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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

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Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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candyskiez · 8 months

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so, you've heard shows be recommended because they had gay characters. you don't really know what they're actually about though, and don't know if they'd be something you'd be into and are worried about spoilers. here's spoiler free plot summaries of em!

The Owl House

The Owl House starts out as a typical teenage girl goes into a fantasy realm story, but with a twist. Actions have consequences. The protagonist is a girl named Luz Noceda, who was being sent to a camp to make her behave normally by her mother after causing too much trouble at school. She ends up finding a place she's always dreamed of: a fantasy world. A world where everyone's so much weirder than she is. And she thinks, maybe if I don't belong out there, maybe people will like me here. Maybe I can be special here.

It's a story about found family, propaganda, erased history, living with disability, religious trauma, and neurodivergence. It's fundamentally a show about people who's brains work differently finding each other and making a family that treats them right. Definitely my favorite of the ones on this list. It's about people who've been oppressed being pissed about it and about finding yourself again after giving up on everyone around you for so long. It's basically a show about being a minority and trying to be understood and to understand yourself in the process. It's about growing up neurodivergent and how isolating it feels and figuring yourself out. It's about repairing broken relationships and parents who fuck up. And it's just. Such a love letter to anyone who was the weird kid in school. It's sad and heartbreaking and also so hopeful, and it's wonderful.

Content warnings: Abuse, Death, Grief, Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, Vague suicide attempts, Depression, blink and you'll miss it s/h, body horror, religious trauma

She Ra and the Princesses Of Power

Adora was raised in the Horde since she was a baby, being fed propaganda about how cruel the princesses were. After learning how the horde actually was, though, she defects. But there's one problem. Her best friend, Catra, stays behind. Adora finds a sword that can transform her into She Ra, and might be the key to figuring out who she really is, while Catra takes her place as force captain.

It's a story about abuse, at the end of the day. Adora and Catra were stuck in a golden child and scapegoat dynamic, despite how much they care about each other. This leads to them knowing everything about each other but not understanding it. There's a fundamental disconnect between them, because both of their traumas are completely different. They have complete misconceptions about each other. Even in their initial split, they both have completely different perceptions of what's going on and why the other is upset. It's not a story about magic princesses, it's about the cycle of abuse and what makes it so complicated. Does it have flaws? Yeah. But ultimately I really really enjoy it, and when it does something right it does something RIGHT. Get through season one, it starts kids show-y but it gets very good during later s1.

Content warnings: Abuse (obviously), body horror, gaslighting (and I mean actual gaslighting, not what the Internet thinks gaslighting is), suicide, depression, flashing lights and eyestrain during the finale

Steven Universe

Steven Universe is a sins of the father story. Steven is the son of the leader of the rebel group The Crystal Gems, who's name was Rose Quartz. He navigates the confusion of being half gem and half human, as well as trying to figure out the mess of the rebellion and what his mother left behind. He's constantly in her shadow, for better or for worse.

It's a story about grief. How it impacts relationships, how it taints history, how it impacts family. It has some definite flaws, but ultimately it's about very flawed people who have lost so many people in their life trying to cope with it. Trying to handle what they lost and trying to adjust to life without them. It's about how expectations fuck a kid up and about agency and just a show about complicated relationships in general, at the end of the day. Also, it has some FANTASTIC music.

Content warnings: Grief, Abuse, body horror, very creepy people I don't know how to tag, heavy allegories for homophobia

Nimona

Nimona is a story about a guy who gets framed for murder. His name is Ballister Boldheart, a commoner who hoped to become a knight. It seemed everyone was waiting to watch him fail, so it was no surprise when he was the immediate target. Heavily injured and away from the man he loves, he's left alone trying to figure out a way to prove his innocence- until a strange kid comes into his life. This kids name is Nimona, and while he is intent on proving his innocence, she gave up on being anything but a villain a long time ago.

It's about deconstructing the model minority myth, trans rage, propaganda, and with a healthy dose of "FUCK the police".

Content warnings: Heavy injury, on screen suicide attempt, flashing lights

feel free to add more shows! just remember to keep the summaries as spoiler free as you can and add content warnings!

