#fic: the sins of the mother (the weight of the father) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wttcsms · 8 months

Text

time, mystical time (cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine) ; simon "ghost" riley.

pairing simon "ghost" riley x f!reader word count 3.3k synopsis snapshots of the defining moments in ghost's life. content contains slight angst, mild descriptions of alcohol abuse (ghost's father) + domestic abuse (non-explicit desc., but the act itself is mentioned various times), a bit of tiny look into my take on ghost's background, nsfw content, slight size kink, breeding kink, creampie, domestic fluff, pregnant!reader in some scenes, children (dad!ghost) author's notes takes place in this au & honestly is a lot more enjoyable of a read if you read that fic (+ the other connected one shots [go on my masterlist]). fun fact: simon is referred to as simon in the scenes with only you and his family. he's ghost anywhere else.

His mother had always told him that as a baby, he was always rather quiet. Scared her half to death, she would say, ‘cause he’d rarely ever cry. Even the doctor got worried when he first came out.

Looking back at his childhood — perhaps the lack thereof — Simon assumes it’s probably instinctual. With a deadbeat drunk of a father armed with a heavy hand, being quiet probably saved Simon’s life more times than he wants to admit. He’d be knocked upside the head for the littlest of reasons, shouted at for even less.

I’m the man of the house.

His father’s slurred justifications for doling out unfair punishments ring through the dark halls of his childhood home. Simon hears it while he cowers inside his closet. His room is dark because his father doesn’t believe in nightlights, and mum got slapped hard for daring to go against his wishes and trying to sneak Simon one. She thinks he didn’t see it, but Simon sees a lot more than he should. Since then, he’s been sleeping in the dark. It’s not so scary anymore.

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway.

It’s stuffy in the closet, and he knows it’s stupid to hide here because dad will find him any second now. The punishment is bad when he gets to drinking, and it gets worse whenever Simon tries to hide.

A loud thump against his door makes Simon hold his breath. Then, the door bangs open from the weight.

Kicking doors open comes second nature to Lieutenant Riley.

The loud crash of the door popping from the rusty hinges shocks the poor girls previously trapped behind them. All of them stay huddled together, staring fearfully at the loud, big men toting even louder, bigger guns. The hollowed cheeks, hopeless eyes, and array of bruises on their skin makes him sick. It’s a hot summer’s day, and Simon hates that after all this time, his observation from his childhood still stands true:

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway.

A bit hypocritical, he supposes. After all, he walks around in broad daylight, and he’s certainly no saint.

With the help of the rest of his extraction team, Ghost makes quick work of herding all the girls out of this depressing underground prison and out into a free world. He’s careful to be gentle with his touches, nothing more than a gentle guiding hand. Even with his gloves, he can’t be certain he’s not tainting them. Sins don’t wash away as easily as blood does.

He’s the last one to leave, but he doesn’t exit alone.

For a while, he felt a tight grip on his arm. Someone’s been clinging onto him this whole time, and with everything that’s happened, he can’t find it in his heart to shake them off. With no other distractions present, he finally turns to see who’s gotten so attached to him.

This is it.

This is the moment where Simon Riley claims his life begins.

It’s such a juvenile feeling, he thinks. Waiting for his phone to ring, wondering why you haven’t texted or called. It’s so silly. So what he saved your life? It’s not like you owe him anything. It’s his job. He had a duty. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides, he’s an asshole. Not the type of asshole who thinks he’s entitled to your company since he rescued you, but the type where Soap and the rest of the team aren’t too surprised he doesn’t have anyone to come home to.

He can’t sleep.

It’s been weeks since he gave you that burner phone. Surely you would have called, even sent a simple “hello”, if you really wanted to. He knows there’s not much to do in that facility. He knows that you haven’t been sleeping well. He knows that he should go to sleep; he’s got an early flight to catch in an active warzone, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get any semblance of rest as a result.

Instead of sleeping, he’s grabbing his own burner phone off the nightstand and staring at the screen. It’s a simple enough task, really. He can just head straight to his contacts list and click the only one that’s there. Isn’t it traditional for the guy to call first, anyway? Or is he just fooling himself into thinking that you’re waiting for him to make the first move? Do you want him to make the first move?

He’s never experienced this before. This newfound, boyish anxiety. The equal mixture of both hopelessness and hope churning in his stomach every time he sees you; do you think of him as much as he thinks of you? The question is then followed by a decisive no. He hasn’t survived this long because of blind optimism, so there’s no point in indulging in it now.

Will you come back then?

You looked up at him while asking this question, and you looked like an angel unfairly punished to walk alongside man. He wanted to spend the rest of his life constructing a stairway to heaven that you could use to make it back to your rightful home. When you look that beautiful and then proceed to ask him a question, what else was he supposed to say besides,

Whenever you want me to.

Perhaps God truly is as merciful as he is all-seeing, because after a minute of contemplation and staring longingly at your contact, his phone screen lights up with the notification he’s prayed for (the only thing he’s ever prayed for, really).

You’re calling him.

And true to his word, he’s on his way.

He’s never said I love you before, and as a result, he’s too scared to make his first attempt to do so, even though you just told him those three words yourself.

(He might tower over you, but looks can be deceiving. Simon thinks you’re much stronger and braver than him, in all the ways that matter.)

I love you.

He resists the urge to beg you to say it again and again and again, on repeat for the rest of your lives.

He doesn’t say it back immediately, but he does let you take off his mask for the first time.

He doesn’t realize that the wide-eyed, awestruck, soft gleam in your eyes as you take him in, fully, for the first time is the same starry-eyed look he gets whenever he looks at you. He has a feeling you’re well aware of it, but now he finds the courage to confirm it.

“I love you.”

And with a smile that could bring him back to life, all you have to say is, “I know.”

His mask is in your hands, after all.

“You never quite outgrow it, do ya?” Tommy’s got his hands in his pockets, but Simon can still picture the wedding band on his younger brother’s finger. He had been happy when Tommy tied the knot with Beth, if not a bit jealous.

Now, though, Simon’s got his own wedding band. It’s tucked underneath his uniform, hanging from the same chain his dog tags are. It rests against his chest, in a spot closest to his heart, right where it — you — belong.

Dad’s dead. Tommy says mum cried, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, she’s the one who faced his wrath for the longest. She’s been on the receiving end of all his harshness. She’s the one who’s taken the most hits, the hardest hits. Simon nods in agreement but doesn’t tell his brother that he thinks he might know why.

Simon knows his mother is a good woman. A long time ago, his father wasn’t the man he knew growing up. He doesn’t know when the change in his personality happened, and Simon somehow feels like it’s his fault. He was the catalyst, the trigger. While she was pregnant with him, that’s when the violence and the drinking and the anger started. He knows mum isn’t crying to mourn the man he became; she’s just finally safe to grieve about the man she loved and lost. Simon hasn’t been able to face her in a while since he’s come to the conclusion that his being born was the cause of everything horrible that has happened to her.

“No, I suppose not,” Simone says. The house feels smaller than he remembers, but when he walks into his childhood bedroom, he’s transported to darker times. The room is as big as the whole world again. This room, this damn house, is his only world. He’s nine and cowering in fear again. He’s little again. He’s scared again. He wants to run away, but his scrawny little legs won’t let him. Dad won’t let him.

Then he blinks and realizes that the room hasn’t changed all that much.

Within the next week, Simon gets the house demolished and the land sold.

“Ta-da!” You present to him a knitted, baby-blue blanket. The beginning stitchwork is sloppy at best with considerable improvement the further he looks. Between every thread, Simon can practically feel the love that’s stitched in it.

“You like it?” You ask him, looking at him expectantly.

“It’s perfect.”

“Liar!” Your laugh rings through the cabin, and Simon feels like he’s being bathed in sunlight from the warmth of the sound alone. It’s distinctly yours, and he doesn’t want to be the barbarian who just takes and takes, but he wants it all to himself. He wants to catch it from the air and stuff it in his pockets and save it for when he’s in a foreign country and can’t sleep at night.

“Why would I lie? It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

“I messed up, like, five times trying to get this damn thing started! And it was so hard to get into a good groove since Simon Jr. thinks he’s a little football player. He’s been kicking like crazy!” To prove your point, you get closer to Simon and take one of his large hands, placing it on your growing belly. He’s sitting, surrounded by tools and pieces of a crib that he’s trying to build, and all he can do is look up in admiration at you, the most beautiful woman to walk this earth, an angel too good for this world, the mother of his child, his wife, you. Your hand is on top of his, and you squeeze it gently, and he loves the way the diamond on your wedding ring glitters in the sunlight.

“He’s a strong one, alright.” Simon chuckles, feeling the way his son bumps against your belly.

“Must get it from you, then.”

That’s funny. Simon was just about to say that he’s pretty sure he gets it from you.

When he’s with you, Simon likes to take things slow. He can be rough at times, demanding and conquering you with nothing but brute strength and vulgar compliments. Like a true soldier, you take all of his transgressions in stride.

Tonight is one of the nights where Simon will indulge and finally take things slow. He likes to savor every moment he gets with you because no matter how much time has passed, the pessimist in him doesn’t stop reminding him that time is fickle, and the future is never promised.

But Simon wants to build a future with you. Simon has built a future, but he’s greedy. So, so greedy. He wants more, he wants all of you, he wants everything you’re willing to give him. The way you part your legs for him, how you willingly — lovingly — let him in, even though nature resists.

No matter how many times he’s split you open on his cock, even with the slickness of the previous two orgasms he so happily wrung out from you, there’s still resistance as the width and length of his cock struggle to slide into your cunt.

“It’s okay, love, let me in.” His whispers of reassurance are barely heard over your little whimpers. You’re nodding, trying to be a good girl for him, but the fact of the matter is that Simon Riley is incredibly too big. He is a god among men, and you find yourself squeezing his hand tightly as the first few inches of his cock make its way into your warmth.

“I know, darling.” He mumbles, but his gentle words are spoken roughly. Desire coats every syllable, and his voice is gravelly. He’s holding back, restraining himself from giving in and giving it to you roughly. His hand, so much larger than your own, squeezes back. He’s slowly pushing more of his length inside your needy cunt, and you moan at the feeling of being complete.

You don’t realize the tears that are welling up in the corner of your eyes as he completely enters you, the tip of his cock perfectly pressed against your cervix. Simon’s always been good at mixing pain and pleasure, and tonight is a testament to that.

“More, please.” It comes out like a weak, little whine, and Simon is putty in your hands. Completely malleable to your every whim and desire. His love wants more? He’ll give you everything.

Your lashes are wet with your tears, and he watches as tiny streams of tears fall down your heated cheeks. Your face feels warm to the touch, Simon realizes, as he leans down to kiss away your tears. Poor thing. You must have exerted yourself too much when you were thrashing around earlier as he refused to remove his mouth from your precious pussy until you came in his mouth.

You’re no match for the sheer strength and power of Simon, who’s built like a Greek god and probably just as powerful. You surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his cock stroking in and out of your cunt, and you’re damn near shameless in your greed and desire for more.

“Cum in me. I want you to give me another baby, wanna grow our family with you.” You toss your head back in pleasure, feeling the way his grip on your hand tightens at your words. The two of you move perfectly together; you wrap your legs around his waist as his free hand grips your hip to keep you steady.

“Yeah? My wife wants me to fuck another baby into her?” Simon grunts, doubling his efforts to ensure that his cock hits deep enough to press against all the spots that have your walls tightening around him.

The throbbing of his cock and the allure of expanding your family with Simon, with having a part of him always, even after the two of you have left this earth, is enough to send you over the edge. The ecstasy is all-consuming; all you know is Simon. You feel him to the depth of your core, his heat pressed against your own, your shared bedroom heavy with lust and love.

He loves the way your body goes slack from the intensity of your orgasm. It lets him know that he’s fucked you just the way you deserved to be fucked, filled to the brim with his cock and his cum and all his love. He kisses you hard, savoring the natural sweetness of your lips pressed against his own. He muffles your moans as you feel the endless stream of his cum spilling inside of you, the warmth of it all being almost too much to bear.

“Mmmf,” You pull back from his kiss, just so you can look him in the eyes as you give him his favorite reminder in the world.

“I love you.”

He responds with another deep kiss. It says enough. It says I love you, too, and we’re going for a round two.

He has all the time in the world with you.

He doesn’t feel any pain. That’s odd.

He looks back to the last minute. He heard the distinct sound of a gun firing, and he stumbled a bit as fate had its cruel fun and allowed the bullet to miraculously hit him in the one area his bulletproof gear just so happened to miss. What are the odds?

He looks down. A dark stain is forming on his uniform, and the spot only continues to grow bigger. He moves a hand down to where the stain is at — it’s wet. A fresh wound. Fuck.

The sentiment is shared with Soap, who for once in his life doesn’t have anything smart to say. Ghost wants to say something cheeky, then. Just to keep him calm. It worked with Tommy.

What’s the matter? Don’t worry about me. Should’ve seen the other guy. Almost had him in the last round.

The words, Ghost realizes with growing dread, don’t quite come so easily.

It’s like his brain knows what he wants to do, but nothing is going as planned. Soap is saying something, but he just can’t quite make out the words. Johnny, speak proper fucking English, why don’t ya?

No. That’s not the issue. Ghost frowns, but he doesn’t think Soap notices because of his damn mask. He can’t speak for shit, and he can’t hear, either. Actually, now that he’s really trying to take in his surroundings, everything’s a bit hazy, too. Like someone’s put some stupid film over everything, and stuff’s all slightly blurry. Just out of focus, just out of reach.

“—get you home, alright?” The words sound all jumbled up, and Ghost only really catches the last end of whatever Soap’s blabbing on about. He’s a good kid. Great soldier. Stellar human being. He mentioned something about going home, but that’s just silly. The mission isn’t over yet, get it? They can’t go home ‘til the mission’s complete.

“—don’t close your eyes—”

Home sounds nice. Warm vanilla in the colder seasons, jasmine with equal hints of something fruity and floral in the warmer ones. You fill the house with these scents, even matching your daily perfume to it. Doesn’t matter much to him, though. He hugs you close to his body and breathes in deeply, and he can still smell just you. No perfume will ever compare.

Oh, and a busy kitchen. You’re covered in flour, his son sits on the counter, his daughter in her high chair. The entire kitchen comes to life, and every time he sees all three of you giggling in unison, his favorite sound of all, this kitchen becomes his whole world. This is what he goes to war to protect.

Baby blue walls and a crib. Crayon drawings of a stick figure family. Watching his daughter’s first steps and his son clinging to your legs.

Maybe Soap’s right. Forget the mission. He should just head home.

But first, he’s really fucking tired. He’ll shut his eyes just for a minute.

He blinks a few times, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Light slaps against his face were the cause for his waking up. A damn shame, honestly. He rarely dreams, but when he does, it’s of you, and he was dreaming about something certainly worth remembering for the next time he’s reunited with you.

He rolls over to confront whoever dared to ruin the one good rest he’s had in a long time, only to come face to face with bright, innocent eyes the same shade as his own.

“G’morning,” his son says, the words still clumsy on the two-year-old’s tongue. When Simon doesn’t answer immediately, he resumes slapping his father’s face.

“I’m up, buddy.”

The little toddler claps his chubby little hands together in pure joy.

“Dada home?”

Like a sight for sore eyes, you appear in the doorway, gently opening the door and pushing it open. You’ve got your daughter in your arms, and you look ready to scold the young boy for disturbing Simon until you realize that he’s already awake. There’s that smile of yours that Simon loves so much, the one he swears could bring him back to life.

“I’m home.”

author's note i intended for these little scenes/glimpses of his life to be the things ghost sees as he's bleeding out on the field. get it? the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing BAHAHAHA. don't worry, he's alive and very much well, enjoying much needed domesticity with you + your little family. the last scene is him fucking u good and well, and that's the lil dream he was having. muahaha

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #one shot #drabble #fluff #angst #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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phillippadgettwrites · 4 months

Note

So. Any chance of a Dropped Call 3??

Dropped Call, Chapter 3

Rated X / 4743 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She thinks of it like a little toggle in her brain, like a switch. Or maybe more like a curtain that she can open and close at will. It’s something she developed as a teen, when her desire to remain pure of mind and body was in direct conflict with her desire to imagine what it might be like if Tommy Warner felt her up under her school uniform. Saturday night she’d stay up late discreetly discovering the hidden pleasure points between her legs, and then on Sunday morning she would simply flip the switch and go to Mass, her indiscretion so completely obscured behind her mental curtain that she felt no connection to Father Malone’s sermon on sins of the flesh.

Over the years, she’s found many uses for this mental trick. In school, in jobs, in relationships, she avoids being overwhelmed by her own emotions by simply setting them aside, behind the curtain, and pretending as though they don’t exist. It doesn’t always work, but she’s found that the more intense the emotion is or the higher the stakes are, the more effectively she can ignore it, at least until she’s alone. In a psychology course at UMD she learned that the term for this strategy is compartmentalization, and that when done to excess it can become maladaptive. Rather than examine whether her own compartmentalization was doing her more harm than good, she stuck that behind the curtain, too.

This whole bizarre situation with Mulder is taking up an increasingly large amount of space behind the curtain. So much space that she worries it could become uncontainable, that it could all burst through some Tuesday afternoon and ruin everything. She’s had to pull back on their friendship out of fear that the dam won’t hold, and the dichotomy of it all makes her feel like a stranger in her own life. She powers through each workday, counting down the hours until she can go home and stop using all her mental energy to hold the curtain closed. When she walks through her apartment door it hits her like a sneaker wave, and she spends the rest of the evening reading trashy romance novels, masturbating, or deep cleaning something just to keep herself distracted.

The worst part of it is that it’s just so stupid. She knows that they both want the same thing, knows it with absolute certainty, and yet she’s too cowardly to let it happen. She can cross all kinds of boundaries with a phone line between them, but the second his physical form is proximal to hers, the curtain swings shut and her walls go up, and she truly doesn’t know how to stop it from happening. As it turns out, defense mechanisms aren’t entirely voluntary.

It’s Friday, a week or so since their last sordid phone call, and Mulder is wearing his charcoal suit. He’s being excessively charming and she can’t stop smiling at him, despite her very best efforts not to. Not that she doesn’t want to smile and laugh with him, she very much does, but when he meets her eye and smiles at her like that, and she feels herself smiling back, the curtain strains against the weight of everything behind it and she begins to panic.

“What are you up to this weekend?” he asks when she starts to pack up her things a few minutes before five.

“Not much,” she says, not looking at him. “Grocery shopping. Maybe Mass with my mother.”

“Would it be okay if I gave you a call?”

She freezes. Mulder calls her all the time, near daily, and he’s never asked for permission to do so. The curtain bulges, threatening to split open, and she clears her throat.

“Sure, that’s fine,” she says, her eyes still downcast.

“Tonight?” His voice is so hopeful, and it makes her feel like shit.

“Okay.”

She puts on her coat and slings her bag over her shoulder. Before leaving, she forces herself to look at him.

“Have a good weekend,” she says with a polite little smile.

Mulder’s eyes narrow in that way that means he’s psychoanalyzing her, his head tilted increments to the side.

“Likewise,” he says, his tone unreadable.

She escapes into the hallway, holding the curtain closed with both hands.

Once inside her apartment, the weight of anticipation sits heavy in her pelvis and her ears tingle with the effort of listening for the phone. She changes into comfortable clothes and conveniently forgoes panties, barely registering the fact that she’s doing so to give herself easy access.

He could call at any time. It could be in five minutes, or five hours. When 8:00 pm comes and goes she entertains the idea of just calling him instead, but she doesn’t have any room for that behind the curtain so she decides to wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.

He finally calls at 8:57.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he says brightly. “Long time no talk.”

Is he being facetious since they just saw each other a few hours ago, or is he referring to the last time she played the role of Electra?

“It’s good to hear your voice,” she says, then makes a face at herself. Electra is supposed to be sexy, not sweet.

“Ditto. What are you up to?”

She’s standing in the middle of her living room, piqued and nervous, but that’s probably not what he’s hoping to hear.

“I’m…talking to you,” she says. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” he says with a sigh, “I have a bit of a conundrum.”

“Oh?” Scully paces slowly around her couch and coffee table. Where is he going to take this?

“I was hoping you could help me out,” he says.

“Okay. What’s the conundrum?”

“Well, it’s about my partner,” he says.

