He hums lips brushing over her neck. “Fucked you well last night, didn’t I? Made you come five times.”

She nods, teeth biting at her lip. “That’s one more time than last time.”

“Think you can do six?”

She shakes her head. Y/N knows she probably can’t do six. The five he forced out of her yesterday had drained her physically and mentally. She’d been sobbing and trembling underneath him the whole time but Jungkook’s mad for it. She’s so naturally submissive, wanting to please his every sadistic desire. And he loves ruining her, tearing down her every virtue so no-one else can have her.

He tuts, hands running down her sides. “I think you can.”

She grins at him, finger clasped between her teeth. “Well, if you want we can test it today.”

“Fuck sweetheart, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” She leans closer to him lips ghosting his ears. “And, I’m not wearing anything under this,” She whispers, pulling back to watch his face. And his reaction is everything she’d hoped for. Jaw clenching and eyes dark with hunger.

God. It’s time’s like this when Jungkook’s sure under all that good that surrounds her there’s a little vixen waiting to play and only he has the pleasure to see it.

“Fuck—” His fingers hook around the metal ring zip at the top of her dress. “—so if I just—”

“Uh huh.”

“Christ,” He cups her cheek roughly in his hands, jerking her face towards his. He pauses when their lips are just barely touching and they’re breathing in each other’s air.

Y/N loves kissing Jungkook. His kisses are always bruising, soft lips making her run dizzy with desire. And he fucks her with his tongue, constantly showing the dominance he has over her. She loves it though, kissing him feels so right and she never wants to stop. Jungkook bites at her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as he smiles.

“Fuck baby, how d'you make me feel like this?” He rests his forehead against hers, panting deeply, kissing her always makes him feel breathless. “What was your friend talking about?”

She frowns. “Lindsey?”

“D'you have any other friends I don’t know about?”

She shakes her head, arms wrapping around his neck. “No…we were— we were just talking about Jacobs party on Saturday.”

Jungkook knows exactly how Jacobs parties go, he’s been to too many to count. And he knows for sure he doesn’t want Y/N there.

“You wanna go?” He asks, studying her calmly. She’s avoiding eye contact as she speaks, flitting her eyes everywhere but at him.

“Of course not.”

He��s holding her waist with a vice grip, directly above where he’d been tightly clutching her when he’d fucked her last night and she winces at the steady burn. “Sweetheart if you want to go, you can tell me.”

He’s testing her. Y/N knows for sure he’s testing her and even with however long she plays his calculated games. She’s still never sure if she’s going to say the answer he wants to hear.

“I just thought that—” She rolls her lips together as her fingers brush over his nape. “I thought that it’d be nice you know… to go together.”

“Together?”

“Erm…yeah.”

“And what would we do? Dance? Drink?” Jungkook’s mocking her now, his voice is low and taunting as he speaks. “Smoke a joint?”

Y/N sighs raking her nails through his hair. “No it was— it was a stupid idea. We can do something else instead.”

“How 'bout you stay over this weekend, and I’ll treat you,” He murmurs, biting his teeth into her collarbone. “I’ll make you forget all about the party.”

She giggles. She’ll always say yes to Jungkook, as long as she gets to be around him she’s fine.

“Alright then.”

#blurb #blurbs #bts blurbs #jungkook blurbs #jungkook blurb #request #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #bad boy #bad boy jungkook #bts smut #smut #possessive #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan

[thorne93]

Inexplicable Fate (Part 5)

Prompt: When a blinding pain overtakes you at work, what will be in store for your life when you run into the Winchesters and learn Lucifer’s son is about to be born?

Warning: Language, pain, angst, violence, fighting (verbal and physical)…fear of insanity??

Word Count: 2366

Notes: This is for @roxyspearing gif challenge. This is like a slow burn?? Idk. It’s a Jack x Reader fic (so Season 12 and 13 spoilers…) It’s LONG. So buckle in. It is slow-ish at first. But things will build to a head…Promise ;P

Beta’d by the ever fabulous @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno@rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername@kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

IF Tags: @iamafishandigosplish @myfamilysincarolina @ilovemyangelforever @kazuha159 @bisexualdolphinthings @mysteriouslydeliciouswerewolf @justiceiswater @millard-our-savior

Dean Winchester: @akshi8278 @mogaruke

Sam Winchester: @mogaruke @lenawiinchester

Castiel: @lenawiinchester

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So is this really uncomfortable or how does this work?” you asked as you sat on your bed and nervously rubbed your hands on your pants.

“It’s extremely painful. I basically insert my hand into your chest and--”

Your stomach lurched as you held your hand up. “Okay, no, that’s okay, I don’t need the details. Let’s just do this.”

Castiel nodded and took his place in front of you.

“And this will...tell you why I can hear what you can?” you asked, nervous.

“It will let me know if you have angelic grace in you, or if you’re mental state is impaired, or if something has happened to your soul,” he explained.

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should ask anything else, ready to just get this over with.