#show recommendations #movie recommendation #the owl house #toh #owl house #steven universe #shera #she ra #spop #nimona #queer #gay #lesbian #bisexual #trans #transgender #queer shows

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stheresya · 2 months

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"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight […]" (Sansa III, AGOT) “Wed?” Sansa was stunned. “You and my aunt?” “The Lord of Harrenhal and the Lady of the Eyrie.” You said it was my mother you loved. But of course Lady Catelyn was dead, so even if she had loved Petyr secretly and given him her maidenhood, it made no matter now. (Sansa VI, ASOS)

I find that these little passages reveal something interesting about sansa's personality. specially when you juxtapose how she's characterized in the text and her worldviews here, and how at first glance they may seem contradictory. but first, let's take two things into account:

the patriarchal society of westeros is very strict on women's sexuality. which means that not only is female virginity held in great value, but also female adultery is very firmly condemned by everyone, unlike men who are allowed to maintain public mistresses and flaunt their bastards everywhere.

sansa is characterized as the conformist, the one who internalizes her society's rules. she's very religious, she's a proper lady in every sense of the word and she often says and does exactly what she's told.

and yet, in these passages we can see that sansa does not care much about societal rules when it comes to intimate feelings. she often hails aemon and naerys' (supposed) forbidden love without a single care that queen naerys was bound by duty to a husband and aemon was meant to be loyal to his king. but most astonishing of all is her nonchalant response to petyr's (false) information that her mother was not a virgin when she married. on one hand it may speak on sansa's views towards women's sexuality, since her current friends (mya and randa) are girls who engage in sex out of wedlock, and she never judges them, just like she doesn't judge her mother for apparently doing the same, and catelyn continues to be the person she admires the most. sansa also doesn't view her parents' relationship any differently because of this, the marriage between ned and cat is still as happy as she remembers, because all that matters to her is that there was love in the home she grew up in. the thing about sansa's character is that she plays by the rules up until a certain point, but on the inside she always prioritizes emotion over societal norms, and that's why she looks more upset at petyr for marrying someone while claiming to love another, because in her mind he's being unfaithful to his heart by marrying out of practicality. we have examples that showcase sansa's prioritizing feelings in AGOT when she, the good daughter, disobeys her father for the first time because she thought she was in love with joffrey, and in ASOS where she never thinks she owes tyrion anything just because he's her husband. so it comes as no surprise that she's so infatuated with the love story of an adulterous and incestuous relationship like aemon and naerys'. one of the main themes in this series is that feelings don't care about honor. and if love is the death of duty then sansa seems more than happy to see duty killed for the sake of love.

of course this doesn't mean she'll stay that way, specially when she's already lost her so much of her innocence and is now tangled in petyr's schemes where she must set her own feelings aside in order to act on his plans. and despite her silent judgement of petyr marrying someone he didn't love, her current betrothal with harry is an entirely practical union on her part since she feels nothing for him and only sees him as a means to an end. there have been many instances since book 1 where she was able to turn off her feelings in order to withstand certain situations. so... what even is sansa's mind? an interesting universe on its own for sure.

I just think sansa's romanticism is one of her most interesting traits (for better and for worse), something that truly contributes to the distinctiveness of her character, and I really hope petyr or anyone else are unable to completely kill that in her.

#sansa stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #meta

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freeleyenrashespeakstruth · 1 year

Text

By Kitty Werthmann

“I am a witness to history.

“I cannot tell you that Hitler took Austria by tanks and guns; it would distort history.

If you remember the plot of the Sound of Music, the Von Trapp family escaped over the Alps rather than submit to the Nazis. Kitty wasn’t so lucky. Her family chose to stay in her native Austria. She was 10 years old, but bright and aware. And she was watching.

“We elected him by a landslide – 98 percent of the vote,” she recalls.

She wasn’t old enough to vote in 1938 – approaching her 11th birthday. But she remembers.

“Everyone thinks that Hitler just rolled in with his tanks and took Austria by force.”

No so.

Hitler is welcomed to Austria

“In 1938, Austria was in deep Depression. Nearly one-third of our workforce was unemployed. We had 25 percent inflation and 25 percent bank loan interest rates.

Farmers and business people were declaring bankruptcy daily. Young people were going from house to house begging for food. Not that they didn’t want to work; there simply weren’t any jobs.

“My mother was a Christian woman and believed in helping people in need. Every day we cooked a big kettle of soup and baked bread to feed those poor, hungry people – about 30 daily.’

“We looked to our neighbor on the north, Germany, where Hitler had been in power since 1933.” she recalls. “We had been told that they didn’t have unemployment or crime, and they had a high standard of living.

“Nothing was ever said about persecution of any group – Jewish or otherwise. We were led to believe that everyone in Germany was happy. We wanted the same way of life in Austria. We were promised that a vote for Hitler would mean the end of unemployment and help for the family. Hitler also said that businesses would be assisted, and farmers would get their farms back.

“Ninety-eight percent of the population voted to annex Austria to Germany and have Hitler for our ruler.