Scully sinks slowly down onto the couch.

“Okay.”

She hears Mulder swallow thickly.

“So I think,” he begins, “that she might be interested. That she might…share my feelings.”

Scully’s heart leaps and begins to pound against her ears.

“That’s…that’s good news, right?” she says, reminding herself that she is Electra right now.

“It is, absolutely. Phenomenal news,” he says emphatically.

“So what’s the conundrum?”

“I think she’s too afraid to take the next step. I know she is, actually,” he says. She can hear the way the sunflower seeds in his mouth change the shape of his words, and she imagines him spending the hours leading up to this phone call munching on them and thinking about how to have this conversation. “And I think maybe she needs me to be the one to do that. But if I’m wrong, I run the risk of fucking things up between us.”

“That sounds difficult,” she says, her head spinning.

“So what should I do?” he asks.

Electra wants to answer the question, but Scully is frantically shoving things back behind the curtain, tugging at the edges in an attempt to keep it all hidden.

“I think you’re right,” she blurts out, closing her eyes. “I think she does need you to be the one.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“But should I wait?” he asks. “Maybe she’s not ready.”

“I imagine she’s as ready now as she’ll ever be,” she says, eyes still closed. The curtain is tearing right down the middle, the contents spilling out, and her stomach lurches.

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Scully sits up, opening her eyes. Was that it?

“No problem.”

“Hey, can I call you right back?” Mulder says, his tone much lighter.

“Sure, okay.”

Her heart pounds painfully hard in the roughly thirty seconds that she waits for him to call back. Maybe he’s going to call Scully this time. Maybe he’s going to put it all out in the open and force her hand. Even though it’s what she just told him he should do, she’s so terrified that she considers not answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, me again, sorry about that,” he says.

So…she’s still Electra?

“It’s fine,” she says, then waits for him to speak.

“I was hoping we could try something different,” he says. “Bit of a role reversal.”

“Um, okay,” she says, curious but worried. “What did you have in mind?

“I’ve told you about my fantasies.” A pause. “I’d like to hear about yours.” Her entire nervous system short circuits, and she briefly loses touch with reality. “Electra?”

“Yeah,” she sputters, shifting around on the couch uncomfortably. “I’m here. Is that…allowed?”

Mulder laughs nervously.

“The arrangement is that I pay you to talk to me. There aren’t really rules beyond that.”

“Oh.” Her mind is going a million miles an hour trying to figure out how to sidestep this. “That’s, um…that’s quite private, though.”

“True. But I’d argue that you’ve been given unfettered access to my private thoughts, so it’s an equal exchange,” he reasons.

She can tell that he won’t push much further. He knows her too well to do that. But he does have a point, and she still harbors some guilt for not stopping him when he shared his fantasy with her in that first phone call.

“Yeah, that’s true,” she says. “What do you want to know?”

She senses his excitement, and she’s so conflicted between feeling excited herself and feeling terrified. There will be no coming back from this. The curtain is practically in tatters.

“I would be ecstatic to hear literally anything you’re willing to share,” he says carefully, tempering his eagerness.

Scully leafs through her mental file of fantasies, the ones she’s prone to revisit. Her cheeks get hot as she considers the idea of sharing any of them with Mulder, in no small part because he stars in every single one of them. But right now he’s talking to Electra, and Electra would be fantasizing about someone else. She finds an intact corner of the curtain and draws it up, separating herself from the situation.

“We’re in my kitchen,” she says, jumping right into it. “We’ve just had dinner or something and we’re cleaning up. He’s helping me with the dishes.”

“Who is he?” Mulder interrupts.

“He’s…a friend.”

“A close friend?”

“Yes. A best friend.” She can’t leave him to wonder if she’s talking about him. That feels too cruel. “A coworker,” she adds.

“What does he look like?”

Scully lays back on the couch, propping her head on the armrest. She pictures Mulder earlier that day at work in his charcoal suit, smiling at her over his desk.

“Tall. Dark features. Handsome.”

“You think so?”

She smiles and allows this brief break in their role play.

“I do. Very much.”

“So you’re in the kitchen,” he prompts her.

“We’re in the kitchen and we’re kind of joking around, laughing. He’s teasing me, but not in an unkind way. And there’s a moment where he’s looking at me and smiling, and something passes between us. Moments like that happen all the time, but I always look away.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid,” she admits.

“Of what?”

She takes a moment to consider the question. As conflicted as she is when it comes to her relationship with Mulder, she’s never allowed herself to think too deeply about what exactly she’s conflicted about.

“Of being hurt, I guess. Of being vulnerable.”

“You think he’d hurt you?” he asks, maybe a bit wounded.

“Not intentionally,” she says. “But I think it could easily happen.”

She senses that he’d like to explore this line of thought, but that would completely derail the fantasy. She hears a beeping sound and then a soft thud. Maybe the microwave. Leave it to Mulder to get hungry at a time like this.

“I’m sure he’d do everything possible to avoid that,” he says somberly. “So do you look away?”

“No,” she says, jumping back to the kitchen in her mind. “I don’t look away this time, and it becomes…intense. He steps closer and I realize he’s going to kiss me.”

“And you want him to?”

“Yes, very much. He kisses me and it’s sweet at first, but quickly becomes more…intense. Sorry, I can’t think of a different word to use.”

“Intense is a good word,” he says, encouraging her.

His connection is a bit muffled, like the phone isn’t quite lined up correctly to his mouth. She wonders if he’s in bed, and what he’s doing.

“He picks me up and puts me on the counter, which makes things much easier because he’s quite a bit taller than me. And we just kiss for a while. I guess…I guess more accurately it would be making out.”

“Do you think he’s a good kisser?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately.

“You’ve given this thought?”

“Yes,” she says again.

“And then what?”

Scully swallows. This is where things go from PG-13 to explicit.

“And then he pulls me down off the counter so I’m standing on the floor, and he turns me around.” Mulder is silent on the other end of the line. All she hears is a mechanical hum. “And he, um, he pulls my pants and underwear down. And then he sort of pushes me forward so I’m leaning over the counter.”

Her heart simply cannot take this. It’s been in overdrive so long she’s starting to sweat, and she’s lying completely still on the couch.

“What does he do?” Mulder finally asks.

“I think he’s going to…to take me from behind, but he doesn’t,” she says, her voice shaking. “He kneels on the floor behind me.”

“Tell me.” His voice is commanding, not pleading, and it’s effective.

“He, um, he eats me out from behind. He makes me orgasm that way,” she says.

She hears the rush of Mulder’s sharp inhale through the phone.

“Is that where it ends?” he asks.

She barely registers another set of beeps and another soft thud.

“No,” she continues. “After that he does take me from behind.”

“He fucks you?”

The sharpness of the word, from Mulder’s mouth, in reference to herself, makes her clit jump. Scully slides her free hand under the waist of her pants and swirls her middle finger around it languidly.

“Yes,” she breathes. “He fucks me.”

“Do you come again?”

“Yes.”

“What about him?”

“He comes inside me.”

“You want him to?”

“I do.”

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks, his voice a near whisper.

“Yes,” she whispers back.

“Open the door,” he says.

“What?”

“Open the door.”

Her confusion gives way to horror as she recognizes the soft murmur of his voice in the hallway. She’s frozen in place, her hand down her pants and her widened eyes on her front door.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” she hisses, pulling her hand out of her pants as she slips down to the floor and attempts to hide behind the couch.

“Please let me in,” he implores, and she hears his voice in stereo.

“I can’t,” she whimpers.

It feels true. She feels physically incapable of walking to the door and allowing him to look at her after what she just told him.

“Then I’m going to let myself in,” he says.

He waits a beat to see if she’ll object, but she says nothing. She hears the scrape of his key in the lock and then the pop of the deadbolt. The door opens and she slowly stands up from behind the couch, the phone still pressed to her ear.

He’s standing in her entryway, his cell phone in one hand and his keys in the other, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. He catches her eye and holds it for a beat, and she pulls the phone away from her ear, breaking eye contact to end the call. And then she just stands there, shell-shocked, staring at the phone in her hands.

She hears him slip off his shoes and pad across the room towards her. There’s nowhere for her to hide, physically or emotionally. The curtain is toast, and her fingers are coated in her own arousal, and Mulder is in her living room with full knowledge of what she wishes he would do to her. This is either the best or the worst moment of her adult life. She’s afraid to find out which.

He takes the phone from her and sets it on the coffee table. Next she feels his hands on her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. She complies reluctantly, and a few seconds tick by as the familiar intensity builds. She sees in his face how much he wants this, wants her, and it reaches that point she can’t bear where she always looks away. Just when she can’t take it any longer, when she’s about to avert her eyes to the fireplace, he kisses her.

At first it’s sweet. He presses his soft lips against hers again and again, a series of firm but chaste kisses that begin to devolve when she opens her mouth and he runs his tongue across the inside of her upper lip. He’s bent down and she’s on the tips of her toes, and it feels like she just can’t get close enough.

She squeals with surprise when her feet fly out from beneath her and Mulder tosses her down on the couch, quickly covering her body with his own. Their height difference compensated for, he kisses her deeply and intensely, and he is every bit as skilled at kissing as she imagined him to be. His hips are tucked between her open legs, and the more they kiss the smaller the gap between their bodies grows until she feels the hard ridge of his erection press against her clit. She whimpers into his open mouth, and he pulls back a little to look at her.

“Do you want this?” he asks breathlessly, and she nods. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop?” She nods again.

He shifts his body to the side to free up one of his hands, then resumes kissing her. His hand drifts up under her shirt, and she feels like she could come just from the knowledge that he’s going to touch her, that this is happening. He kneads her breast, gently pinches her nipple, all the while grinding against her hip. It feels so deliciously forbidden, like they’re two teenagers necking in a basement, until his hand slides down her belly and under the waist of her pants.

He pauses, giving her time to adjust or object. She just keeps kissing him as his fingers comb through her pubic hair and then trace the seam of one leg, and then the other. She remembers his fantasy, and she shifts one of her legs to the side to let him know she’s ready. That she wants it.

“Jesus christ,” he mumbles against her mouth when his fingers slide down her slick lips.

His touch, his words, his presence, have her on the edge already.

“Mulder,” she breathes out. “I—”

He pushes a finger inside her and she gasps as her cunt squeezes it tightly.

“Oh, Scully,” he says, grinding against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. “You need this.”

She can’t stop it. She’s coming with hardly any warning, with hardly any effort on his part, and with such intensity that she stops breathing. Mulder whispers things to her that she will recall later and blush, gently fucking her with his fingers all the while. It is absolute euphoria, and she’s so high on dopamine that she can’t bother feeling embarrassed for being so easy.

Mulder slips his hand out of her pants and she turns her body so that they are face to face, somehow both wedged onto her tiny couch. She runs her fingers through his hair and then cradles his jaw, and he watches her face with awe.

“That was unexpected,” she says quietly, and a grin breaks out over his face. “Thanks for coming over,” she adds, averting her eyes to his mouth.

His smile suddenly falls. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and she lifts her eyes back to his.

“I know,” she says, and then she kisses him.

The kissing goes on for a delightfully long while, and she finds that she very much enjoys the way that Mulder kisses. At the realization that she has the long awaited opportunity to get her hands on the everpresent bulge in his pants, she runs her palm firmly over the front of his jeans, and he groans.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, extremely unconvincingly.

“What if I want to?” she asks.

She feels him lurch under her palm.

“Then I’d say we probably need to take this party to the bedroom,” he says tightly.

They scramble off the couch, and he walks her backwards into her bedroom as he works her shirt off over her head. He removes his shirt as well, and they stand at the foot of her bed, his fingers tucked under the waist of her pants. A lamp in the living room is still on, but the bedroom is dark, giving them enough light to see without feeling exposed.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing panties,” he says, and she feels herself blushing.

“They just get in the way,” she admits shyly, and he makes a little sound that’s somewhere between a whine and a moan.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, and she nods.

She feels his eyes on her, but he’s very respectful. He doesn’t stand back to gawk at her or say anything lewd, he just kisses her face, the tops of her shoulders, anything he can reach without sitting down. Before he does so for the sake of getting his mouth on her breasts, she pops the button on his fly and he sucks in a breath.

“Easy, loaded weapon,” he quips.

“I’d be a hypocrite to judge you,” she points out.

“That’s, uh, not quite the same,” he says as she lowers his fly and slips her fingers under his boxers at his hips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

She pushes his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs and then wraps her hand around his cock. Her eyebrows shoot up, and that’s before she runs her palm over the length of him.

“You know that I hate to inflate your ego,” she says, sliding her hand down to cup his balls, “but color me impressed.”

He chuckles and it dissolves into a groan. He sits heavily on the end of the bed, tugging her down with him, and she climbs into his lap. His cock brushes against her clit and she sucks in a shuddering breath.

“What do you want?” he asks, steadying her with his hands on her naked hips while he works his feet the rest of the way out of his jeans.

“...I don’t know,” she says, which is a lie.

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to say?” he asks, reading her mind as always.

She reaches between them and takes hold of his cock.

“I want this,” she whispers, feeling like she might burst into flames.

They start kissing again and she’s still stroking him, brushing him over her clit. She pushes up onto her knees a little and drags the head down over her lips and across her opening. She’s obscenely wet and Mulder is making all kinds of greedy, hungry noises: groaning and humming, grabbing at her ass and sucking on her breasts. He’s right there, and they both want this, and when she presses the head of him against her cunt and he starts to sink in, the energy in the room shifts.

“Oh, shhhhhhhhhhit,” he groans, his breathing suddenly ragged.

She feels proud, and sexy, and powerful as he stretches her open inch by inch. It hurts a little, but not near enough for her to even consider stopping. They’re both panting like they’ve exerted themselves and they’re only just getting started.

She lifts her hips again and sinks back down before she’s even managed to take him in all the way; she just can’t wait any longer. He has one hand on her hip, the other braced against the mattress behind him to keep them from toppling over, and his hips are eagerly flexing up to meet her. Each time she lowers herself back down she takes in a bit more of his length, until they are pressed tightly together and she feels the poke of his pubic hair against her swollen lips.

She stills and immediately he’s kissing her, sucking at her lips and humming noisily. She loves the sounds he’s making and how eager he is, how openly enthusiastic. God, she wants to make him come. Wants to feel him throbbing inside her, running out of her.

She starts to shift her hips forward and back, slipping him tightly in and out and running his shaft across her clit on each downstroke.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You feel…incredible.”

His compliment goes straight to her cunt and she flutters around him, making him moan.

“I’m gonna come,” she whispers shyly against his mouth.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come,” he says harshly, like this is bad news.

But the idea of him coming inside her is enough to send her over the edge. She digs her fingernails into the back of his neck and presses her forehead against his as she clamps down on him, her mouth open and her eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my god,” she wails as a tsunami of pleasure crashes over her, sweeping her out to sea.

Mulder lets loose a stream of obscenities and she feels a hot rush deep in her belly. She rides him roughly as it just keeps coming and coming, and he falls backwards onto the bed, taking her down with him. He keeps thrusting up into her from below, and the wet slosh of both of them is almost embarrassing, had she the faculties for embarrassment. He finally becomes too soft to continue thrusting and there is a second hot rush when he slips out of her.

She collapses against him, her cheek pressed to his sweat-damp chest, and waits for the inevitable surge of shame and regret, even though she knows it’s not shameful and she certainly doesn’t regret it. Without warning, Mulder wraps his arms around her and rolls her to the side, which does nothing to contain the mess between her legs. He hovers over her, searching her face, knowing her well enough to predict that she’ll struggle in the immediate aftermath.

“You okay?” he asks, trailing the back of his knuckle across her cheek.

She gives him a weak smile and nods, though tears are pooling in her eyes. She’s not even sure why.

“Please don’t take my demeanor as an indication of anything,” she says, touching his waist. “It’s not about you, I just…this is difficult for me.”

“I know,” he says. “Take as much time as you need.”

She nods, waiting for the tightness in her throat to subside before she tries to speak again.

“I’m sure Electa doesn’t require this much emotional maintenance,” she jokes, swiping a finger under her eye to clear a way a tear before it has a chance to fall.

Mulder smiles at her and sighs.

“I haven’t called her in weeks, just so you know,” he says. “And I don’t plan to.”

“You can call whoever you want, Mulder, I have no right to an opinion on it,” she says quickly, panicking at the idea that he feels beholden to her.

He rests his head on her chest just above her breast and curls up around her, which feels a bit backwards but also feels very nice. She strokes his hair and he splays his hand out over the scar on her belly, and they are quiet for a beat.

“I’d like you to have a right to an opinion on it,” he says suddenly, quietly, and it takes her a moment to follow.

“...You would?”

“Doesn’t have to be right away, but yes.”

“Okay,” she says.

He doesn’t ask what that okay means, which she’s grateful for because she doesn’t really know. And even though she’s not brave enough to ask him to stay over, he seems to know that she wants him to, and he stays. She has absolutely no idea what she’s doing, but she trusts that they’ll figure it out together, like they always do.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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whataboutthefish · 1 year

Note

Hi hi! I hope you’re well. I am craving to read omega Steve whose parents don’t allow him to nest. Or Steve’ parents flipping out when they come home unannounced and find his nest. I know you have written a couple of drabbles about nesting, which were all fantastic 😍 but I was wondering if you had any other thoughts or knew of any fics like this? Either way, I hope you have a great day!

Hi nonny!

Thank you for the prompt, I've had a great time whumping the heck out of omega Steve. I hope you enjoy!!

As for other fics, I have to admit I'm a terrible fan and I don't really read a lot of fics at all. I'm stuck in writing mode. But if anyone reading this has recs for Stranger Things nesting fics please comment below!

Now onto the angst

Omega Steve, pre-steddie, alpha Eddie, religious trauma, abuse, neglect, Steve's terrible parents

Words - 2k

Steve knew two things to be true, one- that he was a shame upon his family and two - being a male omega was the mark of the devil.

He’d been told this since birth, every memory laced with these facts and Steve had watched it proven to be true time and again. Steve was a great shame upon his family and his mother, to have birthed him, there was no sin greater. Steve was taught to atone before he even knew how to tie his shoes. Steve spent a lifetime on his knees praying to a god who saw only evil when he looked upon him.

He was given no comforts in life, he believed if he gave way to sin then he could bring about the end of times. Steve wanted to try chocolate but he wasn’t evil, he couldn’t do that to the world.

When Steve’s first heat hit he was so scared, he was home schooled and knew nothing of an omega’s cycle. He ran straight to his mother begging for help as slick ran down his legs and he craved something he couldn’t name. It hurt so bad, and he didn’t understand. His mother tied him to his bed, grasped the family bible to her chest and prayed by his side for two days.

Steve wasn't allowed a nest, that was a comfort afforded to clean omegas. His mother had been a clean omega- chosen by god- before Steve came and soiled her. Steve was just a stain upon his family.

His mother still had a nest, it was only right and fitting since Steve’s father as head of the home, deserved the comfort. He would look in at his mothers nest when he could, stolen glances, wishing to reach out to take a piece and take comfort in the scent of family.

Steve never got to touch though, the door was locked when his parents were not home, and he was alone a lot in that large empty house. The older he got the more he had to repent, the more his body changed, softening and blooming, it was only more proof he hadn’t prayed hard enough, that he was breaking rules.

Steve thought he knew all the rules, was good at following them to the letter but he must not know them all, it didn’t matter how hard he tried he kept losing.

His parents started leaving him alone for longer periods, Steve’s father always working and his mother, done with her dirty secret at home went to live a life not weighted down by the blight that was her son. He was sent him to public school then.

High school was so much more than he could have imagined, he was shy at first everything so new and strange, people acting like this was real life, like they didn’t have a the weight of sin laying on their shoulders.

Then Steve actually started to make friends, first was Robin, a sweet beta that had a sharp whit and even sharper tongue. Then there was Tommy and his girlfriend an alpha pair that Steve couldn’t even begin to understand, who were both a bit brash but Steve loved how easily they swore, it made him blush bright every single time. Nancy was Steve’s first omega friend, he had his first sleep over at her house, his heart hammering in his chest when her beta boyfriend Jonathan climbed through the window with a movie and snacks.

And then there was Eddie, an alpha who somehow subverted every societal norm and still command the room. Steve blushed bright red every time the alpha looked his way, Robin swore Steve had a crush, but Steve wasn’t sure. There was no way an alpha would want someone like him, no matter how often Eddie seemed to hang around when Steve was there. Even as he made friends and learned more about the world, he was still the stain upon his family.