“Do you have a belt or something you can bite down on?” Castiel asked as he looked around and you nodded, pointing to a chair at a little desk in your room, a handful of belts draped over the back of it. He grabbed it and came back, folding it and putting it in your mouth, the action making you scared. This pain must be beyond your comprehension if you needed something to bit down on.

“Now try to relax and if you have some place you really enjoy, try to go there mentally, because this will be incredibly unpleasant.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find a happy place to go, and then you nodded. Castiel took one last look in your eyes before he slowly slid his hand forward, and when his fingertips reached your chest, they didn’t stop at the flesh, they slid right through as if your skin, bone, and muscle weren’t even there.

The sensation was like one you’d never felt.

It felt exactly as you expected, but much, much worse. It felt as if he’d punched into your chest with a white hot iron, the heat searing your insides as they twisted. You tried to bite down, to keep from screaming but it was futile. Your mouth fell open, a visceral scream echoing from your mouth, the noise so loud it hurt your own ears.

Thrashing, your hand shot towards his arm, wanting to rip it away from you but his other arm caught your wrist, preventing you from moving further with your desire. His grip was like a statue’s, immovable and hard, he had strength like you’d never seen.

But the pain was still in your chest, making you scream, thrash, and now cry. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he let you go and your body went limp before he caught you to keep you from toppling to your floor. He gently eased you back on the bed.

“Sorry about that,” he tried.

“It’s okay,” you assured with a ragged breath. “Did you see anything?”

“Yes, I did. I saw angelic grace,” he informed, frowning.

“What does that mean?” you wondered.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. Only angels and nephilims have graces,” he said, still frowning. “You’re not an angel, and we would’ve felt when you were born, and thus, killed you.”

“What?!?” you exclaimed.

“Yes, I thought Dean and Sam had explained that to you?”

“Explained what?”

“When a nephilim is born, a child of an angel and a human, the power is so great, nothing can defeat it, so the angels have sworn for years to terminate them before they can cause any destruction.”

“That’s….awful,” you responded.

“It’s to ensure the human race and others stay in existence. It isn’t a moral matter, Y/N.”

“Maybe not to you, but I’m human, life, children, babies...Shouldn’t be killed.”

“I don’t imagine you to understand, but the fact remains, you’re somehow angelic, that explains why you can hear what we can,” he stated.

“But we don’t know why I have angel grace in me,” you confirmed.

“Right.”

A knock came at your door.

“Come in,” you called.

Sam opened the door and poked his head in. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt, but someone’s at your door and I didn’t want to answer, since it’s your house and all.”

“Oh, thanks.” You jumped up and stepped past Castiel and followed Sam out to your living room entry area, going to the door to open it and see a dark haired woman in a leather jacket and jeans. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I seemed to have broken down and I wondered if I could use your phone?” she said sweetly and a red flag went off in your head.

What are the odds of meeting the Winchesters and an angel, and now a random woman “breaks down” in the middle of nowhere, and comes to your house. It’s too random to be random. Something felt off about it.

“I’m sorry but… could you go nextdoor? Now isn’t a good time,” you said as you started to close the door, but her hand flashed to the door and she held it where it was.

“I really need your help,” she said in a darker tone as she pushed the door back, making you stumble. Sam and Dean ran to your side but the woman waved her and and the two of them went flying, hitting your walls and making a huge hole before falling to the ground.

Panic started to rise in your chest as you backed away from her. You wanted to run to them, to comfort them, to make sure they were okay but you were frightened, frozen. You weren’t sure what running to them would help either.

Castiel emerged from your bedroom. “What are you doing here?” he asked, seeming to brace himself for a fight.

“We just want the girl, let us take her, Castiel,” she said as her eyes slid to the angel on your right.

“You can’t take her,” Castiel responded, stepping in front of you, a blade dropping out and into his hand, and she did the same.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Castiel.”

“You’re not leaving me a choice,” he responded, a touch of sorrow in his voice as he went to lunge at her but she kicked him, hard, and with another wave, he was sent soaring across the room as well.

“Not as strong as you once were,” she mocked towards him before her eyes set on you. You turned to run but she ran towards you, her speed far surpassing yours as she grabbed you around the waist. You began kicking and screaming, thrashing, just trying to get away from her.

“Don’t struggle. I wasn’t going to hurt you, but if you force my hand,” she swore as she started pulling you out of the house.

“No!” you screamed as you tried again with all your might to get away from her. “Nooo!” you screamed again,and this time, you felt something leave your body. A presence, almost. It felt as if your own skin had left you and ballooned out around you like a cloud, or a shield.

Suddenly, you felt the woman let you go, and you turned around to find her unconscious. Once you were free, you bolted back inside your house, slammed the door and lock it as the three men approached you.

“Hey, hey, you kay? What happened?” Sam asked as he walked up and you hugged him, shaking violently and crying.

“I don’t know,” you sobbed. “I just...I was scared and there was this light, and she let go of me,” you stated, letting the story trail off. “What’s happening to me?” you asked as tears streamed down your face.