“We were overjoyed,” remembers Kitty, “and for three days we danced in the streets and had candlelight parades. The new government opened up big field kitchens and everyone was fed.

“After the election, German officials were appointed, and, like a miracle, we suddenly had law and order. Three or four weeks later, everyone was employed. The government made sure that a lot of work was created through the Public Work Service.

“Hitler decided we should have equal rights for women. Before this, it was a custom that married Austrian women did not work outside the home. An able-bodied husband would be looked down on if he couldn’t support his family. Many women in the teaching profession were elated that they could retain the jobs they previously had been re- quired to give up for marriage.

“Then we lost religious education for kids

“Our education was nationalized. I attended a very good public school.. The population was predominantly Catholic, so we had religion in our schools. The day we elected Hitler (March 13, 1938), I walked into my schoolroom to find the crucifix replaced by Hitler’s picture hanging next to a Nazi flag. Our teacher, a very devout woman, stood up and told the class we wouldn’t pray or have religion anymore. Instead, we sang ‘Deutschland, Deutschland, Uber Alles,’ and had physical education.

“Sunday became National Youth Day with compulsory attendance. Parents were not pleased about the sudden change in curriculum. They were told that if they did not send us, they would receive a stiff letter of warning the first time. The second time they would be fined the equivalent of $300, and the third time they would be subject to jail.”

And then things got worse.

“The first two hours consisted of political indoctrination. The rest of the day we had sports. As time went along, we loved it. Oh, we had so much fun and got our sports equipment free.

“We would go home and gleefully tell our parents about the wonderful time we had.

“My mother was very unhappy,” remembers Kitty. “When the next term started, she took me out of public school and put me in a convent. I told her she couldn’t do that and she told me that someday when I grew up, I would be grateful. There was a very good curriculum, but hardly any fun – no sports, and no political indoctrination.

“I hated it at first but felt I could tolerate it. Every once in a while, on holidays, I went home. I would go back to my old friends and ask what was going on and what they were doing.

“Their loose lifestyle was very alarming to me. They lived without religion. By that time, unwed mothers were glorified for having a baby for Hitler.

“It seemed strange to me that our society changed so suddenly. As time went along, I realized what a great deed my mother did so that I wasn’t exposed to that kind of humanistic philosophy.

“In 1939, the war started, and a food bank was established. All food was rationed and could only be purchased using food stamps. At the same time, a full-employment law was passed which meant if you didn’t work, you didn’t get a ration card, and, if you didn’t have a card, you starved to death.

“Women who stayed home to raise their families didn’t have any marketable skills and often had to take jobs more suited for men.

“Soon after this, the draft was implemented.

“It was compulsory for young people, male and female, to give one year to the labor corps,” remembers Kitty. “During the day, the girls worked on the farms, and at night they returned to their barracks for military training just like the boys.

“They were trained to be anti-aircraft gunners and participated in the signal corps. After the labor corps, they were not discharged but were used in the front lines.

“When I go back to Austria to visit my family and friends, most of these women are emotional cripples because they just were not equipped to handle the horrors of combat.

“Three months before I turned 18, I was severely injured in an air raid attack. I nearly had a leg amputated, so I was spared having to go into the labor corps and into military service.

“When the mothers had to go out into the work force, the government immediately established child care centers.

“You could take your children ages four weeks old to school age and leave them there around-the-clock, seven days a week, under the total care of the government.

“The state raised a whole generation of children. There were no motherly women to take care of the children, just people highly trained in child psychology. By this time, no one talked about equal rights. We knew we had been had.

“Before Hitler, we had very good medical care. Many American doctors trained at the University of Vienna..

“After Hitler, health care was socialized, free for everyone. Doctors were salaried by the government. The problem was, since it was free, the people were going to the doctors for everything.

“When the good doctor arrived at his office at 8 a.m., 40 people were already waiting and, at the same time, the hospitals were full.

“If you needed elective surgery, you had to wait a year or two for your turn. There was no money for research as it was poured into socialized medicine. Research at the medical schools literally stopped, so the best doctors left Austria and emigrated to other countries.

“As for healthcare, our tax rates went up to 80 percent of our income. Newlyweds immediately received a $1,000 loan from the government to establish a household. We had big programs for families.

“All day care and education were free. High schools were taken over by the government and college tuition was subsidized. Everyone was entitled to free handouts, such as food stamps, clothing, and housing.

“We had another agency designed to monitor business. My brother-in-law owned a restaurant that had square tables.

“Government officials told him he had to replace them with round tables because people might bump themselves on the corners. Then they said he had to have additional bathroom facilities. It was just a small dairy business with a snack bar. He couldn’t meet all the demands.