Steve learned to forge his mothers signature to join sports teams, he knew it was wrong but he wasn’t hurting anyone, surely it wasn’t the worst sin. Steve felt out of his depth for every minute of it, continually waiting for the other shoe to drop and yet it didn’t. He found he was good at sports, his friends were so encouraging, his couch put him in the game early and the fact he was an omega never seemed to work against him.

Of course when his heat his mother returned, calling in to school for him then strapping him down to his bed and leaving him to ride out the pain alone. Steve was always so aware of her presence so close but nowhere in reach. When his heat was over his mother left, barely a word spoken, no indication of when she’d be back.

Somehow this time it hurt so much more, now Steve knew what connection felt like, he’d seen his friends with their families, saw the touches and the way they scented one another, he saw comfort asked for a given freely. The stark comparison to his own life hurt like a knife to the heart.

As his friendships bloomed it also came with gifted nest items. A common practice among friends was to share scented items for one anothers nests. Steve took these items, treasured them and began to slowly assemble a nest. Hidden in the base of his closet he surrounded himself in the scents of his friends. His most treasured item, a shirt from Eddie, his scent felt like coming home, if Steve was honest he was obsessed with Eddie’s scent.

He went to the mall and bought a couple of blankets and a body pillow that was so soft Steve never wanted to let go, letting himself give in to the need within him, a need he hadn’t realised he’d had. What he thought was just a constant state of unease from holding the sin of the devil turned out to be his inner omega in pain. He bought a bunch of cheap shirts that he pushed into his nest for a couple of weeks before he was able gift them to his friends. The joy he saw when they received the gifts made Steve question everything his mother had ever said.

And the way Eddie’s nostrils flared and eyes darkened did things to Steve and had him running to the bathroom when he felt wetness pool between his legs. Robin had followed him, talked him down from a panic attack as he curled into a ball on the filthy floor in a bathroom stall

Steve started to question everything his mother had claimed, because surely people wouldn’t want the scent of evil in their nests, and yet they eagerly took his offered items.

Questioning his mother’s words like this was ultimately a mistake because Steve started to relax, he became careless at home. Leaving the door to his nest open, letting items spill out as he stretched out in his nest. He started to scent mark the house, it was all unconscious actions but finally his omega was allowed some comfort and naturally that comfort spilled into every aspect of his life.

The day Steve had finally let Robin scent him, he’d melted into the touch as the beta rubbed her cheek against Steve’s, it was nothing more than a comfort and friendship, nothing sexual about it. Steve felt bouant as he drove home, he’d never imagined how amazing holding someone elses scent on his skin could feel and he couldn’t wait to get home and roll around in his nest, sharing that scent so it would last longer.

The way his whole world came crashing to a halt when he drove up to his house. His father’s car sat in the driveway, the lights in the house shining through the windows and when he glanced to his bedroom window his stomach dropped. The light was on, and he could see the silhouette of a person standing in the room.

Steve opened the door, shrinking in on himself when he heard the lines of scripture falling angrily from his mothers mouth. He thought he might be sick when he heard the sound of shredding fabric, blindly running up to his room, falling to his knees when he saw what was happening inside.

His mother was destroying his nest, her sewing shears rending it to shreads as she tore into the fabric. Her words tumbled into tongues compelled by the spirit spitting and baring her teeth as Steve shook and cried bent over in supplication, neck bared and utterly helpless.

That night his mother spilled rice across the hardwood floor in the cold kitchen, pushed Steve to his knees and watched while he prayed the entire night. His legs had gone to sleep hours ago, the pain that struck like needles into his knees and shins by the end the pain came in waves as he swayed on his knees fighting sleep, repeating the prayers until the sun came up.

Steve was sent to school with no sleep, it was Eddie that saw him attempt to hobble his way into the school, it was Eddie that ushered him into the back of his van with little effort. Steve was barely a shell of himself, his scent dulled and mind clouded in a fog of fatigue and pain. Steve didn’t speak, only pulled the leg of his pants up and allowed Eddie to help pick the rice from his skin. They didn’t go to school that day, instead Eddie drove out to lovers lake and let Steve curl up into his side and sleep.

Steve wakes with a fright shooting upright and unsure where he is until Eddie’s deep purr comes from behind him and Steve turns to see Eddie relaxed back against a pile of blankets in the back of his van. He knows he has to go home, his thoughts are still sluggish his head still full of fog but his body has stopped aching and some part inside of him feels so much more at ease than ever before. He’s never slept so easily, even if he was sleep deprived the level of comfort he feels right now is so overwhelming he doesn’t really know how to process it.

Eddie drives him back to school and Steve’s car, Steve doesn’t think twice when Eddie leans in to scent him, Steve melts into the touch and whines when Eddie pulls away. Eddie promises to be here tomorrow, that Steve can get through this. Steve doesn’t let himself linger on the reality, that Eddie is in no position to promise those things, instead he holds the promises against his heart and dares to hope.

When he gets home though all of that disappears. His mother and father were sat at the dinning table with a priest. The shreds of Steve’s nest lay on the table along with forged notes and what looks like the contents of his gym bag. When he gets close enough he see’s the three of them scent the air.

Steve arrives scenting so thoroughly of an alpha that even his father begins to shout, his mother prays rocking back and forth and the priest, he has a look of danger in his eyes, a look that has Steve’s hindbrain in a panic, a look that promises pain.

Eddie waits for Steve the next day and next and the day after that, he waits every day for a week, before he dares to drive past Steve’s house. A for sale sign hangs in the yard and the place is dark. Steve’s friends do their best to search for him, but they are young and their resources are limited. It doesn’t stop Eddie from waiting just an extra few minutes every morning, search the car park for any sign of Steve.

It doesn’t stop Eddie from travelling the country, moving from job to job searching, always searching for the chance that he might see that brown haired omega that could have been his.

#stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steddie drabble #angst #nesting #religious trauma #my writing

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piedpiperslists · 2 months

Note

Is there any jungkook smuts/fics based on like a church setting, or any virgin jungkook fics you can recommend me please?

Hi. These are the fics I can think of with a church setting:

* s - contains smut

Doxology by dark-muse-iris - one shot (s) / wc~6.3k / secret relationship, PWP Summary: It’s Easter Sunday, one of the holiest of days for your presumed faith. But instead of spending it taking in the Lord’s message while tucked between your devout parents, you’re off sinning with the man who knows how truly wicked you are.

The Kids Aren’t Alright by sketchguk - one shot (s) / wc~10.5k / pastor’s kid!reader, FWB Summary: Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

Shiver by hansolmates - series (s) / bad boy!Jungkook, church girl!reader, childhood friends to lovers, FWB Summary: Your childhood crush Jeon Jungkook has changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. When he returns for a Christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. In exchange, Jungkook craves a taste of you.

As for virgin!Jungkook fics, here's about 15 fics listed under the cut. But is this a trend lately, the asks I've gotten have been mostly about virgin!Jungkook lmao

A Blight on the Heart by thatlongspringnight - one shot (s) / wc~13.3k / established marriage, historical au Summary: You married him because you wanted a new life, and even with the struggle, the fights, you’d marry him again any day. Or - Jungkook loves you from the moment he reads your first letter, and the rest is history.

But We Loved Too Young by jl-micasea-fics - one shot (s) / wc~10.4k / childhood friends to lovers Summary: Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

Close the Distance by hearts4joon - one shot (s) / wc~13.5k / college au, neighbors au Summary: Two different adults, living two completely separate lives — in the same neighborhood. A guy who’s overbearing mother makes him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. A girl who’s parents are all too drawn to her younger siblings to even give her the time of day. While the two fall in an unlikely relationship (very unlikely), they still ravish each and every part of one another in every way — the best of attention, the one they both craved all their lives.

Ghosts Just Wanna Have Fun by sugaxjpg - one shot (s) / wc~20k / med school au, psychic au Summary: When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

Gotcha by whatifyoulivelikethat - one shot (s) / wc~11k / childhood friends to lovers, college au Summary: The color blue. Two white hairpins. “Hey, Jungkook.” A laugh with shaking shoulders that Jeon Jungkook thought he would hear and see forever. Hey, Jungkook. But then those words became a memory, until she was standing in front of him again, sporting the title of “Virgin Killer” and Min Yoongi by her side. Was this his second chance or just another memory?

I Want to Have Sex by jeongi - one shot (s) / wc~7.2k / established relationship Summary: You plan on taking your boyfriend, Jungkook’s, virginity tonight.

Infatuated by namsjunies - one shot (s) / wc~3k / university au

Need to Know by pixieknj - one shot (s) / wc~4.4k / virgin!Jungkook, friends to lovers Summary: Jungkook’s tired of you teasing him…

The Virgin Volume by kpopfanfictrash - one shot (s) / wc~6.8k / angst, college au Summary: The story of how The Rich Man’s Crochet Club Jungkook lost his virginity. Prequel to The Monogamy Monologues.

Here's more virgin!Jungkook but I keep getting an error, so I had to break up the list.

Wait, You're a Virgin? by joonsmagicshop - one shot (s) / wc~8.8k / college au Summary: Jungkook gets teased at a college party for being a virgin and asks you to help him out

Will You Make a Mess Now? by softyoongiionly - one shot (s) / established relationship, college au Summary: Jungkook’s never been touched before and, after a hectic end to his semester, he thinks he wants that to change… Can I Make a Mess Now? by softyoongiionly - one shot (s) / established relationship, college au Summary: Jungkook’s never had sex before but, after realizing that he’s falling in love with you, he thinks he wants that to change.

Glitter and Disquiet by joheunsaram - two shots (s) / CEO!Jungkook, YouTuber!reader, enemies to lovers, chaebol au Summary: Poised to inherit Korea’s largest gaming company in a few months, the world looks at Jeon Jungkook as a symbol of envy. Why wouldn’t they? He has everything, riches, power, and according to the rumour mill, endless women. Little do they know that his father’s company is on the verge of downfall, he barely has respect of his employees, and regardless of the rumours, he’s just a virgin saving himself for true love.

For Science by boymeetsweevil - series (s) / nerd!Jungkook, friends to lovers, FWB, college au Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

One Time, In Your Room by ubemango - series (s) / established relationship, college au Summary: There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

#fics ask #fic rec

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little-diable · 1 year

Text

The Purest Form of Yourself - Priest!Spencer Reid (smut)

Oh boy. This is @hidingsikki fault, and maybe the one of my dark thoughts. My first ever Priest Reid fic and its quite something, oh well, remember: don't like it, don't read it. But please, if you enjoyed reading this, like and reblog. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader's parents think that she's possessed by Satan, priest Reid is their last hope. And yet, even though he knows that she isn't guided by the dark Lord himself, the man of God can't help but take advantage of the situation.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected PIV, oral (m receiving), intercourse in a church, religious connotations, dom!Spencer

Pairing: Priest!Spencer Reid x fem!reader (2k words)

header by @hidingsikki

Tears glistened on her cheeks as the car kept driving past the all too familiar houses. She had tried to rip herself free from her mother’s grasp, had tried to push her weight against the car door, hoping to escape before her life would forever be changed, though without any luck. (Y/n) could still hear her father’s words ringing in her ears, how he had forced her out of her room, telling her about the only man that could save her from Satan’s grasp.

“The devil’s inside of you, I can feel it, you need to be pure again. Priest Reid shall free your innocent soul.”

(Y/n) hadn’t been able to stop her laughter from bubbling out of her, unsure if her father was making fun of her or if he was truly planning on dragging her to the town’s church. Sounds that had only added more confusion to her parents mind, unsure if the demon was communicating with them. The second her father had grasped (y/n)’s wrists, she had known that there was no way out, all because of the past weeks and the darkening thoughts stretching themselves through her system.

Ever since winter had rolled upon the country, her mood had been dampened, unable to voice out what brought tears to her eyes, unable to voice out the pain she was feeling. Perhaps she should have kept this from her parents, perhaps she should have acted as if nothing was wrong, and yet she hadn’t found the strength to do so, hoping that they’d help her.

“Please, turn around, there’s nothing wrong with me.” Sobs rumbled through her as (y/n) spoke up, groaning in pain. Her throat was sore, tight from the pressure her screams had pressed onto her vocal cords, making her parents believe that something darker was housing in her flesh cage. Neither her mother nor her father dared to reply, eyes focused on the church ahead, praying to God that the priest would help them.

(Y/n) could make out his frame from afar, standing in front of the wooden building with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Priest Reid wore a black, simple suit, the golden cross he usually carried around with himself dangled from his neck like a pendant swinging in front of one’s eyes. For the past months she had found herself growing rather fond of the handsome man, imagining hours spent together, with her hands buried in his curls and her eyes rolling back into her head.

Sinful thoughts she had confessed to after the first night she had made herself cum to the thought of him. The priest hadn’t said much back then, and yet, with a smile tugging on his lips, he had freed her from her sins - very well knowing that he’d claim them soon enough.

The second the car came to a halt, he stepped closer, opening the door (y/n) was pressed against. Strong hands caught her trembling frame, pressing the sobbing woman against his warm chest, “Thank you for bringing her here, I shall take good care of your daughter. You’ll be contacted once she’s freed from Satan’s grasp.”

Her parents didn’t notice how he tightened his grasp on her side, thumb rubbing against the side of her chest, teasing the skin that wasn’t covered by her bra. Her parents also didn’t notice how a slight smile tugged on his lips as his eyes met hers, very well aware that no demon was plaguing her body. Even though the priest knew that she was in no need of being freed from a demon nor Satan, he’d use the situation to his advantage, taking what he had been lusting after for months.

All (y/n) could do was watch her parents leave, not once did they turn back towards her, sparing their daughter one last glance. All (y/n) could do was put her trust in the priest and his guiding touch, hoping that he’d see clearer than her parents. All (y/n) could do was pray that this nightmare was about to be broken by her screams rumbling through her, ripping her from her sleep.

“Come, let’s get you inside.” Tugged towards the church, (y/n) felt herself zoning out for a moment, wondering what he’d do to her, if he’d be willing to listen to her or if he walked the same path like her parents.

The church was dark inside, only a few candles flickered in the distance, flames moved by the silent breeze that stroked along the wooden creation. Priest Ried guided her towards the altar, hand finding her shoulder to push her to her knees. Almost automatically she started praying her Hail Mary, hoping that He was listening. She felt the priest's eyes on her frame, burning through her skin as if she was nothing more than a translucent veil.

“You see, an exorcism takes time, time I don’t have for a woman guided by her primal instincts, by her needs and urges. Your body calls out to me, it may be guided by a demon sent from Hell, begging for the forbidden release, though you’re not guided by Satan. I shall satisfy your needs so you can return to your purest form.” Priest Reid stared down on her, eyes wandering along her frame, the goosebump covered limbs and the cheeks that were still graced by the tears she had cried. Heat brushed through her, urging on the nervousness she felt, unsure if she’d be able to withstand the calling.

“What will you do?” Her voice trembled, wondering if he’d reply to her questions, if he’d even grace her with his sincere attention. (Y/n) could only watch the priest crouch down in front of her, cold hands reaching for her wrists, binding them together with his black rosary. Distracted by the emotions rushing through her like the river Johannes had baptised the holy Son in, (y/n) didn’t fight against the tight grasp, watching the man rise to his feet once again.

“Let me guide you, do as you’re told and you won’t suffer any longer.” His hands worked on his belt, undoing his black trousers to free his hard cock. (Y/n) no longer found the strength to breathe, she had imagined moments like these for nights on end, and yet she hadn’t thought that it would play out like this. With a fire burning in his eyes. With a devilish smirk tugging on his lips. Without taking no for an answer. “Open your mouth.”

She parted her lips, gasping in surprise as he pulled her closer with his hand finding her scalp, forcing his cock into her mouth. Tears welled up in (y/n)‘s eyes, tears glistening on her skin like the sun that had burnt Jesus’ skin, hanging on the wooden cross for all curious eyes to see. The priest didn’t hold back, he fucked her mouth as if she wasn’t gasping for air, forced his length further down her throat as if this was the only way to set her sins free.

His taste would forever stick to her muscle, a reminder of the dark act he was now pushing her through. Veins pulsed against her tongue, pumping blood through his cock to harden him even further. The moment felt almost rushed, perhaps the man wasn’t trying to overthink what he was doing, scared that God would call him out on the wrongs he was committing.

It was no secret that he was now committing a sin himself, using her position to his advantage, and yet neither (y/n) nor the priest seemed to worry about the what ifs and what may follow. His groans filled the church, louder than the drums of Hell, stronger than the archangels calling. A sin overpowering God’s creations, made to bite itself through his flesh.

“Atta girl, I knew you’d be all set on pleasing your priest, such a greedy mouth, you were made for me.” (Y/n) could only moan around him, sounds vibrating on his skin. Their eyes met - hers glassy, his piercing - the interaction forced him to retreat, at least for a moment. It seemed as if he was about to snap, as if her mouth no longer could satisfy his most primal needs. Without a warning, (y/n) was pulled to her feet, forced to face the wooden cross as her front met the altar.

A single “Amen” left her, wondering if anybody was listening and if they were, if they felt compassion for her.

The priest’s hand pushed her further down onto the wooden table before he ruffled her dress up to her waist. She still had her wrists tied together, hands interlaced as if she was praying to the Heavenly Father. And yet no prayer found itself overcoming her lips, no sounds rumbled through her - besides her moans and whimpers. The man took what he needed, he forced himself into her tightness, not giving her the chance to adjust.

“We will set the darkness inside of you free, you’ll return to the purest form of yourself.” His words did little to soothe the ache stretching itself through her tired body. No longer could she differentiate between right and wrong, no longer could she tell what her mind was trying to communicate. All (y/n) could do was stare at the cross, imagining the suffering Jesus had endured, pushed into darkness so the ones with a pure heart could live on.

“Please, I,” a sob clawed through her. A sob of pleasure, of confusion and of pain. “I’ve been good, I prayed, I ain’t no sinner.” But she was. The mere thoughts she had about the man of God have pushed her into Satan’s open arms, folding beneath his piercing eyes and the strong call. She wasn’t pure, wasn’t innocent, a woman falling for a man’s appearance, giving into the play of power.

She heard him spit into his hand, reaching around her waist to touch her sensitive bundle of nerves. His soft fingertips circled her clit, it had been the missing match to alight the cigarette one needed to set a gas station ablaze. The inferno taking down an entire town within minutes was now burning her flesh, leaving a reminder for weeks on end. Their bodies kept searching one another, cock pushed deeper and deeper into her.

There was no escaping, no chance to avoid the eventual release.

Her walls fluttered around him, clenching his cock to keep him close. Any moment now she’d let go, guided by her exhaustion, hoping that the priest would allow her to rest. The man’s pace began to falter, adding more strength to his thrust to push them both over the edge. A simple “Cum” left his parted lips, pushing (y/n) into the soaring waves of her orgasm.

The heavenly feeling swapped through her like the wine Jesus and his followers had poured down their throats, filling their every vein. Priest Ried fucked her through her high, allowing her to call out his name till her voice lost its strength. Only then did he give in, he pulled out of her before he imprinted himself on her behind, leaving his stain with a smirk tugging on his lips.

“You’ll never be innocent, nor shall God ever forgive you for lusting after a man made to spread His words. From now on you shall follow me, from now on you shall bow to my every command.”

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

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#Spencer Reid smut #little-diable priest #Spencer Reid imagine

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copiousloverofcopia · 1 year

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So....I know I said I wasn't going to work on any new chapter fics until I finished the other 3 I have going but fate decided otherwise.

Here is the first chapter to my new fic featuring Papa Emeritus I!

Potpourri

During his retirement, Papa Primo Emeritus falls in love with a new Sister of Sin who has suffered a tragic loss. While the new sister settles into the Abbey, Primo can't help but grow more infatuated with her. Promising to give her everything she desires, but can he win her affections when she still can't let go of the past?

Chapter 1: That Funny Feeling

Also available HERE on AO3!

NSFW due to triggers below the cut

*See trigger warnings in tags*

Three months ago...

She doubled over in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. Eyes heavy with the weight of grief, as the inevitable was well on its way to completion. Her hand fell over the small swell of her belly. Pain, now coming in sharp waves. Like an ocean of knives determined to take its pound of flesh.