“We don’t know, kid,” Dean said.

“Dean, did you not just see that? She laid out an angel,” Sam noted, his head above yours, his chest vibrating against you as he spoke, him holding you and you holding him.

“She shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Cas noted, an almost scared tone to his voice as he eyed you.

“Ya think?” Dean quipped. “How the hell did you do that?” he demanded, frowning, almost glaring at you as he crossed his arms.

You stepped away from Sam, wiping your face with your sleeve. “I don’t know. I have no idea. I just...I was scared, that’s all. I wanted to be let go, I wanted her to let me go, and the next thing I know, she’s laid out on the ground.”

The three of them stared at you incredulously.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but she isn’t safe here,” Cas stated. “You aren’t safe here. I think the angels followed me. They know we’re here...For whatever reason, they want you.”

“And that's bad?” you questioned. Clearly it was, seeing as they tried to kidnap you, but they needed you alive or they would’ve killed you just now. And how did you knock her out?

“Any time those winged dicks wants something, it’s never good,” Dean remarked, looking around as if someone was watching or listening.

“Cas is right, Dean, She’s not safe here any more. We need to take her with us.”

“Take her with us where?” Dean asked and half a second later, he caught Sams’ expression. “Back home? To the Bunker? No. Hell no. We can’t take her.”

“Dean, what choice do we have?”

“Sam’s right,” Castiel piped up. “If the angels want her, there’s got to be a reason, and we need to figure out why. If she’s important to them, she could be important to us.”

“Has anyone forgotten that we’re trying to find Baby Satan and Mommy right now?” Dean questioned desperately, anger behind his words. “We just got out of prison yesterday. We’re still dealing with Mom and the British dicks of Letters. We can’t take Looney Tunes here with us back home, we don’t have time for it and I don’t have to time to babysit.”

“Dean!” Sam almost shouted, chastising his brother.

You took offense at his words, but he was right. They didn’t owe you anything.

“No, no, he’s right. You three have been really helpful but...you don’t have to take care of me. You don’t know me.”

“No, Y/N, you’re in danger, with angels and possibly demons, we can’t just leave you here to fend for yourself,” Sam retorted.

“That’s really sweet but I...I’ll be okay,” you assured, having no real idea how you would be okay. Sure, you laid that angel out, but you had no idea how you did it or if you could do it again. It was possibly a fluke thing, and what if more than one came the next time.

The next time...you could already tell they wouldn’t stop at one try. From what they’d told you of angels, they were persistent and deadly. This time probably wouldn’t be any different.

“No, you won’t. We don’t know what the angels want with you or why they’re after you or how you could do what you just did but you shouldn't be alone,” Sam tried and you went to say something before Dean turned his brother.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, his anger not hidden at all by his tone.

The two of them walked into the guest room and shut the door, leaving just you and Cas.

“You really don’t know how you caused Kazeel to pass out?” he questioned and you shrugged slightly.

“No. I just...wanted to be back inside with you three, I was terrified of her taking me, and...this feeling left my body.” Castiel gave a slight, small nod before you said, “Could you...I mean...Can you do that? Can you knock people out?”

“I can put people to sleep with one touch, is that what you mean?”

“I guess...I was more wondering--”

“If you have the power of an angel,” he finished.

Biting your lip, hugging yourself, you meekly nodded.

He sighed. “I do not know. I could work with you and see, but as it stands right now, i know very little about you.”

“Right...Yeah, no, I get that,” you solemnly said. Part of you knew all of this was crazy, beyond surreal. They were talking about taking you to Kansas, for how long? You had a job and a life here. You couldn’t just uproot. And yet, within the last twenty-four hours, you wanted nothing more than to join these men, learn about these abilities you were seemingly developing, talk more with Castiel, learn from him, and figure all this shit out in your head.

Sam and Dean emerged from the bedroom, Dean looking unhappy and Sam looking slightly relieved.

“Y/N, we’ve talked it over and we think you’d be safest with us at our bunker in Kansas. We have all the lore and information there. We have protection spells to keep angels and demons out. You would be undetected. We know it’s a lot to ask, but we think if we leave you here alone...you could be in grave danger. You might even be killed,” Sam said.

“What...what all would it mean?” you asked, unsure what he was saying.

“You’d come live with us, we’d work together to see why you got these powers the same day Lucifer’s child was conceived and see how and if you tie in to all of this. You can leave as soon as you get your answers, and that’s fine. We just want to help you and protect you and you might even be able to help us,” he explained.

“For how long?” you wondered.

“However long it took. You can leave at any point. We just...we think we can help each other out. You wanna know why you’ve got angel radio and now powers to attack an angel, and we need some more help on the angel front, you might be able to help us find Lucifer’s kid, since you seem to somehow be connected to him.”

It was a huge question. A lot to ask…

“Let me call my boss, I want to see if I can sort out something work-wise and I’ll let you know,” you said.

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