Her knees hit the floor, hands wrapped around her middle and the sounds of her crying desperately trying to drown out the word and it sympathies. The blood continued dripping along the white bathroom tile. Calling attention to her loss as she heard their voices. Well intentioned words, conjured from unassuming lips, that echoed in her mind.

"Everything happens for a reason…"

"Some things are just not meant to be."

"God has a plan."

It was over before it began.

Present Day

It had been raining for weeks. The clouds squeezed for every last drop and the shining sun, refusing to come out from hiding. The morning downpour had turned into midday afternoon showers as Primo silently cursed Satanas for his aching joints. The weather changes, making him painfully aware of each passing moment spent in his mortal coil. A reminder that he was still somewhat human, unrelenting and bleak. He was getting older, a man now well into his sunset years and finally able to enjoy the well-earned spoils of his retirement from the Papacy.

It had taken decades for his father to release control. A long overdue ascension that had only come after years of fighting with the Ministry. A power now all but led by Sister Imperator, his father’s former lover. Primo had done his best, serving as Papa for many years before resurrecting the Ghost project.

It was not his choice but regardless he was successful. Ghost taking off in directions that only time would tell. A bright future for the Ministry burning like the fires of Hell that lay beyond Charon’s ride. When the time came however, Primo was more than happy to relinquish control to his brother Secondo. His reign, followed soon after by their other brothers Terzo and then Copia—the last of the Emeritus bloodline.

Primo was, for all intents and purposes, happy. The Ghost project, reaching new heights in Copia’s capable hands. Leaving Primo to spend his time how he truly preferred, among his plants and nature. Occasionally communing with the spiritual realm and preparing his weekly Black Mass as he lived out the rest of his days. His life, having been up to this point full.

Primo grew up wanting for nothing. His beloved mother, the last of the Prime Movers, had assured him a coveted education and apprenticeship with the finest necromancers, seers, and casters the Ministry could offer. He grew up with nobility in name, but his strength of character and his actions proved his right to the respect bestowed upon him. A respect shared by every congregant, sibling of sin, clergyman, and ghoul within the Ministry.

His happiest of days were spent raising his two younger brothers whose mothers had been unable and Nihil, incapable of raising by himself. He had hoped that his time now would be a return to solace and enrichment without the pressures of the Papacy. Something, however, had still felt unfulfilled. A gnawing in his stomach that told him a piece was still missing, one he might not ever obtain.

A thought buried deep inside his mind, hiding beneath the dirt and soil he worked so hard to till. The like seeds he planted tirelessly, for the sake of promised beauty. But for now, the rain still fell. Primo peered out the large parlor window of his quarters, sipping on his favorite herbal tea and watching as the old bus pulled up in front of the Abbey.

“Oh Lucifer, that's today?" he sighed, his thoughts recalling an all but forgotten meeting with the Clergy about receiving a set of fresh would-be siblings—now only capable sinners. Primo stood up from his chair, bone cracking as he went upright and headed out towards the main hall. He adjusted his collar and quickly smeared on his corpse paint before he left. While he would prefer to stay confined to his rooms on a day like today, it was expected of him to greet them.

Along with the other former living Papas, Primo would welcome them to the beginning of their new lives. One outside of God's watchful eye and held in darkness. He arrived downstairs just as they were filing out of the cabin. Terzo and Secondo, already waiting for them on the stairs. The two of them like hungry wolves, eyeing the group for their next bed mate.

“Another flock for which to shepard huh old man.” Terzo mused, a smile on his face as one of the women glanced his way. Ever the charismatic lover, Primo knew he’d make his way through the new recruits as fast as one takes to breath—his lust essential to his being.

“Ah si, but will you allow them to make it to their vows before having them singing praises to Asmodeus from your bed chambers fratellino?” Primo asked, clearing his throat as Terzo rolled his eyes. A typical gesture from the Third Emeritus son to be sure though Primo paid him no mind. While he loved him dearly Primo couldn't help but still see his younger brother as an obstinate child. Forever in pursuit of Lust above all things. Primo wondered how, despite his best efforts, his middle siblings turned out more like Nihil than either would care to admit.

It was times like this he missed Copia, who just happened to be on the first leg of rituals. His first tour as Papa, for which Primo was very proud. It had only been recently that he had learned of the former Cardinal’s parentage and despite their not having grown up together, Primo left just as close with Copia as he did the others. Maybe even more so, since they both shared a distinct distaste for Nihil that was like no other.

As the last of those from the bus had stepped off, the brothers were happy to welcome home Mr. Saltarian. The man in charge of bringing the group to the Abbey and Primo’s dearest old friend. As he approached the first Emeritus son smirked, “Well now…they just allow anyone to recruit new siblings during these times hmm.”

“Well we are surely in times of turmoil my friend and well someone has to do it, it might as well be me.” Saltarian chuckled, raising an eyebrow and throwing his arm around Primo. The two men, sharing a hug before Mr. Saltarian headed inside. Not but a moment later, he returned, this time with Sister Imperator in tow. She was looking especially severe. Her hair pulled back tight and working her favorite charcoal pantsuit and red heels as she walked carefully down the entryway stairs. She began clapping her hands as she reached the drive, trying to gain the crowd's attention before beginning to speak.

“Yes, attention. Welcome, welcome all Seminarians and Novitiate. I am Sister Imperator, the Abbess of this Abbey. Today we will settle you all into your dormitories with the other siblings. You will take the opportunity to rest and unpack. Tomorrow we begin your final training and preparations for full conversion. Now if you will please follow me.” she explained, everyone following her inside.

Primo watched and nodded as the crowd entered the Abbey. The would-be siblings were excited to see the Emeritus sons in person. Most of them, smiling and nodding in reverence as they passed by. It was during this time he caught a glimpse of her—a would-be sister hiding amongst them. Her face was soft, and round. Thick black lashes surrounding eyes of honey brown that matched the golden brown locks from her head. Soft curls that hit just at her waist, seeming to bounce a bit as she walked. The standard crimson and black robes of the tributes, adorned in gold Grucifix embroidery, fitting a bit tight against her ample bosom. A quiet and melancholic demeanor, which may have kept her overlooked from others, calling attention to Primo. Her pale delicate features and withdrawn appearance like a beacon against the smiles and conversations of those around her.

Primo was entranced. There was something about her that made him want to know more. A needy feeling gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. He felt drawn to her, her very soul seeming to be reaching out to him he thought when he was abruptly forced back into reality by a swat to the shoulder.

“Losing focus, fratello?” Secondo laughed, biting his lip as he contemplated his first moves with a number of the new recruits. His intensions worn openly as he practically fucked them with his eyes as they walked in.

“Hardly.” Primo responded as Mr. Saltarian went to stand beside him. “ Salare, who is that woman?” he asked him. Primo’s eyes, never leaving the woman in the crowd. Saltarian tried looking around attempting to see anything that stood out to him.

“You’re gonna have to be more descriptive than that.” he laughed. Primo pressed his lips together in annoyance as the woman that had captured his attention reached the doorway and disappeared inside.

“The one in the back with the longer hair, solemn looking and quiet?” he continued, hoping that would be enough for his friend to figure it out. Saltarian got quiet, nodding to him just before he spoke.

“That's Novitiate Guinevere. Most of the group calls her Gwen not that she really talks to anyone. She’s quiet that one Papa. Why do you ask?” Mr. Saltarian inquired.

“Oh…It is nothing…just a funny feeling.”

Notes:

Seminarian- Preist in training

Novitiate- Nun in training

Salare- Salt

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hativy · 2 years

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Hi! This is my first fic for my Harry Potter Next Gen AU called Tomorrow We’ll Be Legends. In this fic, Astoria and Draco goes to Euphemia Rowle and accidentally meet Delphi, in which they say “our child now” and Delphi becomes a Malfoy.

Word Count: 2.5k words

t/w: implied child neglect

title: there is a lady all in white, holds me and sings a lullaby

________________________________________

Ever since the moment Astoria said yes to a date with Draco Malfoy, everyone she’d known had said she was making a mistake.

They had scrunched their faces in disgust and tut, “oh, Astoria, haven’t you heard of the Malfoys? Disgraced, dark purists that got caught. Don’t go anywhere near them.”

Astoria didn’t listen to them. Because she met Draco Malfoy.

When she’d met Draco, he held the weight of the world on his shoulders like he was Atlas, repaying for his sins. His smiles were strained, his eyes full of regret. Even if he tried to hide it in the scowls he forced upon his face.

When Astoria said yes to a date with Draco Malfoy, he looked like he saw the beauty in the world all at once.

He took her to Muggle London, somewhere she thought purebloods of his type would never go. They walked through the streets and talked for hours, going into every store they found, then they went to get lunch and sat in a park and talked even more.

And what Astoria found is that Draco Malfoy, against all odds, was kind.

So she ignored every cruel word thrown her way for dating a Malfoy, every judging stare, every whispered word said behind her back.

Then he asked to marry her.

And once again, Astoria said yes to Draco Malfoy.

She never regretted it in her life.

She was happy and content, no matter what everyone else said about the Malfoys.

Although, maybe she really hadn’t realized the amount of shit the Malfoys had gotten into before Lucius Malfoy was arrested, she thought as she walked up to the house of Euphemia Rowle.

It was dark, made of old wood and ivy crawling up the sides of the house. When they entered the pathway to the house, she felt that suffocating tickle on the back of her neck that told her Dark Magic lingered on this house.

Draco said they were only here to get something of his fathers that he left with Ms. Rowle.

“I’ve never liked Euphemia, she was always obsessed with money and would do anything for it” Draco admitted as they were walking up to the house, “but hopefully we can avoid paying her and get out of here.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Astoria said sarcastically as he knocked on the door.

They waited, hearing shuffling from inside. Then the door swung wide, the hinges creaking. It opened to reveal aging blue eyes that lit up the moment they locked onto Draco.

“Draco, darling!” The woman exclaimed, grabbing his face excitedly.

“Hi, Euphem-URPHHH”, she scrunched up Draco's cheeks.

“I haven’t seen you since you were a wee little one! Oh, you look just like your mother, it’s almost unfortunate.”

Astoria couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of her at seeing Dracos’ disgruntled face. She tried to sneakily cover it up with a cough.

That only made Euphemia look towards her.

“Draco, dear, is this your lovely wife!” she let go of Draco's face with one last pat before she held her hand out to Astoria, “hello! I am Euphemia Rowle, it’s nice to meet you, Lady Malfoy!”

“Call me Astoria, please.” She said pleasantly, finally getting her mirth under control.

“Only if you call me Euphemia!”

Astoria smiled, this woman didn’t seem nearly as bad as Draco painted her out to be, but she remembered the tingle of Dark Magic on the back of her neck and reminded herself to still be wary, no matter how nice Euphemia was being.

“Okay, Euphemia.” She said good naturedly, hiding her inner thoughts.

Euphemia gave her a big smile in return and ushered them both inside, “now, come on in! Let’s sit down and chat.”

“Uh, actually,” Draco started, “we were hoping the discuss the book that my father let you barr—“

“Oh, Draco! Let’s catch up before we get to business.” Euphemia dismissed.

Draco sent Astoria a look of suffering that made her snort.

Euphemia's house was way nicer on the inside than the exterior. It was covered head to toe in nice things, the most expensive looking rugs, the oldest vases, and the nicest chandeliers.

She led the couple to the kitchen, which was as nice and wealthy as the rest of the house, and she put a pot of water on the stove.

Draco and Astoria sat down across from her as they waited for the tea.

“So, when did you get married? You’re both awfully young but to be fair, I never got married so I have no room to judg—”

Draco cut in, his voice filled with irritation, “Euphemia, I insist we talk about my fathers book.”

Euphemia sighed and sat down across from them.

“Straight to buinsess, just like you’re father.”

Draco stared at her.

“…Lucius’ book? Hmmm, let me remember, it was on Malfoy family history, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Ah, yes! He gave it to me when you were only but a little lad, I think it should be upstairs in the study, but before we go I insist we catch up and—“

Draco sighed, “No, Euphemia, I insist we go and get—“

Frrrrrrr! The tea kettle whistled, cutting off the argument.

Euphemia gave a tense smile, “I’ll get the tea.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Astoria exchanged a glance with Draco and stood up.

“I can go get it while you two talk.” She offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to, dear! It’s a bit of a mess up there.”

“No, it’s okay, I won’t judge—“

“No, you mustn’t—“

“No, I insist.” Draco cut in.

Euphemia clenched her jaw, “fine, it's up the stairs and the first door on the left. It’s somewhere on the bookshelf.”

Astoria smiled, “okay.”

She walked towards the stairs and called out, “be back in a second!” Then she made her way up.

The stairs were covered in velvet carpet and didn’t make a sound as she walked on the steps. Eventually, she got to the top and walked into the first door on the left, the floorboards creaked! as she stepped into the room to reveal a small study.

She walked to the bookshelf and searched through the titles. The shelf was filled with books on the darkest of magic. From necromancy to blood magic to studies on the unforgivable curses. Huh, no wonder the house reeks of dark magic.

Astoria spotted a book titled History of the Ancient House of Malfoy and perked up. She found it! She pick it up, it was covered in dust which she promptly brushed off then examined to see if there were any tears on the book then—

Creak!

She heard a small high pitched inhale behind her.

Astoria turned around.

She saw a child, a small skinny girl, with dark curly hair that looked unkempt and a ratty dress thrown on her.

The minute she met the girl's dark eyes, they widened and she took off back further into the hallway.

Well, Astoria couldn’t just see that and not be curious.

She took the book, stepped over the creaky floorboards, and then walked down the hallway to follow the girl.

The hallway was long and every door was shut, she couldn’t tell which room the girl went in. But she couldn’t give up. There was no record Euphemia Rowle had a child, and on top of that, the child didn’t look particularly cared for.

Astoria needed to find out if the child is okay.

She walked down the hallway until she got to the end and saw a door covered half by the Rowle family banner, Astoria moved it aside and quietly opened the door.

In the room, it was dark, there were no lamps, actually, there was nothing except a few blankets on the ground with a pillow positioned like a bed, with a few knickknacks and a beat up stuffed bunny toy.

Astoria realized it was the little girls room. And her stomach dropped as Astorias’ breath was stolen from her lungs.

When Astoria was the little girl's age, she convinced her parents to paint her room a bright blue. Her mum had laughed and her dad ruffled her hair then the next day her room was painted. She had shown her big sister Daphne who just had her room painted a minty green, and Daphne complimented her room and they went outside to play.

This little girl didn’t have that. Instead, she had this barren room and no one knowing she existed.

She slowly stepped out of the room and tried to look for the girl again.

Astoria listened as she quietly made her way down the hallway.

She stopped as she heard the caw of a bird and a small sob coming from the door on the right of her.

She turned the doorknob carefully and pushed the door open.

In it was a brightly lit room filled with rarities from all over the world put on soft cushions in glass boxes. In the center of the room is a bird cage containing a crying bird.

It was an Augurey, Astoria realized. She recognized the vulture-like bird with those distinct greenish black feathers from her dads book on magical creatures.

There was a myth that when an Augurey, they are foretelling death. But that was proven false and explained they only cry when they are predicting rain.

She heard another muffled sob.

Astoria crouched in front of the table containing the bird.

She saw the frightened face of the little girl.

“Hello there,” Astoria said softly.

The girl stared at her.

“I’m Astoria, it’s nice to meet you.”

She smiled gently at the girl.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

The two of them fell into silence as Astoria gave the girl an encouraging and patient look.

They sat in silence for several minutes, until finally—

“Euphemia said I'm not allowed to talk to anyone.” The girl said, her voice raspy as if she hasn’t used it often.

“Well you have to talk to someone, I’d go mad if I couldn’t talk to anyone.” Astoria replied jokingly.

The girl stared at her.

The Augurey cried louder.

The girl flinched and huddled in on herself.

“Hey it’s okay.” Astoria tried to soothe.

The girl shook her head, “no it’s not,” tears filled her eyes, “Euphemia said it cries because of me. She said the bird knows I'm going to meet a ‘sticky end’.”

Astoria blinked.

Huh. Euphemia Rowle just keeps getting worse and worse.

“That’s not true,” she murmured gently, “these kinds of birds, like the one right here, can only predict rain, you’re not gonna meet a ‘sticky end’.”

The girl frowned, “but Euphemia said—“

“Euphemia was wrong.” Astoria said kindly.

The girl went quiet.

“You are going to live a good life where you make friends and have fun and paint your room bright colors. You can talk to anyone you like and you don’t have to hide.”

As Astoria said this the girl looked at her like she was experiencing hope for the first time in her life.

“What’s your name, love?” She asked again.

“Delphini,” the girl—Delphini whispered.

“Delphini,” Astoria repeated with a smile, “that’s a lovely name.”

Delphini gave her a small smile back. She had two little dimples and her skinny malnourished face seemed to light up.

Astoria liked seeing her like that. She liked seeing the little girl happy.

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

“Hey, how much do you like Euphemia?” She asked Delphini.

The girl frowned.

“She doesn’t like me very much, she always tells me the only reason she took me in was ‘for the galleons’” Delphini answered gloomily.

“Well,” Astoria said slowly, “how would you like to come with me?”

“You mean it?” Delphini asked hesitantly.

She nodded and gave the girl another smile.

In Astorias’ heart, this felt right. Draco would understand once she told him.

She held her hand out to Delphini, who took it with a soft smile on her face as she stared up at Astoria.

“Okay here’s the plan, let’s sneak down the stairs and we get you to stand outside on the porch as I get my husband then we’ll make a break for it, okay?” She whispered.

Delphini nodded.

The two of them sneaked down the stairs, Astoria listened carefully to the voices of her husband and Euphemia as she quickly opened the front door and Delphini slipped out.

Astoria walked back into the kitchen and exclaimed cheerily, “I got the book.”

She walked in to Draco looking like he swallowed a lemon and Euphemia saying, “—Lucius was so handsome when we were at Hogwarts, if it wasn’t for that Narcissa Black I would’ve been your mother and we would’ve lived in such luxury and—“

“Astoria, dear” Draco interrupted and stood up, “you have the book? That’s great, let's get going shall we?”

He walked towards her urgently and shot Astoria a look that clearly said I have been suffering sitting here, Merlin, can we leave now?

“Yes! We should be going, thank you so much Euphemia for hosting us it's been lovely—“

“Oh, you don’t have to rush out—“ Euphemia insisted.

“We really do have to,” Astoria replied politely as she handed the book to Draco, “we are supposed to have dinner with my sister and her husband this evening so we really ought to go. Your upstairs is lovely by the way.”

“Okay, only if you’re sure. And sorry if you’ve heard some noises upstairs, I’ve been having a rat infestation I've been working on getting rid of.”

She smiled, “I heard nothing, it was lovely up there.”

Astoria linked her arm with Draco and they made their way towards the door, “now we must go, we should all reconnect again!”

“Yes we should—“ Euphemia started but Astoria couldn’t hear the rest as she rushed out of the front door.

“I hate that woman so much, I swear—“ Draco started to mutter.

“Shhhh! There’s a child here.” Astoria replied as she spotted Delphini waving at her from the side of the porch.

She waved back.

“What—“ Draco looked where she was waving, “that is a child.”

Astoria started to drag him towards the girl.

“Yes, this is Delphini, she’s going to be with us for a little while.”

When they went to Delphini, she tucked herself into Astorias side and looked up at Draco with her big dark eyes.

He blinked.

“How did you get a child?”

“How did Euphemia Rowle get a child, is the bigger question,” Astoria said.

Draco gaped, “Wait, what—“

“So, Delphini, this is Draco, he’s my husband. Draco, this is Delphini.”

Delphini and Draco stared at each other.

“Hello, nice to meet you.” Draco finally said, awkwardly but also a little timidly.

Delphini waved at him.

“Okay!” Astoria said joyously as Delphini grabbed for her hand, “let’s get going home, shall we?”

Draco sighed and followed them back down the path as raindrops started to fall on their heads.

#harry potter next gen headcanon #harry potter next gen fic #harry potter next generation #harry potter #draco malfoy #astoria greengrass #astoria malfoy #delphini riddle #delphi riddle #delphi #cursed child #tomorrow we’ll be legends #harry potter and the cursed child #drastoria #euphemia rowle

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ariesbilly · 2 years

Note

I would love fics Rec for FP n Fred pls!

yes!! okay 😊

from @fredheads:

fp's adventures in domesticity (T) - Fred's a professional when it comes to stretching himself thin, can usually make ends meet even when the rope's falling apart. But Fred can't run a household and recover from a gunshot wound at the same time, especially with both Archie and Jughead living there. That's where FP comes in.

you could justify sin (NR) - Fred Andrews was in middle school when he finally worked up the courage to do the right thing.

it breaks me in to stay alive (T) - fred in treatment for an eating disorder and fp being a supportive boyfriend

everybody's got a hungry heart (M) - Fred’s starving, and gobbles half of his plate in record time, using the crust of his bread to mop at the extra sauce. The dish is comforting somehow, the taste reminding him of his own childhood, his mother’s dinners. “I’ve missed this,” says FP casually, staring anywhere but Fred’s face. He speaks gruffly, but his fingers have been anxiously shredding the corner of his napkin into snow. “You and me.” Date? or not a date? He moves his fork a bit to the left. FP’s eyes follow it. Date, thinks Fred, with a swoop of panic, stuffing another mouthful past his lips to disguise his uncertainty. Date, date, date.

from @halcooper:

just won't quit (NR) - Fred Andrews never gets sick. Especially not during basketball tryouts. Especially not when his folks are out of town. or FP Jones spends his afternoon trying to get a delirious Fred Andrews home and tucked into bed.

from me :)

seventeen and coming clean for the first time (T) - It’s not until FP catches his breath that he realizes how silent the room has become. There’s a tension he hadn’t picked up on, but now that he has it’s so thick he’s practically choking on it. Reality slowly starts to crash in on him as his eyes roam up his father’s body to meet his own. They’re both at a standstill. Senior seems to be in a state of shock, like he’s trying to process what the hell just happened. FP’s just trying to figure out what play to make as the weight of what he’s just revealed finally dawns on him. It’s almost a game of chicken. And then…

show me what i'm looking for (T) - ”I don’t think I can go through with this,” is what Fred had told him less than 24 hours after being the one to ask FP to marry him in the first place.

it was me and you and the whole town under water (T) - the missing fredsythe storyline from 308 we all needed

all the best djs are saving their slowest songs for last (T) - Fred had always figured he’d chaperone his son’s senior prom. It’s just what he did. Went to every dance, every field trip, every PTA meeting… He was involved. It’s just… He also kind of assumed his wife would be there with him. Even after the divorce he still figured they’d go as friends. Never in a million years did he think he’d be dating his ex… whatever they were in high school.

and then some from miscellaneous authors who i am not in a group chat with lmao

The Shaggin' Wagon (E) - With college on the horizon, Fred Andrews and FP Jones fix up a van before taking it on a trip together, up into the mountains where it feels like they're the only two people on earth. It doesn't take long before the feelings that have been growing between them get too strong to ignore...

song for the last act (T) - fred and fp during their last week of high school

Where the Wild Rain Falls (M) - A storm comes in on the night of the parent-teacher conferences at Riverdale High.

stages of healing (T) - FP’s hands have been scarred for as long as Fred can remember.

#i wanted to stick to more strictly fredsythe fics and not fredsythe + everyone else just in case #so kim please do not feel bad i only have one fic from you in here lmao #fredsythe #fred andrews #fp jones #love giving out fredsythe/parentdale recs cuz the fandom is me and my 3 friends lmao #briana answers things

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hopeswriting · 2 years

Note

don’t you dare die for us and The Shimon's Retribution for the ask game? aah i'm so happy ur doing this lol i am always curious whatcha up to writing wise hahah i just like your stuff a whole lot owo

thank you so much! 🥰❤ and thank you for the ask! <3

don’t you dare die for us

[Plain text: "don’t you dare die for us" in bold. /End PT]

i already answered this one here!

The Shimon's Retribution

[Plain text: "The Shimon's Retribution" in bold. /End PT]

this one is a role swap au, so it's actually not about the shimon (tho i'd love to try my hand at writing them one day)! it's inspired by @ indigosprite role swap au, and i went with the same role swap they came up with, focusing on the arco -> shimon one, because this one really got me going haha.

and of course because the arco are very different people from the shimon, the fic goes quite a bit differently than the canonical shimon arc, even if i use it as a basis for it. it's a dark fic, though with a happy ending for the shimon. do with that what you will lol.

unfortunately this one is typically one of those fics where i'm just being lazy with, even when i already know exactly how it'll go lol. it's also one where i thought it'd be around 2k give or take, 4k at most, and i could write it in one sitting, so i tried to do just that, but then of course almost 2k in and the fic has barely started zaedsfgvj. 😂😭 so i'm being especially lazy with this one, but i like the idea a lot and i have no doubt i'll get around to finish it eventually!

here's the summary:

The Shimon have been bearing the Vongola’s Sin on their shoulders every second of their life, have been paying the cost of it with their own blood, dying one by one under its weight. They’ll make Vongola atone, but they won’t settle for anything less than absolute and unforgiving expiation.

In which the Arcobaleno are the Shimon, and their retribution was never going to spare even the innocent ones.

[No one has ever spared them.]

as well as a little snippet:

It's a sunny day for a funeral, the sky blue and cloudless, the air light and pleasant even with no wind, but they've already had so much more funerals than it exists type of weathers. Luce stands in front of the freshly buried coffins alone, the rest of them respectfully lined up behind her, no direct family left to stand by her side and give her comfort. She buries all fourth of them today, her mother and father, as well as her younger sister and her would-have-been youngest sister who was still in her mother's womb.

Reborn would feel particularly disgusted at that, revolted, hateful, but they've crossed that line long ago, and it's just another particularly bad day in the Shimon's history.

[ask game]

#ask games #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr arcobaleno #khr wip #scprpip

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mrfancyfoot · 2 years

Text

Getting to know Evie from my Obey Me fic Community Magic! Drawn in her everyday clothes here. I’ll do her RAD uniform at some point. Inari (her Fox demon dad) is now posted here!

This template is from @hyper-super-clover’s post here, and then a bit of one by @fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper (that I’m going to build out in another post).

Name: Evie Race: Demon [x] Angel [ ] Human [x] Other [x] Mother was a Human Witch, father is a Fox Demon (Inari), born from a blood gift from an unknown Nereid. Age: 29 Birthday: April 30 Height: 5'4 This puts her at a few inches taller than Luke.

Fingernail polish color: Daily wear: None Formal Wear: Gold

Eye Color: Amethyst Hair color/description: Auburn; medium; right side of her head is shorn very short. When working, she plaits it and wraps it into a bun.

Sin(s) they're most guilty of: Wrath, Sloth Sin(s) they're least guilty of: Envy, Pride

Brother(s) they get along best with: Asmo, Beel Brother(s) they get along least with: Belphie, Lucifer

Love interests: Becomes involved with Barbatos and Diavolo, but has a short-lived crush on Simeon for awhile after first being brought to the Demon Realm as an exchange student.

Favourite subject at RAD: Music of the Devildom Least favourite subject at RAD: Any class she gets stuck in with Solomon

Their favourite surprise guest food: Devilbear Choco Crisps description: Crunchy, bear-shaped crisps filled with chocolate nougat. Her dad used to bring these for her whenever he’d visit her from the Demon Realm when she was little.

A surprise guest item they like: Heavy blanket description: Soft and well weighted, a great blanket to keep warm, improve sleep, and soothe anxieties.

What would their Devilgram name be? Mammon sets up her Devilgram as ‘sweetEV’

Their favourite place(s) to work at :D Jobs? The Royal Library

A connection error message about them: Evie ‘hacked’ into the router using the unchanged default password (that she has since changed) and activated the parental control locks to selectively shut off the wifi for everyone else. Connection will be restored when her mood improves or Levi resets it.

#Obey Me #OC #community magic #mrfancyfoot #Evie

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2jaeh · 3 years

Text

Country Club | Kim Doyoung

Genre: smut , daddy

Warnings: dilf! Doyoung, uni! Reader, RichAU,

Praise kink!, public, just DY being a hot rich dad tbh.

WORD COUNT: 2,9K

Author! SIN

Your father invited a friend to join you for your Saturday morning golf game, the catch was his friend and you have a very dirty secret.

A/N: admin SIN here! Sorry I’ve been IA, I’ve had so many commissions and I’m still working on the freaks prequel and another Yuta fic (help), so here’s a little smutty DY fic while y’all wait !

TAGS: @infnteen 🖤 thanks for the cute msg!

——————————————————————————

It was a cool morning and the smell of the wet freshly cut grass signaled the first rain of spring. You were up in your room, taking a break from university, and you found yourself longing for the Mountain View’s of the country club.

Thankfully mom and dad were aching to host a spring party for their friends and you were able to tag along with them to your summer vacation home. It had been awhile since you’d been here, and the last time you set foot on these grounds you were almost in trouble.

Almost.

“Sweetheart dont you think the gardens look absolutely ravishing today” your mom marveled as you made your way downstairs in a white mini tennis skirt and a sky blue golf shirt.

“Absolutely mother” you smiled and placed kiss on her forehead before grabbing the pitcher of lemonade and poured yourself a glass. You stood in front of the clear glass sliding doors watching your father pace the lawn probably talking to a work friend on his phone.

“Mother I thought we were going to the golf course today, he’s not planning on working is he ?” You pouted, stuffing a blueberry muffin into your mouth.

“Your father will never miss a golf session dear” your mother chuckled, “just get your things together sweety your dad will be with you shortly.”

Sighing you downed the last of the lemonade and went to the shoe rack to find your white tennis shoes and asked one of the estates employees to load your golf bag into the golf cart.

Shortly after, your dad followed, a huge smile spread across his face as he noticed your cheeky pout obviously knowing what mood you were in.

“I’m sorry hun but work called, those varsity tuition isn’t going to pay itself now is it ?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and slipped into the golf carts driver seat and patted the seat next to you,

“Ok fine but I’m driving.”

The two of you made your way down the courtyard and into the country club’s entrance. The gravel road was covered by huge oak trees, placed strategically along the sides leading to the huge mansion at the end.

Your father directed you to the golf course and one of the gates men welcomed you in before all you saw in front of you was the bright green golf course.

“I’m feeling lucky today hun, I can feel it” your dad squeezed his fist while you let out a chuckle, “easy there Tiger Woods”

“Well I’m definitely going to beat Doyoung that’s for sure”

“Doyoung ?” Saying his name already brought you a flash of memories.

“Yeah you remember my work buddy Mr Kim right ? He’s here helping out with the party, he brought over his sons too” your dad spoke as you pulled up to the first hole.

“What about his....wife ?” You swallowed, as your mind raced back to last year’s Christmas lunch.

First and fur-most Kim Doyoung was the hottest dad at the country club. He was still quite young in comparison to the other fathers thanks to his choices of getting hitched way too early. Most people would describe him as helpful, responsible the kind of guy who genuinely helped out the people around him.

But you knew a very different side to him.

It was the evening of the lunch that you and a friend had snuck outside for a smoke, knowing your fathers would be tremendously upset with that action for their little girls. After your friend ran off to God knows where, Doyoung had emerged and the look on his face as he watched you drag in that cigarette was...something.

“You’re such a naughty girl y/n disobeying daddy like this” he said in a silky voice, taking the cigarette with his slender fingers and placing it to his own mouth.

You watched him in awe, pulling in that cigarette and exhale the smoke up into the sky like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Please don’t tell my dad Mr Kim” you had said in a high tone, surprising yourself at the hint of desperation in your voice.

“Don’t worry it will be our little secret love” Doyoung winked taking in another drag but this time he grabbed your chin and blew the smoke into your mouth. It felt intoxicating. But a sudden call from his wife had pulled you out of your fantasy and he disappeared, not seeing him since then.

Until now ofcourse.

“Oh your mother didn’t tell you ? Doyoung and Hani are divorced now, yeah she took off with some model and left him with the kids” your dad shrugged and greeted the caddy waiting on the course for him.

“Oh I see” you responded, placing a baseball cap on your head and watched your father tee off.

It wasn’t long until you heard another golf cart behind you as you began setting up your shot, wanting to look back desperately.

“Kim Doyoung” your father bellowed as you took your shot and turned around to meet your guests.

You noticed Doyoung had brought both his sons, Jeno a guy somewhat around your age and his little brother Jisung. It was quite surprising to see them outside when you knew they preferred to stay couped up in their bedrooms playing video games.

“Hey y/n, I didn’t know you’d be here too” Jeno shyly waved while Jisung inspected a golf club.

“Yeah I’m on spring break, so I decided to spend a bit of it here” you replied, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Doyoung smiled at you innocently and held out his hand, “it’s good to have you back y/n” he said as you took his hand and nodded shyly. Doyoung returned to his conversation with your father and all you could do was stare at how gorgeous he looked today.

Dressed in white slacks, a navy blue polo shirt and black rimmed glasses, girls your age may not understand your desires but to you Doyoung was incredibly sexy to say the least.

He was well built too, his wide shoulders and small waist gave him a swimmer physique, it was all too tempting to know what he looked like underneath his attire.

“How about we mix the teams, you and y/n versus Jeno and I ?” Your dad suggested and Doyoung looked over at you briefly and smiled,

“You got yourself a deal, winner gets that Sauvignon Blanc you’ve been hoarding in your cellar” Doyoung chuckled and set up his ball for his shot.

You tried not to stare but God was it hard. You watched as his eyes narrowed on his target and his dark hair waved as he swung. Doyoung twisted his body posing as he watched his almost perfect swing lead his ball closer it’s target.

“Jeno get ya head in the game boy” your father grumbled as Jeno found himself lost in a game on his phone.

Jisung snickered as Jeno sighed and removed himself from his game to join the one he was supposed to be playing in reality. You could already tell that your competitive father immediately regretted his decision of swopping teams when Jeno’s swing only had the ball drop just a few feet away from him.

“I mean, that was a hit alright” You stifled a laughter.

“I’m not used to these golf clubs!” Jeno whined as his father tapped him on his shoulder, “A good player never blames the equipment son, y/n let’s head over to the hole shall we ?” Doyoung said jumping into his cart.

“Are we not waiting until we’re done ?” Your father grumbled still watching Jeno struggle with his form.

“Seems like we’ll be here all night if one team doesn’t get a move on” Doyoung pressed his lips together, hiding the smug smile that was beginning to form on his face,

“The caddy’s will make sure we’re not...cheating, let’s go win this y/n.”

You hugged your sulking father and hopped in the golf cart next to Doyoung, keeping your eyes on the path ahead of you.

From time to time you found yourself staring over at him, taking in that side profile as he casually maneuvered the vehicle over the greenery until you arrived at your destination.

“Shall we ?” Doyoung said, wetting his bottom lip with tongue and placed his cold hand on your exposed thigh.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, much like that night with the cigarette. You wanted more, you wanted to test just how far you could go.

And knowing that sneaking around in secret like this only made it more exciting.

“It’s going to be pretty easy to sink this” you pouted as you noticed your ball was just mere centimeters away from the first hole.

“You sound disappointed” Doyoung raised an eyebrow as he watched you set up your shot.

“We’re going to be quite far ahead of them”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing”

You looked up at Doyoung who causally waited aside, watching you line up your shot. He wasn’t going to say it just yet, but he was definitely enjoying the view.

Sucking in a deep breath you hit the ball, but missed the target completely and felt your cheeks heat up when Doyoung lightly chuckled.

“Your form is correct you just hit it way too hard, here let me help you”

Doyoung dropped his club and made his way over to you as you got into position for your shot. Your breathing hitched when he stood behind you, a hand placed around your waist and the other on top of yours on the golf club.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck as he pulled your hips against his, bending you slightly over to feel a little more of you.

Your eyes fluttered up to where the caddy was, nervous that he’d feel some type away about this interaction but he was too invested in his phone to care.

“He’s not going to say or do anything, trust me” Doyoung whispered into your ear as you felt his hand tighten around your waist and pull your ass even closer to his crotch.

“Like this ?” You pushed your ass up to grind up against him, satisfied when you heard a small moan escape his lips.

You hit the ball and watched it sink into the hole in satisfaction. Doyoung pulled away from your body and clapped at your victory,

“Well done love” he praised and it made you rub your thighs together. You don’t know why but hearing him praise you made you so wet, all you wanted to do was be his good girl.

Doyoung’s turn was next and he easily sunk in his shot and before you knew it you two were already on your way to the next hole.

This time in the drive Doyoung had one hand on your thigh, squeezing lightly as he drove through the course casually. Finally pulling up to the next hole, you immediately got into position to tee off,

“Am I doing it right ?” You pouted back at Doyoung who stood a distance as he downed a bottle of water.

“You got this love, hey I’ll tell you what” Doyoung ran his fingers through his hair and unbuttoned the first button of his Ralph Lauren polo shirt,

“If you get this in with Atleast three shots I’ll give you a reward.”

You swallowed hard, your mind buzzing with what the reward could be. Shaking your head that was filled with fantasies you took your shot, surprised that it was a pretty decent one at that.

“Well done love, you must really want that reward” Doyoung mused, his small praises driving you into a frenzy once again.

Doyoung quickly took yet another perfect shot and the two of you hopped in the cart headed for the final stretch of the play.

Again not wasting anytime you took your shot and managed to complete the round in just two shots, immediately turning to Doyoung and gave him a dashing smile.

“Wow love, you did beautifully” he praised, coming over to stroke your back and sent your thoughts into overdrive,

“Let me finish up here and we can sort that reward out” Doyoung’s voice was filled with mischief.

Just like he said Doyoung finished his round quite quickly and went over to the caddy whispering to him before heading back to you in the cart.

“What did you tell him ?” You asked as Doyoung started the ignition and began driving on a slightly different, more secluded path.

“Told him not to follow us, and just meet us at the next hole” Doyoung pressed his lips together and you watched his eyes search for a spot that was hidden from passerby’s.

Doyoung stopped the engine and jumped out of the cart, quickly pulling you out and leaned your back against the hood of the golf cart. His eyes were dark and a smirk grew on his face as his fingers brushed against your cheek, over your chest and eventually landed on your thigh.

“You love to praised y/n, I’ve taken notice of that” he hummed and his fingers separated your legs slightly as it moved higher up your skirt.

“I want you to know how good I am” you fluttered your lashes at him, leaning back into the hood and licked your lips.

“You think you’re good ?” Doyoung chuckled darkly as his finger grazed your soaked underwear, “I think you’re a bad girl y/n, just so fucking bad.”

You bit down on your lip as Doyoung pushed your underwear to the side and pushed his index finger into your core. You threw your head back as Doyoung slowly fingered you, bringing his mouth to you jaw and kissed you gently.

“But you know a promise is a promise and you deserve your reward” Doyoung responded by inserting two more fingers in you, quickly using his free hand to cover your mouth before you moaned.

“I’m good...daddy”

Doyoung’s ears perked at the nickname and responded by moving his fingers even faster, pushing his large frame into yours as you began chasing your orgasm.

Just as you were about to come undone Doyoung removed his fingers and wiped your wetness on your skirt before pulling you into a hot and sloppy kiss.

“If you think you’re a good girl, how about doing something about this huh” Doyoung growled into your ear and grabbed your hand, placing it over his hardened member.

You immediately slipped down to your knees and unbuckled his pants, waiting to please him. Doyoung freed his member and looked down as you took him into your mouth, making sure every inch of him entered before slowly sucking him off.

“Fuck...that feels so good, you’re doing so good my love” he sighed, throwing your cap aside and grabbed tufts of your hair as you sucked him off in the middle of the country club golf course.

Doyoung began thrusting into your mouth until you felt him hit the back of your throat and he came undone, feeling every bit of him slide down your throat.

Doyoung brought you up and swiped his thumb across your lips before inserting it into your mouth while you sucked on it gently.

“You’re right, you’re such a good girl” he praised and began rubbing his member in between your thighs as you felt him slowly grow hard once more.

“Do I get a reward again daddy ?” You placed your manicured hands on his chest and looked up at him with barely innocent eyes.

“Ofcourse, anything for you my love” Doyoung mused and spun you around, bending you over the golf cart and dropped your panties down to your knees.

Doyoung pushed his member into your core and slipped a hand in front between your legs to stimulate you while he fucked you senseless. He placed a hand over your mouth once more, the last thing he needed was your father or his own damn kids walking in on this.

But he wanted to feel as much of you as he could and removed the hand from your mouth and slipped it under your shirt, giving your breast a squeeze.

“Don’t you dare make a sound my love, or else I’ll stop” Doyoung grunted as he heard your soft whimpers in his ear.

Doyoung felt himself getting closer again and pulled out, leading you to the seats of the cart and propped you up on it and entered you again. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you felt him twitch inside of you. Grabbing onto the seats for support you nodded at him, signaling that you too were close and Doyoung sped up until you came all over his member and he pulled out waiting for your mouth to return to his tip.

“Take it all in again my love, you’re such a good girl” he groaned, biting down on his lips and your mouth wrapped around him once more and felt his liquid run down your throat for the second time that day.

You finally cleaned up and Doyoung neatened himself before texting the caddy that the two of you were on your way.

“What’s the next reward daddy ?” You raised your eyebrow at him as you watched a smug smile spread across his face as he drove,

“Well after this game is over and you get yourself cleaned up, how about meeting for another reward daddys room ?”

#Doyoung smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 #2jaeh masterlist #nct angst #nct imagines #nct drabble #nct au #Doyoung fic #doyoung scenarios #nct doyoung smut #nct dilf #kpop smut #kim dongyoung

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bollur · 2 years

Note

I live for your Percy angst, could you do Percy angst with Orthrax? This duo make perfect angst fics imo Thank you and have a good day :)

a/n: didn't exactly make this a reader-insert. it kind of is, but kind of isn't. not sure if that's what you wanted. but i came up with some kind of angst. idk WHAT it is. but it's here.

we can thank achillies come down by gang of youths for the fucking dialogue. i tweaked it a bit, but lmaoo.

i hope you like it, love.

★⌒ヽ( ͡° ε ͡°)♥

Bearing the weight of the devil himself was lethally shared upon each shoulder, promising the path of an unavoidable demise. A fire raged in the forge, heat licking at his skin in preparation for the insufferable afterlife undoubtedly awaiting at the end of the paths he had chosen to walk.

Dim lights illuminated shadows that danced along stone walls, taunting yet enticing him to sink his teeth into the succulent fruits of their sin, and among the call of the sirens, he caught the sharp glint off identical rings of glass. Feebly he sunk to the floor, head hanging low, curling into his knees as a naive attempt to protect himself. Lashes fluttered and his body tremored from the intensity his muscles clenched, finger bruising into his skull.

Conceptually, time was abstract with unintelligible susurration flowing thick around him. A bitterness gnawed at his neck and the desire to claw at his skin followed as twin embers peered unmistakenly at him, a sickening grin of black smog dripping with a hiss to the cold floor. "So self-indulgent and self-referential - your act is a ruse." came an eloquent echo, twistingly a mimick of his own, a distorted mirror-image before his eyes. "It's a pointless resistance for you, so end it all now."

Soothing and innocent, like a dove fluttering its wings in the morning sun, a hand rested upon his chest. "It's chaos, confusion, and wholly unworthy," His attention chimed away, for a moment. "So don't listen to what you've consumed."

"Be real," a laugh entirely cruel, working to erode the remainder of his demoralized mind. "You dense motherfucker." Percival's lungs over-flowed, the urge to scream and fight, to break the surface from the waste he was drowning under. "You're worth no more than a rat in a gutter."

"That's all just conjecture and gloom." Innocently, he opted in an attempt to hide from such assault in the warmth flushing his skin with soft caresses, gaining distance into clearer waters. "Worth so much more than a rat, you will heal and you'll rise above."

Latching to his hair, claws stilled him in-between, a painful choke escaped his lips. "This is our opinion," it seethed, burns littering where its breath fanned along his skin. "These are our thoughts."

"No one asked for that opinion," warmth entangled him, the softness of a summer breeze, along his shoulder blades and his chest, coaxing him back in an eternal tug of war. "You didn't ask for these thoughts," the murmur brought his parched soul a drink of peace, lips skimming across his temple.

A dark appendage gripped his chin and began pulling his head to the side, the other mirroring the pressure. Both voices spoke, pulling and yanking, one fiendish and demanding, the other compassionate and apprehensive. "Be done with this now - can you hear me?"

His mouth fell wide in an inaudible scream, head falling backward as he felt himself being torn in two, eyes wide with terror and tears. "I'm talking to you." he could see it, cacodemon, hellfire burning behind its eyes, the taste of brimstone and black smoke billowing from his mouth. Percival felt himself consumed, eyes slowly falling, sunken, too tired to continue to fight this endless battle.

"I'm talking to you," multiple mirages broke through the pitch vapor, tenderly cupping his cheeks and holding the weight of his head with no shame - his family, friends, burst before his eyes in ethereal colors; Vex'ahlia, Vax'ildan, Scanlan, Keyleth, Grog, Pike, his mother, father, siblings, … and you.

Tears flowed unabashedly as Percy gasped, delicious air filling his lungs, able to breathe in a pure experience unlike any other. Instinctively he reached out to grasp you, failing to steady himself as he continued through you who began to dissipate before his eyes.

"Do not waste yourself, Percival."

#percy de rolo #percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #percival de rolo #the legend of vox machina #vox machina x reader #critical role x reader #percival de rolo x reader #percy de rolo x reader #percy x reader #percival x reader

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achubbydumpling · 2 years

Text

All pairings are James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers unless otherwise indicated and everything should be in the order it was posted.

Last updated: 08.03.2024

❗ Additional Warnings

☁ No Feedism

Fics

☁ getting help takes courage too — The serum encourages cell growth which leads to injuries healing faster. However, this also increases the chance of mutations and abnormal growth. Written for Stucky Week 2021. ❗ Angst, Mentions of Cancer, Chronic Pain (AO3)

☁ Weeping Willows (Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski) — When Derek is in danger of dying from blood loss, Stiles asks the Nemeton for help. Their peace doesn't last long. The Nemeton asks for a favour in return. (AO3)

Supernatural Chubby!Kink Priest AU [More Priest AU] (Dean Winchester/Castiel) — Father Castiel had found the boy sleeping in a car parked in the lot behind the church.

Coach Tucker At The Olympics (Steve Rogers/Lance Tucker) — After taking a position coaching the US women's gymnastics team, Lance Tucker may have put on a few pounds. Coach Rogers may have noticed. (AO3)

Sweet As Pie, Hot As Sin (Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester) — Prompt: Baker!Sam makes a pie for Dean every day for a year. Just for practice — perfecting his pastry recipe, that’s all. Honestly, that’s the only reason — it’s not because he likes the way Dean’s shirts and jeans tighten or anything. (AO3)

Post-Game Show — Before heading onto the field Steve handed his already chubby boyfriend a plate of burgers to eat during the game. Of course, Bucky eats them all and now Steve has to rub his poor, stuffed belly. (AO3)

Dance With Me (James “Bucky” Barnes/gender neutral!Reader) — Request: heyy!! was wondering if you could make a super chubby bucky x reader!!! like super chubby bucky has been gaining a lot of weight and the reader absolutely loves this new bucky and gives him lots of pleasure? with a lot of smut:)) (AO3)

Oct 1: Pumpkin and Spice and Everything Nice — Steve and Bucky are retired from the superhero business, but Steve needs a bit of time (and a lot of pumpkin-based baked goods) to settle down. (AO3)

Office AU [Part 2] Oct 2: Binges and Bellyaches — Consider this: slightly chubby office worker bucky and lean, muscular steve who has a huge crush on him. (AO3)

Oct 3: Masks and Malfunctions [Part 2] Get Beached: The Buffet— Modern Bucky is fat and Steve’s sugar baby. (AO3)

Oct 5: Tricks and Treats — Fluff, fluff, fluffy fluff. Some domestic boys annoying each other, watching a movie, eating sweets and making out. (AO3)

Oct 6: Maple Madness (Stucky/fem!Reader) — I took a left turn and ended up on the wiki page for Pando. Yes, a giant colony of aspens, except here Steve and Bucky are a sentient maple forest. ❗ Dark Fic, Force Feeding, Physical Restraints (this fic is pretty out there don’t say I didn’t warn you) (AO3)

Oct 7: Fairs, Food, and Fun — Bucky enjoys a variety of fair food. (AO3)

Oct 8: Curses and Spells — 100 words about magical weight gain. (AO3)

Oct 10: Hayrides and Harvests — Steve and Bucky go on a hayride and Bucky figures out Steve actually likes the weight he’s gained. (AO3)

Oct 11: Preparing For The Holidays — After going for that hayride Bucky starts actively gaining weight, Steve worries Bucky doesn’t enjoy stuffing himself. (AO3)

☁ Side by Side And Hand In Hand — A morning in Steve and Bucky's life in the 1930s. (AO3)

Sweet Rewards — (Nick Fowler/genderneutral!Reader) Nick has been enjoying his retired life, but a new neighbour brings exciting changes to his life and his waistline. (AO3)

☁ What A Waste Of A Lovely Night — (Lee Bodecker/Original Female Character) Lee thinks the nice waitress at the diner would be a wonderful mother to his offspring. Too bad she already has a fiancé. ❗ Dark fic, non-con (AO3)

Fat Camp AU — Bucky finally moves in with Steve and enjoys a quiet day alone in their shared flat. (AO3)

Get Beached 2021 Masterlist

Get Beached 2022 Masterlist

12 Days of Chubmas 2022 Masterlist

Asks

"Fat!Bucky in pretty red lingerie" [Part 2]

"Bucky with big tibbies 🥺" ❗ Extreme Weight Gain, Superchub!Bucky

**"Big belly Bucky?" ❗ Extreme Weight Gain, Superchub!Bucky

**"Bottom heavy bucky" [Part 2] [Part 3] ❗ Extreme Weight Gain, Superchub!Bucky

Seb Holiday Pictures ❗ RPF

Dad Bod Andy/Reader and Chubby Ransom/Reader [Part 2]

**Dad Bod Andy/Ransom [Part 2] ❗ Feminization

"Streamer Steve/Ceo Bucky" [Part 2]

Andy Barber/Ransom Drysdale/TJ Hammond (chubby TJ)

Chris with the littlest, softest teeny, tiny belly ❗ RPF

Andy Barber/Ransom Drysdale/TJ Hammond (chubby Andy)

Andy Barber/Ransom Drysdale/TJ Hammond (beer bloat)

"Any thoughts on a big bellied C. Evans himself ??" ❗ RPF

chubby Goth!Bucky

**Oct 4: Bulging Bellies and Love Handles

Hydra Trash Party Bloat/Stuffing Art ❗ HTP, Force Feeding, Non-Con

Chubby Wakanda!Bucky

Steve Kemp (yes the cannibal though he learns better fatter ways)

❗ cannibalism

Fat Camp Bucky Outgrows His Bath ❗ Superchub Bucky

Food-drunk dad bod Andy and his accent

CNC with thick Steve ❗ dubcon

Hurt/Comfort with chubby Steve and chubby Bucky ❗ Eating Disorder

Buckitty ❗ mpreg, lactation kink

#I finally made a masterlist of all my writing #masterlist #chubby bucky #chubby steve #dad bod andy #chubby ransom #chubby seb #chubby dean winchester #huh I just realised how much I've written #around 50k on ao3 alone #plus all the drabbles here #I made this :D #chubby Chris

144 notes · View notes

fggtwrmz · 3 years

Text

✞ pretty little sinner ✞

Hihi!! Taz here with this accounts first ((technically second)) post! This ones a full fic so it’s v lengthy

warnings: dubcon, noncon is you squint, size kin, dirty talk, talk of breeding, oral, religious themes, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, talk of corruption, did i mention degradation? cus we went a lil ham on degration, very rough in general, no like seriously kuroos hella mean here

please mind the warnings and leave if your uncomfortable with any listed!!

wc: 7.6k

The whole small town that you had lived in had known you and your parents as the perfect catholic family, and why would they have any reason to not believe that? After all, you were always such a good girl. The pride and joy of your parents’ lives, you did good in school, never complained about chores, and attended church every Sunday. That’s right, you were the perfect little catholic school girl.

That's what drew you into him.

You looked so innocent, so pure, so breakable, he just had to have you.

And that cute little cross necklace you wore to show your faith? He just wanted to rip it off of you. Have you worship him instead.

When you had spoken to him you didn’t imagine what he would actually be like. He’d put up such a sweet facade. But that's all it was.

A facade.

“What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this, Dollface?” Came out the velvety voice of the walking personification of temptation himself; Kuroo Tetsuro.

You had heard about him through whispered rumors throughout the halls. He had an infamous reputation. But rumors were just that. Rumors.

So you humored him.

“At….The corner store? I’m getting snacks, what does it look like?” You had to giggle. It was such a foolish question. So foolish that you didn’t know the weight that it had held.

He had you hook, line, and sinker, you were just too innocent to realize. And he had been oh so sweet to accept your invitation to church on Sunday! Of course, you had to ask him, the house of God was as good a place to get to know someone as any. Much better than a dingy corner store anyway.

His words were sweet and charming, even for just a small chat. There was a look on his face that made you suspect something, but the way he spoke pushed your suspicions.

So when Sunday came and you saw him waiting for you at the door, in what appeared was his normal attire, you still gave him a big smile and waved him over to where you and your parents were.

“Kuroo! You made it!” You wanted to embrace him in a hug, but you felt that would be a little too familiar for someone you had only met yesterday at a convenience store. “Of course I made it, I wouldn’t blow someone as cute as you off.” He spoke, caressing your cheek.

Of course he wasn't nervous about being too familiar.

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, the affection catching you off guard.

“Sorry if I seem a bit underdressed.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though it seemed as if he didn’t care. His attire could be deemed inappropriate for a church setting. His ripped jeans, loose-fitting button-up shirt, Jordan Retros, contrasting with your pure white short sleeve blouse, frilly plaid green and black skirt, and shining black Mary Janes, and of course that shiny cross necklace that hung so prettily from your neck.

You giggled, “No worries! I’m sure if you had shown up naked the lord wouldn’t turn you away.”

And there you went again, going on about how the lord would love anyone, sinner or saint. He’d wondered how you would react if you knew the sins he had committed, had planned to commit.

He wondered what filthy sins such a precious girl like you were hiding under that short little skirt of yours.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

You had taken your seat in the far back pews, opting to sit in between him and your parents. You’d been paying attention to your pastor, up until you felt a warm, calloused hand rest itself on your thigh.

You looked up with a curious look, but Kuroo seemed to be more focused on the word of the holy father than you, so you relaxed at his touch. Keyword; seemed.

And that wasn’t all he was planning to do, unfortunately for you.

He rubbed up and down your upper thigh, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh between your skirt’s end and your thigh highs beginning, pushing your skirt just a little higher up your thighs to get more space.

At that moment you thought you'd absolutely die if your parents looked over at the sinful act that was going on between you two, but when you looked over they were both too caught up in the pastor’s prayer to notice anything.

His hand moved inward, causing your breath to hitch. His fingers practically brushed against your core, causing you to let out a gasp. It was loud enough for just him to hear but low enough to where your parents wouldn’t suspect anything.

You placed a hand on his wrist, signaling it was not the time for this. He simply flashed a smirk, never looking down your way. His fingers made their way to your panties, gently rubbing against your folds, you ended up dampening the garments in the process.

You sucked in your breath, now holding onto his wrist with a feverish grip, notifying him just how on edge you were.

“Time for the communion! Everyone, form a line, children, teenagers, then adults.” Father announced.

You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding in.

Your pastor had just saved you from eternal damnation.

You and Kuroo walked in line, behind a couple of kids and in front of a few more teens. He rubbed down your shoulders and arms, sending chills down your spine.

You held your hands behind your back as children took their crackers which were symbolic of the flesh of Jesus, their “wine” symbolic of the blood of Christ, and scattered back to their seats.

When it was your turn, Kuroo made sure to keep a keen eye on the way your head tilted back ever so slightly when you had opened your mouth for the cracker to be placed on your tongue.

He wondered what other situations you would be in such an arguably compromising position.

You ate the cracker and took the small, plastic shot glass-like cup with you back to your seat.

“Nah,” Kuroo shook his head, declining the offer of the cracker, and took the cup, downing it and throwing it in the small trash bin next to the pastor, walking back to his seat, not looking back.

He sat back down next to you, his hands in his pockets this time. You stared ahead, waiting for anything to happen, the tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Suddenly, he leaned down to your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. “By the way, you get so fucking wet. It’d be pathetic if it weren't so adorable.” He hummed, sending heat straight to your core.

You gasped at his words, looking up at him as he leaned back up. “Kuroo!” You whispered. “You shouldn’t curse in the house of the lord!”

He looked down at you and chuckled slightly.

“Oh princess, if it were just us here I’d do so much worse.” He teased, making your eyes widen. Heat rushed over your body, causing you to break eye contact with him. His gaze became too much to bear.

Your parents and pastor had warned you of temptation before, but you had always thought it would be easy to overcome. You would have never thought that it could be something like this. His words and gentle touches felt like too much yet not enough all at the same time.

You wanted it all to stop, but yet you wanted to beg for more.

But you had to keep your composure, God's eyes were on you, you reminded yourself.

But all you could feel was his eyes on. They were fixated on you. The thought alone of that insatiable look in his eye made your thighs pressed together and your throat run dry. It all made your head reel.

And just like that, it was over.

You had been so lost in thought that it took Kuroo shaking you to make you notice everyone getting up and gathering outside for the weekly catch-ups that turned, “just a few minutes dear, and then I swear we’ll leave,” into 30 minutes and plans to babysit Mrs. Johnson's grandsons next weekend.

“Is it time to go?” Kuroo asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Only the adults are leaving, the teenagers and children stay for Sunday school, that’s why I’m wearing this outfit.” You whispered to him.

He went silent until he proposed an idea that caught you way off guard. “We should go back to my place for bible study, I might be able to show you a different type of God.”

Your eyebrows raised at the sudden invitation, you didn’t know what he meant by that, but you know it’d be rude to decline such an offer since he had come to Sunday worship despite his belief in this “other type of god”.

Before you could answer he tapped your mother’s shoulder, catching the attention of both of your parents.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I speak to you for a second?” He asked politely. Your parents said their goodbyes to Sister Elise and stepped away with you and Kuroo. “Yes?” Came the voice of your mother.

“Would it be alright if me and your sweet daughter here, a real angel if I do say so, could go back to mine so we can go over the Psalms? I would offer to do it over the phone but the lord’s word can only be understood in person.” It’s like he had the good Christian boy next door role down pact.

Your parents looked at each other worriedly. “I don’t know, will there be a guardian to watch over you two?” Your father asked. “Yes sir, my fathers at work, but my mother will be there. I promise I’ll have her home at a reasonable time.” He promised.

Oh yeah, he has this little act down to the T, not like you could see through it though. You were so naive and thought that you could bring out the good in him with the help of good. How foolish.

Your father looked at his watch. “It's five now, so have her home no later than eight. Understood?” “Crystal clear, thank you, sir. Shall we get going?” He asked you, a perfect and pure smile plastered on his face.

He was too perfect, your parents already adored him.

Too bad it was only to get in your pants.

———

You were on his bed. His room smelled of pinewood and lavender. You drowned in the scent, loving every second of it.

His room was nothing like yours, he had deep red walls, wooden floors, and everything looked to be either black or red, barely any other colors being seen other than the clothes in his closet, and some other things you couldn’t identify, but he shut it before you could get a good look.

“Sorry if my room is a bit dirty, I didn’t think about cleaning up before inviting you.” He apologized, closing the curtains.

You loved the way he spoke, it was like his words were coated with chocolate. His luscious and velvety voice made you think things, things the lord would frown upon.

“No worries! Nobody’s perfect.” You kindly reassured him with a polite smile.

He’d think differently, you were a goddess in his eyes. Every part of you, even everything he couldn’t see, not that he’d be in the dark for much longer.

He chuckled, his eyes wandering down your figure, undressing you with his eyes, as you sat innocently on his bed waiting for whatever he might do.

“So where’s your mom?” You asked innocently, catching him off guard. “What?” “You said your mom was here, where is she? I didn’t see her when we walked in.”

He’d already forgotten. Typical.

“Oh, she’s probably taking a nap.” He lied with ease.

He didn’t think he'd be able to forgive himself if he was in the presence of his mother while thinking about such ungodly things. He planned to defile you, and he wanted to be the only one who even got close to experiencing you in such a state.

“Oh well-uhm...I’ll be sure to be quiet so I don’t disturb her.”

He held in a chuckle. There was no way that you would be quiet, no way you could be quiet when he got his way.

“So…. While I have no real interest in changing faiths, I have to ask about the god that you worship.”

He had you right where he wanted you.

He hovered over your frame at the edge of the bed, him standing and towering over you. He’d lifted your chin to look up at him with the tips of his fingers and said in a delightfully sinful tone,

“Oh baby,” He leaned in close to your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “I’m the new god, and you're gonna worship me like I’m your true creator.”

You felt yourself shrink, yes at the way he was menacingly towering over you, but at the way he describes his God—no, himself.

“You-you’re...the god you were talking about?” You stammered, your hands on his chest, trying to make some distance between you and his dominating presence.

Sadly to no avail.

“Mhm, and you’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understood?”

"Y-yes, sir."

"Awe look at you, using your manners without me having to tell you. Keep that up and you just might get a reward." He cooed.

You felt a familiar heat pool at the pit of you.

What was he going to do to you? What were these sudden temptations? And most importantly why did you want more.

This was god testing you, and you were failing miserably.

You wanted so badly to give in to your desires. To leave behind the life of that sweet innocent angel that everyone once knew, you wanted to give yourself wholly to your new one and only savior.

You were really doing this.

You were abandoning the only faith you’d ever known for some stranger.

For all you know he could be a demon from hell himself, here to stray you away from the path the lord had originally sent you to. No, he couldn’t be a demon. He was so sweet when the two of you had first met, and he was so polite when addressing your parents.

You felt like Eve, being tempted with such a delicious specimen by the devil himself. So when he pushed his lips against yours harshly, like Eve, you gave in.

His lips molded perfectly against yours. Your tongues were dancing in an elegant waltz that could only be described as heavenly. His lips tasted so sweet on yours. If this was the forbidden fruit you would happily taste it again and again.

His hands roamed your backside, hiking your skirt up so he could get a feel of your cotton panties. Your breathing sped, feeling him caress your clad ass. You’d always been told to never let anyone touch you like this unless you’re married, but I guess your god was the only exception.

That’s right. Kuroo was god now, and you had to let him do whatever you want.

Suddenly, he roughly pulled your skirt off, throwing it behind him. You whimpered, afraid he might’ve ripped your skirt.

Feeling his rough hands run up your sides and into your shirt, he stopped kissing you to look down, causing you to let out a whine, missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Awe baby, don’t look so sad, I’ll get your mouth back to work real soon.” He whispered, trying to unbutton your shirt. Trying.

You could tell he was getting frustrated at how the buttons wouldn’t come undone.

He groaned loudly, grabbing an open hole of your blouse and ripping it open, making the buttons of your shirt fly everywhere. You gasped, whining because now you didn’t have anything to come home in.

“Kuroo! How am I supposed to go home without a shirt?” You whined, hearing him chuckle soon after.

“Hush, you’ll be fine don’t worry, you won’t be needing it anytime soon.” Kuroo reassured with a smirk.

He unclipped your bra and threw it behind him, looking down hungrily at your tits, admiring how perfect they were. He cupped one of them and proceeded to place the other in his mouth. You let out a soft moan, awakening something fierce in him.

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait to hear more of those sweet sounds, princess. That’s right, let it all out for me baby.”

He kissed up your chest and to your neck, peppering kisses and bite marks on you. Claiming you.

He bit down on a certain spot, making you moan out, your fingers getting intertwined with the back of his hair. Your legs clung onto his waist as he abused the spot with his mouth, leaving dark hickeys.

Your moans became needier when he brought his knee up to your cunt, grinding it right against your clit, making you wetter by the second.

You felt high on ecstasy, the pleasure becoming heavenly, but what made everything pure bliss was his words.

The way he’d call you his baby, his princess in between kisses, and the best of all, his little sinner.

Being called his sinner made you feel a different type of feeling. It felt wrong, you could feel the heavens looking down on you in disappointment with each response you gave him.

Yes, you’d be giving up your oath to stay pure until marriage, but if it’s your god taking your virginity, what harm could be done?

When he lifted up off you, you were snapped from your pleasure.

He was looking down at your body and you resting upwards on your elbows, wondering why he’d left.

“Get on your knees.” It wasn't a request. It was an order. One that you, of course, didn’t even think to disobey.

So there you sat. All pretty and kneeling in front of him as if he was an alter.

You looked like such a perfect slut in his eyes. Who knew that such an innocent little virgin could look like the perfect whore.

He wouldn’t tell you that though. No, he wanted to warm you up first. Call you such sweet names, make you feel like his precious baby girl and then let you know just how much of a dirty slut he thought you were.

Knew you were.

All you needed was a push in the right direction. And he would provide that push.

“Now you want to know how to appease your god, don’t you?”

You nodded from in between his legs enthusiastically.

“Well, first, you have to atone for your sins. Now how would we go about doing that?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know what to say.

“C’mon baby, be a good girl and use your words. How would you atone for your sins? Think about the position you're in before you answer.”

You looked down at your legs which were folded underneath you and looked back up at him.

“P-Prayer?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your innocence. “Oh princess, so innocent even in such a vulgar position baby. You’re gonna atone for your sins by sucking me off. You don't want me to be mad, do you?”

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even understand what sins you had even committed, but if Kuroo says you’ve sinned, you'll let him do anything to make you holy again.

He stood up and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock and waving it teasingly over you.

“Now stick out your tongue.”

You did as you were told, eyes never leaving his cock. It was the only one you’d ever seen, and the only one you ever wanted to see. It was a good 7 or 8 inches and about 4 inches wide in girth.

It had the drool pooling at the bottom of your tongue before falling on your thigh high socks. It felt every bit as sinful as it looked and it had your panties soaked. You'd grinded against yourself for some sort of friction.

“Awe, so pretty for me, now listen to me, you're gonna take everything I give you, ok princess?”

You nodded, feeling as if your voice would betray if you tried to speak.

“What’d I say about using your words? Such a shame, you were being so good earlier.”

“Sorry sir, please don’t be mad, I promise I’ll-I'll take it all. I'll be so good for you.” The words were coming out faster than you could control. If someone would have told you that you would be in that predicament about a week ago you would have laughed in their face. But here you were, begging for him to do something, anything.

You sounded absolutely brain dead and he loved it.

“Ah, yeah that’s it, that’s my good girl.” He said grabbing you by your hair and gently guiding you down his shaft.

“Fuck baby, ‘gonna train this throat so well you’ll be ready to worship this cock with your mouth anytime of any day.” He growled, lowering your head down faster, soon hearing you gag over his length. You felt tears prick your eyes as he finally thrusted his full length in your mouth, going well past your limits.

He lets out a dark chuckle, suddenly being cut off by a throaty moan.

“Ah f-fuck princess you’re being such a good girl, now remember to breathe through your nose.” He reminded you, resulting in you looking up at him and nodding, letting him know you understood.

Your parents would disown you if they knew what you were doing. Your pastor and priest wouldn’t even think of speaking to you. You’d only have Kuroo, but that doesn’t sound too bad. After all, you had devoted your life to your religion in the past, so what would be so different now? You’d just be able to indulge in such fine luxuries as getting facefucked after church.

He put his other hand on your head, roughly shoving your head down, matching the bucking upwards of his hips. The action erupted a loud groan from him, throwing his head back.

You could feel him all the way down your throat.

“Oh yeah, that’s my good girl, fucking hell baby girl,” he moaned, you could feel his thrusting start to get uneven, your throat not having anymore time to adjust to his size and abuse.

His pace was absolutely brutal but you sat there, taking everything he gave you.

On the inside you were smiling, happy to please your god, you felt so proud of yourself for making him feel good. Being his good little girl. His obedient little worshipper.

Your eyes became watery, the way he roughly thrusted into your mouth made your throat hurt, which made your eyes water.

He bit his lip, lowering the sound of the grunt he let out. “Mmf, baby you look so pretty right now, such a pretty fucking princess for me.” He grunted.

You didn’t feel pretty, though. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, makeup, and ran down mascara. Your hair was under Kuroo’s grip, messily overlapping his hands. Strings of drool were hanging from your plump lips onto your thighs, not to mention your soaked panties.

Kuroo on the other hand looked heaven sent. Hair messily askew and face tinted slightly red. Biting his lip while sweat slid down his forehead. He looked like he was graced by God.

He looked like he was graced by God.

You felt ashamed at how wet you got by just looking at him, but fuck was he sexy.

He shoved your head down quicker and quicker, thrust harder into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck baby you’re gonna-you’re gonna make me—” His groans became more and more breathy, and his working became more and more sloppy, until you felt a warm, thick, sticky liquid coat the insides of your mouth.

The foreign substance tasted bitter and you wanted to spit it—

“Ah ah,” he sang, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him.

You looked disgusting. He wanted to see you like this more often.

“Be good and swallow for me, baby girl.”

You gulped down the liquid, feeling it still in your throat, but it didn’t bother you enough to where you couldn’t breath.

“Di-did I do good, sir?” You sounded absolutely broken, and it was like music to his ears.

“You did amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard. Does your face feel alright?” He cooed, tucking himself back into his pants.

“My jaw hurts, and so does my throat, but I’m glad I got to make you feel good.”

Kuroo smirked, admiring what he molded you into. Such a dedicated disciple, you deserve an award. “Now it’s your turn. Come on, hop up on the bed for me,” he commanded, patting the spot on his bed beside him.

You did so eagerly, not wanting to break your obedience streak. You sat on your feet, your hands resting on each of your thighs, smiling with the light shining beautifully in your eyes.

Even as the mascara ran down your cheek, you looked so beautiful to him.

“Lay down.” He softly said. You obeyed, as usual, keeping your legs closed in the air. You had no idea what he was thinking of doing.

“Spread them for me, babes.” He commanded. You were confused, why did he want your legs spread?

“Wait, why?” You asked innocently. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Because I said so. You’re not really denying the word of your lord, are you?”

Of course you didn’t. You were completely devoted to him, so without further hesitation you spread your legs. He pulled your drenched panties up off you and threw them somewhere in the room.

He ducked himself inbetween your thighs and planted your thighs on the side of his head with a secure grip.

“W-Wait!” You squeaked out.

“What’s wrong baby? You’ve been such a good girl, and good girls deserve rewards now don’t they?” He acts like this is for you, when in all honesty it’s all been for him. This whole time he’s only been fulfilling his desires of turning you from a sweet and innocent princess into a filthy fucked out whore and he knows this will only speed the process a bit, you just so happen to be getting some pleasure out of it.

“Yeah I gue- Ah!” A moan cut you off when you felt him lick up your wet folds, moaning your legs jolt up and your back arch.

He plunged his tongue into you, his thick tongue thrusts into you, making your moans come out in squeaks. You felt absolutely amazing already.

His tongue circled around your clit, pushing his tongue in and out of you in patterns; leaving his tongue in, out, for a second, then in again going back to sucking and circling.

Your moans became higher and breathier each time his tongue circled your clit, it drove him absolutely crazy.

He was...spelling something? You could feel it as he kept making the same trails around your cunt.

Kuroo.

“Mmph, Kuroo, more please…” You moaned tugging at his hair. He slid his thumb up your thigh, rubbing your clit as he pushed his tongue deeper in you, prodding your sweet spot.

The sudden action made you cry out in pleasure, tugging at his hair. He moaned from under you at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure on his scalp.

Kuroo stuck his tongue in and out of you, continuing to rub your clit with his thumb. You felt a tingling sensation grow low in your stomach, making your grip tighten on Kuroo’s hair and while your other frantically grabbed at his sheets, the foreign feeling traveling through your entire being.

You moaned his name, wanting to ask him what the sensation was, but your mind only focused on him, making barely anything come out other than moans and his name.

His fingers sped up as his tongue explored your walls. The sensation made you tighten, sending chills through your core as the pressure became too much to process alone.

Your legs twitched as your orgasm rocked through you, your eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly.

All that you could think of in that moment was Kuroo. KurooKurooKurooKuroo. It was a repeating mantra in your mind.

Your walls tightened around Kuroo’s tongue, a moan squeaking from your throat. Your grip tightened as you came, covering his tongue. You came from your high slowly, allowing you to let out a satisfied sigh.

You smiled peacefully as he hungrily lapped at your clit, making sure not to let a single drop of your cum slip from his tongue.

As he pulled out his fingers and lifted up from your body, you relaxed, your legs falling and your hand bringing itself to rest upon your stomach.

He came up and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. You tried pushing him away, not liking the taste of yourself, but he slapped your thigh, taking your hands and holding both of them above your head.

You whimpered squirming, uncomfortable with him holding you down. You shook your head in the kiss, trying to get away, but he only took this as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body temperature rise as he rocked against you, grinding against your thigh. The foreign feeling felt weird, but knowing you were giving him pleasure did cloud your mind with a hazy fog.

He parted ways from the kiss and looked down on you.

You looked so fucked out, and the real fun hadn’t even started yet. He wondered how you would be able to take him all the way, the thought of you not being able to handle all of him snuck its way into his mind and making him groan.

You would look so cute crying that it was all too big, how it wouldn’t fit. The money he’d pay to see that, he’d bow down and pray to any god to see that image and keep it in his mind forever.

He leaned up and loomed over you, caging you with his hands on either side of your head. His eyes were dark with lust. It struck a tinge of fear in you.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out, and spread your legs once more.

Leaning down, he whispered in your ear. "Do you think you're worthy enough for my cock princess?"

"Huh!?"

"Awe, what did you think was gonna happen sweetheart? You thought it'd be that easy to make up for your sins—"

"But you said—" you felt tears prick your eyes. You didn't think you were ready for such a big step before marriage. You two weren't even dating!

"But you said—" He mocked in a whiny voice. "I know what I said, and now I'm saying," he pulled you by the cross on your necklace.

"That I'm gonna fuck you until you’re too fucked out to even think about anything else. I'll turn you into such a pretty whore that you'll feel dirty even thinking about stepping foot in that church. Do you understand slut?"

Whore? Slut? Where was this coming from? He’d been so nice to you. You wouldn’t think he’d call you such degrading names. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him.

You looked down at his size, causing you to whimper in fear for your small body.

Kuroo squeezed your cheeks in one hand roughly, making you whine, your eyes watering. “Use your words, you dumb bitch. Do you or do you not understand what I’m saying?” He repeated.

You nodded. “I-I understa-stand.” You hiccuped, hugging your arms.

You we’re borderline sobbing at this point. This wasn’t the smooth and sweet guy who chatted you up in the convenience store. This wasn’t the sweet christian boy your parents knew. This man was Lucifer himself.

And now, your new lord and saviour.

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You should have never given him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone was right about him. He was just a mean playboy jerk who treated women like shi-

“Awe don’t cry sweetheart. You were doing so good just a minute ago.” His sweet and comforting tone snapped you from your thoughts, and you felt your mind become just a bit less panicked about the whole situation. “Although, you do look awfully pretty when you cry… hm… How bout this; I’ll just make you feel so good to where your instant reaction is to cry. That way I get to see that cute little tear-stained face, and you get to have my expert cock. How does that sound, princess?”

You nodded, feeling like if you opened your mouth only sobs would come out.

“What did I say about your words?” He quickly chastised.

“S-Sorry. Yes sir I-I’d like that…”

“That's a good girl,” The praise made your chest bubble with joy. You were happy that you could be seen as good in his eyes after all the disgusting things he had just called you.

“Now here’s the worst part.”

And that was all the warning you got before he rammed his cock into you. It was the worst pain that you had ever felt. The agonizing stretch, the unfamiliar feeling of being so full, it all was too painful to bear. So you did exactly what he planned and cried.

He thought of going slow, he really did, but then he wouldn’t be able to see you and those absolutely gorgeous tear streaks.

“Kuroo, it hurts! It’s too much! Take it out please!” You sobbed out.

He laughed at you. “Aww poor baby, is it too much?”

“Good.” He said with another slam of his hips. “You seem—fuck— to forget what we’re—oh god your so fucking tight—doing this for. You were acting like a bitch in church. In the house of your—shit—precious lord.” He said the last point in a mocking tone. “And now you're just paying for your sins to your new god.” He breathed out while continuing to thrust into you at a brutal pace.

You could only cry harder as he fucked you with such vigor. The stretch was so painful and with every rough thrust he hit your cervix dead on. It was absolute torture.

So you 're confused as to why the pain slowly subsided and turned to pleasure. Were you… enjoying this? No. There was no way. You didn’t even get a real say in what was happening. So why we’re tiny gasps coming out faster than you could stop them? And why did your hips start to move down to match his thrusts.

“How do you thi-think your parents would react to your sinful actions right now? Huh, you dumb slut? Bet they’d be so disappointed to see that their precious little girl is nothing but a pretty little sinner huh? Say it! Fuck- Say you’re a sinner, and make sure the neighbors can hear you say it.”

“B-but your mom..!”

“You actually believed that?” He laughed. His laughing consisted of grunts and groans, making his laughing time out. “You’re such a fucking dumbass, you know that? I wouldn’t be touching your disgusting ass if my mother was home.” He growled, making more tears stream down your face.

You whined, covering your face because of the absurd amount of embarrassment you felt.

“Oh no no no, don’t cover your beautiful face now!” He grunted, taking both of your wrists and holding them above your head.

With only the bottom half of his cock fucking into you, his thrusts were long and deep, making sure you felt it in your stomach. Your eyes rolled back with each agonizingly painful and deep thrust, your nails ripping off your skins from balling your fists.

“Oh fuckkkk you're so tight for me.” Kuroo groaned. ”How’s such a slut like you got such a tight pussy?”

It was obvious that the question was rhetorical as he started to slow his thrusts but put more force behind them, bruising your cervix. All you could let out were little “ah ah ah ahhhhhhs”.

He slowly stopped, looking down at your trembling body. He let out a breathy groan, shaking his head and biting his lip.

He let go of one of your wrists and grabbed hold of your hand, bringing it down to your stomach.

“Princess, do you feel that?” He asked, rubbing your hand over a bump on your stomach. You looked down with him, seeing a slight bump stand with attention below your belly button, making your eyes widen and your breath quicken.

“Ka-ka-Kuroo! What is that?!” You frantically questioned.

He looked up at you with the most agrivated, most dumb founded look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?! That’s me, dollface.” He spat, making you jump. “Y-you..?”

He groaned, slamming into you again, causing you to scream out again. “Ya’ see that moving in your stomach? That’s me, fucking deep into your tight tight pussy.” He growled. You look down again, seeing the bulge in your stomach move with each sharp thrust Kuroo sent through you.

It made your head feel fuzzy.

Your body started adjusting to his size, finally. You lifted your legs to cling onto the side of his waist, but they quickly fell spread for him. Your arms also stopped struggling, relaxing under his grip. Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head. With each animalistic thrust of his hips you could feel the bed shake. You could barely hear the frame hit the wall over the sound of your high whines and moans and his low groans filling your ear. But you could still faintly hear it, reminding of how rough he was getting.

“Alright princess now open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” He commanded from over you.

You opened your mouth and leaned your head back being sure to lol your tongue out.

You felt a cold liquid settle near the tip of your tongue, it was Kuroo’s spit. He’d let it fall like a fountain. Licking his lips when he’d finished.

“Now swallow like a good girl.”

You closed your mouth and gulped. Letting the spit slide down your tongue. It should have grossed you out, but instead it made your eyes roll back.

“Aww, look at you, all pretty and fucked out.” he shrugged, thrusting upwards into you, hitting a spot that made you scream out in ecstasy.

“Kuroo, right there! Fuck, Kuroo yes right there!!” You moaned, arching your back and throwing your head back.

That was the first time you cursed. Ever.

“Such a dirty vocabulary you’re discovering! I’m such a good influence on you, your parents would be so proud.” He sarcastically exclaimed in a low and gravelly voice.

Your parents. You were so caught up in your pleasure that you completely forgot all about them, and the time limit they'd set for you. You were sure you’d past it, it was fairly dark outside.

You whined, feeling more tears of disappointment roll down the side of your face. “Do-don’t talk about them right now…Ah-I’m gonna-Kuroo fuck p-please!”

He only thrusted harder faster. “Awe baby, do you think you're the one in control? That’s so cute.” He pulled you by your necklace for the second time that night. “You’re atoning for your sins, and I’m using your body for my own pleasure. So you’re gonna sit back, and make sure the only thing that comes out of that pretty. Little. Mouth,” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust. “Are those pretty. Little. Moans. You got that princess?”

“Y-yes sir. I’m so sorry sir.”

“Awe look at my baby! Using her words like a good girl!” He deeply cooed.

You bit your lip, holding back the moan you desperately wanted to let out, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your voice. He noticed and started to pound faster. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck! Kuroo! Ple-ase! Fuck you’re so good. Sosososo good. Pleeeeease!”

“Listen to you! You sound downright pathetic!” He laughed at you. It felt humiliating, but you felt yourself getting wetter from the whole situation. The intensity, the humiliation, Kuroo’s groans, they all were filling up your senses, and you could feel yourself nearing your climax.

“Look at you, you’re getting tighter. How much of a- fuuuuck how is it possible that your tighter- slut are you? You're really getting off to me calling you a slut? You like that? Huh? Go on, answer me whore.”

“Yes! Yes Kuroo! I’m your whore! Fuuuuuckkkk!” Your moans were high and breathy.

He pulled you by your necklace one again and snatched it clean off of you.

You gasped, snapping out of your lustful trance. “Kuroo!!! My dad gave me that!!” You cried.

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m your god now, you don’t need a stupid cross, I’ll let everyone know you’re mine.” He huffed, dangling it in front of you, before throwing it out his window.

The window. The window!

“K-Kuroo, how long has that be-been open?” You asked.

He groaned, slowing down his thrust. “The window? It’s been open since this morning.” He shrugged, fucking into you sloppier and sloppier.

You felt embarrassed, heat rushing over your being as you held onto Kuroo to hide your face. “O-oh…” you moaned, scrunching your eyebrows together in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed that my whole neighborhood can hear how bitchy, and pathetic you sound? Fuck- Good, fucking cry about it like the stupid bitch you are.”

Each insult brought you closer to that edge. You forgot all about your previous embarrassment and basked in the bliss of Kuroo’s rough thrusts.

“Holy shit- Did you get tighter from me reminding you of how much of a—shiiiiiitttt—of a fucking slut you are?” His voice sounded so breathy. You could feel him twitching inside of you.

And then the dam broke. You could feel your orgasm sparking through you like electricity.

“Kuroo! Kuroo! Im cumm- Im cumming! Oh Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! You're so good!”

He revelled in the profanities spilling from your mouth, knowing that before this you probably would have never thought about saying such vile things.

“Oh thats right baby who’s making you cum on his cock like a dumb bitch in heat? Who’s your god? C’mon, say it, princess.”

“You! Shit! You're my god! Oh please- It’s too much! It's- It’s too much!”

He laughed at you. “How many fucking—Fuck baby you feel so good—How many times do I have to tell you this isn’t- Shit- This isn’t for you.” The last part came out as a dark growl.

“Y-Yes sir! I’m sorry.”

“Yeah that's a good girl, oh you're such a good slut for me. Shutting up and just taking it. Yeahhh that's a good fucking whore. You want your god to cum inside you? Breed you and fill you up so nice? That what you want princess?”

Your eyes widened. Nononono he couldn’t! He had to pull out!

“N-No...Please...” Your voice sounded so weak and tiny.

“Oh no baby, that was rhetorical. You're gonna sit back and let me breed this little pussy like a good girl who stays in her place, because surely- fuck- you remember your place and wouldn’t talk back, now would you?”

You knew it was useless to deny him. You don’t even know why you tried.

After a few more thrust there was a particularly hard one. The force of fit knocked you back a bit, but he pulled you back by your thighs so he would stay fully buried inside of you.

Suddenly you felt nothing but warmth filling you. He was cumming inside you. You could feel him shooting spurt after spurt. You had never felt so full, his thick cock splitting you accompanied by his come pushed you to another orgasm. Your legs shot up and you let out a loud whiny moan.

“Oh god! Oh fuck! You feel so good filling me up Kuroo- Fuck!”

“Aww you came again from me cumming in you? What happened to you not wanting it?” He teased. You couldn’t respond, you still hadn’t come down from your high.

_________

You woke up in an unfamiliar location, dark red walls and black sheets were unlike your pastel blue walls and baby pink sheets. You panicked, until memories of your earlier actions came back to you. You weren't completely calm though, you were sure you definitely passed your curfew and Kuroo was nowhere to be found.

“Kuroo! I need to get home like— now!”

He entered the room and laughed. “Oh calm down you big baby, I called your folks and said you’d passed out cause you were so tired. Took some convincing, but they’re fine with you spending the night here.”

You sighed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “Oh, thank god.”

“Speaking of,” He came closer to you. “You down for round two?”

You felt warmth flood your face and threw a pillow at him. “You pervert!”

“How am I the pervert when you're the one naked in my bed?”

He was right, you did feel a cold breeze brush against your cold body as you pulled the covers up.

“Well then where are my clothes?”

He winced, itching the back of his neck. “Ya’ see...your skirt is still ripped, but I put your underwear and skirt in the wash. You could wear something of mine though!"

#haikyuu!!#haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu x reader smut #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro smut #x reader smut #tw.noncon #tw.cnc #tw.spit #tw.religious imagery #tw.dumbification #tw.degradation

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years

Text

Kaz Brekker/Platonic! Crows x fem! Reader - Silence

A/n: So I know I haven't been very active lately but hopefully that will change! Also I don't really love this fic it's not very good and I might rewrite it in the future but for now, you guys can enjoy this shit!!!

Warnings: Abuse, sexual abuse, rape, violence, mentions of death, technically mentions of suicide, THIS FIC IS A MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!!!!

Summary: They used to be happy. That’s what Jesper says anyways about his sister. When he’s asked where it all went wrong it’s usually responded with an I have no idea. When Kaz comes to confront them in front of the Crows why you came back all bloodied and carrying back a body, they know this isn’t going to end well…

Death clung to you. That's what people muttered in the streets of Ketterdam, 'if the Blackbird is on a strike don't go outside for a week and remember, pray to the saint who wears the most colour.'

Great bedtime stories for children.

Your legend would never end, though it must have begun somewhere. Someone who you decided could witness one of your killings must have made up a story. Started it up and told it in fright to someone and the people not believing a word they say. Before their dead of course. And then it spreads like the plague.

The Blackbird was once a hopeful girl, full of dreams and happiness. She had beautiful feathers of all different kinds of colours, and they sang to the heavens and it was as if she was a child of the saints. Then one day - the bird that brought kindness and sunshine to everyone's lives fell into a trap.

There was a hyena that people all thought was bad news but she thought she could help him become a better person.

The little birdy was wrong.

He hurt the bird of colours so badly that one day he burned her feathers and they became pitch black. The hyena thought that he had won at last and had gotten power over the bird.

It was said that she ran and escaped the terrible beast that day. And because he had changed her to the very soul she wasn't the same anymore, no. She was only used for revenge, and it was said she turned her backs on the saints for not saving her. When the saints did decide to intervene the little bird was shattered and could no longer sing. Her voice reduced to a vengeful whip, it was no longer beautiful but fearsome.

It was said that on that night the Blackbird used her wings on Ketterdam so she could cover the sky in darkness so the stars in the sky, the only things the saints could use to watch over mankind was blindfolded in a merciless fog.

And there the Blackbird was born.

Maybe death clung to you, but not the same way that trauma and the cruelness of the world does.

And that's a fate worse than death.

You remember strike one, you and Jesper were kids - happy kids. And the neighbour's son of was considerably older than both of you offered to babysit the one time your Da, and Ma was out.

Jesper was playing in the back, perhaps practicing shooting so he could impress your Mum but you stayed inside saying something along the lines that you wanted to cook some cookies for Dad.

How you wished you hadn't.

That teenage boy had put his filthy little hands on you. He left you in the kitchen tears running down your face and bile that you had to force back down your throat.

Your mother had found you like that and she instantly knew what had happened and she made everything much more bearable. When you had nightmares you would get up and knock on her door quietly enough for her just to hear and because your Ma was a light sleeper but your Da was not, she would get up and see you alright.

The poor woman never told her husband because you had pleaded with her not to. She always did blame herself and she made sure the boy never came around again but she did thank the saints that he didn't go all the way.

She wasn't sunshine, (she always said that was you!) No, she was the faint moonlight in the distance that helped guide you on your way home.

Then she died.

Strike two, was your mother dying. You remember that day where she went to take the poison out of that child and when she did she sucked it back into herself. In your arms was the last place your Ma took her last breath.

That was the day the world had lost its guide home and it always seemed to be in peril after that.

Strike three came almost immediately after strike two. Your father wouldn't talk to you. You became a ghost in your own house, you understood your father though,

she did die in your arms.

Jesper was the only one that didn't make strike three the last strike where the rope was at its point and snapped. He was your armour against the world, with his funny quirks and quips. He was the older brother you needed in those moments.

But armour slowly breaks over time and your dear brother wasn't getting enough out of life at the farm. So when your Father sent Jesper to Ketterdam you went right with him.

You attended college for a bit but eventually, your armour had finally left you. It broke under the stress of everything in his life that he couldn't keep up with yours.

So you meant him.

He was kind but knew when the world was being too cruel. He was wealthy, but not rich. He was sweet, but not puke up rainbows kind of way. He knew you like the back of his hand and always knew how to comfort you. Jesper had actually meant him once before he got too busy with the Dregs and said maybe he knew you too well.

You yelled at him at the time and said that was absurd! He would never do anything to hurt you!

Strike four was falling under his spell.

Strike five was when he told you terrible things about yourself and you thought he was always right. He could do no wrong in your eyes.

Strike six was when he finally started beating you and you had just expected it at this point.

Strike seven was when you weren't allowed to go to school anymore.

Strike eight was when he wouldn't let you see anyone, not even your brother. But you never questioned it, he was basically a saint to you, why would you? Besides Jesper never seemed to have time for you anyways.

Strike nine was when he cheated on you and told you you had to be better.

Strike ten was when he started raping you.

Then one day he was worse than usual and you grabbed the hot poker from the fire pit, that he had used to beat you before, and you had told him to stay away.

Then you ran.

It was the straw the broke the camel's back, it was the saints giving up on him or maybe it was the saints giving up on you.

You didn't care, you were free.

You made one promise that day, that you would never love again.

You learned quickly what Ketterdam was like even before you had meant him, so perhaps that was why it was so easy to become the Blackbird. The girl who never smiled, the girl who only lived only for revenge. The monster that will wipe your existence off of the earth like it was nothing. The ghost that will haunt you when your sins line up too high.

Eventually, you joined the dregs and you connected with your brother once again and he knew something was wrong the moment he felt your presence. He didn't believe you were the Blackbird, the girl who terrorized the streets of Ketterdam.

But he learned to accept it, they all did except for that blasted Brekker boy.

With your time in the Dregs, you had slowly begun to form something with Kaz but you quickly remembered your promise to yourself and you let him go.

Although you don't like to admit it, the Crows had become your friends - family even. You would do anything to protect them even though it didn't seem like it. You were you though, and that was being afraid to even semi-connect with them. Of course, you were, because you were growing a bit too fond of Kaz Brekker and last time that lead you to a fate worse than death.

So you distanced yourself for a while to recollect your thoughts and if you really wanted to stay with them. Did they ever manipulate you? No. Then you came back and you stayed, maybe you weren't the perfect friend or a very good one at all but the Crows knew you even considering to stay was a blessing all in itself.

They were always so patient with you even Kaz, especially Kaz, and you never gave anything in return to them. Guilt would often cloud your mind when you were near them but they were always so amazing something you could never be.

But one day they came to their breaking point.

Killing people wasn't anything new for them, much less you killing people but coming back with a bloodied body and losing contact with them for weeks was probably not the same as just 'killing.'

Jesper pulls you by your bicep into Kaz's office with the other Crows following behind. You stumble in as Kaz slams the door shut being the last one in the room. They stare at you with beady eyes almost like the ones on the infamous birds around the Slat.

"What the fuck Y/n!" Jesper finally yells. Everyone around doesn't even bother to tell him to lower his voice their faces held the same anger that Jes's did.

Silence drowns you in its ocean keeping you in its waters. A chain is wrapped around your throat as you sink deeper and deeper into its depths. You try and swim away, run like you always had before, but the weight around your neck is too heavy, too dense and it slowly drowns you.

You just shrugged your shoulders. How could you explain all that you went through? Why would you want to?

"We can't just brush this off Y/n, we always do, but you crossed a line," Wylan states calmly but firmly at the same time putting a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder trying to ease the tension in the room.

You laugh, you hadn't even been walking a line at all. No, you had been jumping from rooftop to rooftop as they created a chalk line at how far you could go. Balling your hands into fits you snarl, they have been keeping you back. Maybe it's a good thing but you didn't want to admit it.

What about Kaz? A voice whispers in the back of your head.

Your eyes travel to his form in the back. He's leaning on the wall slightly but also using his cane to make himself look up-right. The darkness in the back compliments his angular features making them stand out as if saying he was above you. And to most people he probably was and he deserved that position.

But it didn't matter to you, he was just Kaz to you. Even if you saw him as someone... Important in your life, nevertheless he didn't matter. He was just another powerful man drawing a line that you couldn't cross as the line became smaller and smaller till you were trapped against a wall with nowhere to go.

When you first became the Blackbird, you climbed up that wall, you knew what was going to happen next. And you would never let anyone do that to you again.

"If you think I crossed the 'line' then your wrong." Your voice started out light-hearted (never does a fake smile crawl on your face though) but slowly became menacing and terrifying.

You spin of your heels turning to Jesper. "You've kept me in a cage giving me freedom but always locking me back up in the night."

You turn to Wylan and you mock his voice from earlier. "It was only a matter of time before I would break out." Your eyes lock onto Kaz's and your voice softens while you look at him.

"You knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later. A bird needs to stretch its wings somehow."

"That doesn't mean you get to cut off communication with us for weeks than bringing in a body all bloodied. What you said before doesn't even explain why you did that Y/n," Inej says quietly.

You growl and the people closest to you jump back a little.

"Oh, what are you going to do, kick me out? Half of your businesses wouldn't have even succeeded without me!"

Jesper balls his hands into fists. "Gee for fuck's sake Y/n would just tell us!"

"HE'S THE REASON I'M A MONSTER!"

Your shout makes everyone freeze in their place and there it is again. The overbearing silence that takes over everything with its darkness. Running threw out the room, swirling around you and making it impossible for you to even hear anything other than your own terrible thoughts of madness.

But one voice isn't in your head of that hyena howling at you no, it's real and you can hear it among the darkness. You close your eyes listening in and hearing something other than darkness.

"Y/n." Your eyes snap open and you meet Kaz's eyes and you feel something dangerously close to relief.

"Everyone else out."

The Crows file out of the room one by one following Kaz's order. Everyone leaves but Jesper hesitates at the door and you see your broken armour trying to come back to you again and although it's harsh he wasn't there when he should have been. You understood that he had other problems he needed to sort out but you were his little sister.

You were supposed to stick up for each other.

"Out." Your voice would sound cold to anyone else but to Jesper, it sounds tired and unhappy. Lonely also however it has a hit of love and revenge as well.

The taller brother just sighs though and close's the door.

Kaz's eyes meet yours and your hands start to fidget with the cuffs of your bloodied shirt.

He doesn't say anything, he just stares at you. Willing you to spill information with just a glance. Any God would fall prey to those eyes and they would disclose all their knowledge while also thanking him in the end.

Kaz Brekker had something more powerful than Godly power over you.

So you couldn't help but tell him the real more dark story behind the Blackbird, he had already told you his so maybe, just maybe you could trust him.

"Do you know the Story of the Blackbird?" Your voice rings out against the muteness of the room fighting against it for once in your miserable life.

Kaz nods his head showing you that he knew. Of course, he knew it, was Brekker he probably knows every single version by heart.

"And I assume you know it's about me?"

Rolling his eyes but nodding once again.

You hesitate, knowing that after this you couldn't go back. That these next few words could change everything and why are you even telling this to the bastard of the barrel?

Because you love him.

It's simple and you promised yourself you would never love again but possibly that promise wasn't real because perhaps you never really loved that hyena. Some form of peace has definitely come from killing him, but maybe there's more to moving on from trauma than just revenge.

So with those thoughts in mind, the words tumble out of your mouth and you wouldn't be able to stop them even if you tried.

"Around the time where Jesper was just starting in the Dregs I had gotten a boyfriend. He was... Well, he was the perfect boyfriend but looking back he was too perfect. Basically fake, he was a manipulator and he knew me like the back of his hand. He knew where to press and I was under the impression that he could do nothing wrong." You pause to take a breath but you don't look up from your spot on the floor.

"It started with the small things like little insults thrown my way, but then it grew into bigger things like calling me a slut and what not. I wasn't even surprised when he started beating me."

Your eyes slowly come off the floor and they travel up Kaz's body but never meeting his eyes. You didn't want to see the disappointment that would be held in those eyes. That was inevitable.

"Then every day it started to get worse till he-" You cut yourself off and your legs wobble underneath you and as you collapsed Kaz jetted out and caught you before you could fall.

Tears were running down your face as you gripped Kaz's shirt as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bed. He place's you down and slides in beside you yet there was a good distance between the two of you. But it still gave you comfort and for the first time in a while, you didn't question why it did, you just went with it already knowing the reason why.

You loved him it was as simple as that.

"Then he-" You choked on a sob again and you bring your knees to your chest.

"You don't have to say it." He says gently nothing like what that hyena used to do to you.

"Noah used to rape me." The words come out in a blur and the tight feeling in your chest slowly falls apart and for the first time in a while, you truly feel like a Blackbird - free. Stuttering to breathe in a realization comes to your mind; Noah that monster will never hurt you ever again.

"Oh, my Saints! He's dead!" You cover your mouth with your hand and you lean back onto the headboard tears of happiness smear down your face. You don't laugh though but you feel even clearer than before. You could get used to this feeling.

Slowly you look over to Kaz and you realize the two of you were broken souls beyond repair and maybe just maybe that's what you needed. Perhaps that's what you both need, each other.

"Thank you." You whisper and the ends of Kaz's mouth curl's up a bit into what looks like is almost a smile but not quite. You would get there too one day.

===========TIME SKIP 4 Months======================

You jump from the rooftop gliding through the air and landing on the window sill of Kaz's office. You tilt your head to the side affectionately as you see The Crows getting ready for a heist only they're really just fooling around. Everyone but Kaz of course, he's in his desk chair drawing out some maps.

And they tell you you overwork! Hypocrites.

You open the window silently and you slip into the room unnoticed. You tiptoe over to Kaz's desk and you leap on top.

Kaz raises his eyebrow at you and you just shrug your shoulders, he probably had to stop anyways.

"You know there are other ways to get my attention other than acting like a child?"

"Oh, I know this is just more effective." You playfully respond.

Before Kaz could continue with the banter Jesper interject's just realizing you were here grabbing everyone's attention and placing it on you. Still not a fan of that.

"How the hell did you get from that rooftop to that window!" Jesper points outside in a slightly worried, big brother voice.

So you look him dead in the eyes and say; "I flew."

Jesper laughs along with the rest of The Crows but they stop at your deadpan look on your face.

"You didn't really?!"

"No, I didn't." You roll your eyes, "I didn't even think you knew that I did that."

Jesper comes over and wraps an arm around your shoulders and you immediately tense up.

"I do know some tricks! I am your older brother after all." His tone does get a few octaves of sombre at the end remembering the memories of how he didn't protect you before. But he's here now so you guess that's all matter's now.

You scoot off the desk out of his arm range but you do send him a sorry glance. The memories were just too much to handle sometimes. He just sends me a tiny knowing smile and nods and walk's off quietly (for the first time in his life) over to Wylan.

You watch everyone interact and it almost brings a smile to your face but something is missing and you wonder what it is.

Your question is quickly answered though as Kaz stands up beside you. His ungloved hand slowly garb's onto yours's and slowly you intertwine your fingers together.

"You really are the leader of a bunch of idiots." You say as Nina dares your brother to down a whole bucket paint.

"Yes, that's what it seems."

"But we love them." And for the first time in a while, you smile and it's not full-blown, it's tiny yet it has the whole galaxy in there.

"Yes, Yes I do." But Kaz isn't looking at The Crows he's looking at you.

Words 3517

-thedelusionreaderbitch

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