“Soon, he went out of business. If the government owned the large businesses and not many small ones existed, it could be in control.

“We had consumer protection, too

“We were told how to shop and what to buy. Free enterprise was essentially abolished. We had a planning agency specially designed for farmers. The agents would go to the farms, count the livestock, and then tell the farmers what to produce, and how to produce it.

“In 1944, I was a student teacher in a small village in the Alps. The villagers were surrounded by mountain passes which, in the winter, were closed off with snow, causing people to be isolated.

“So people intermarried and offspring were sometimes retarded. When I arrived, I was told there were 15 mentally retarded adults, but they were all useful and did good manual work.

“I knew one, named Vincent, very well. He was a janitor of the school. One day I looked out the window and saw Vincent and others getting into a van.

“I asked my superior where they were going. She said to an institution where the State Health Department would teach them a trade, and to read and write. The families were required to sign papers with a little clause that they could not visit for 6 months.

“They were told visits would interfere with the program and might cause homesickness.

“As time passed, letters started to dribble back saying these people died a natural, merciful death. The villagers were not fooled. We suspected what was happening. Those people left in excellent physical health and all died within 6 months. We called this euthanasia.

“Next came gun registration. People were getting injured by guns. Hitler said that the real way to catch criminals (we still had a few) was by matching serial numbers on guns. Most citizens were law-abiding and dutifully marched to the police station to register their firearms. Not long afterwards, the police said that it was best for everyone to turn in their guns. The authorities already knew who had them, so it was futile not to comply voluntarily.

“No more freedom of speech. Anyone who said something against the government was taken away. We knew many people who were arrested, not only Jews, but also priests and ministers who spoke up.

“Totalitarianism didn’t come quickly, it took 5 years from 1938 until 1943, to realize full dictatorship in Austria. Had it happened overnight, my countrymen would have fought to the last breath. Instead, we had creeping gradualism. Now, our only weapons were broom handles. The whole idea sounds almost unbelievable that the state, little by little eroded our freedom.”

“This is my eyewitness account.

“It’s true. Those of us who sailed past the Statue of Liberty came to a country of unbelievable freedom and opportunity.

“America is truly is the greatest country in the world. “Don’t let freedom slip away.

“After America, there is no place to go.”

Kitty Werthmann

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starryschoolgirl · 6 months

Text

Good Husbandry

Summary -> While you view preparing for your honeymoon as finding all the hottest destinations in Honolulu for tourists, Elvis knows that he must help you, his soon-to-be virgin bride, understand all that comes with the honeymoon. What a good man he is, to give you a little hands-on lesson on what good husbandry is.

Warnings -> Lovely domestic things, innocence/purity kink, religious undertones, smut, just the tip trope, hinted breeding kink, swearing, Elvis gets a little rough, mention of RFK's assassination, the reader is overbearingly sheltered when it comes to topics like sex, cum eating, fantasies of "ruining" a girl's vagina, there's definitely some plot here I won't lie, loved writing this a little too much.

WC -> 7.3k

A/N -> This is an installation of the Baby Love AU. Find Masterlist Here!

The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotion for everyone. Elvis was doing press conferences for the NBC special he was about to start filming for, and while you usually go with him, with the recent assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, it was decided unanimously that it would be best if you were at home.

Elvis would have liked to keep you by his side, but given your family’s public connection to the Kennedys he knew that the press might behave in an uncalled for manner toward you.

It was also to be noted that he’d been very patient with you the entire week, after all you did know the man. He was a close family friend, a lot closer to your father, mother, and older brother than you. But there were still tears shed a few nights ago when it had occurred.

Most of that week you sat around the current California home, keeping the couch company like you were the prettiest of pillows as you spent most of your time on the telephone with your hysterical mother and being soothed by your childhood nanny who now watched your younger brother. You’d decided to write a letter to Ethel, she was no doubt being bombarded with phone calls from press and other family with the recent death of her husband.

It was a rough way to start the month, it was only 6 days into June when something as tragic as that had occurred.

You were certain things would change in regards to the guest list of your wedding just a little over a week away, for one you could understandably count on the possible absence of Ethel Kennedy and her children. Aside from her it wasn’t Elvis’ side you were worried about, because when Elvis says jump they all say “how high?”. It was your own side that worried you.

You knew it was selfish and stupid to be thinking of that at a time like this, those poor Kennedys have been through so much. But you couldn’t help the worrisome thoughts that lingered in your mind. Your parents already didn’t approve of Elvis all that much, with the influx of emotion that this event caused they might just cancel all together and then you’ll be left without anyone from your own family.

And that alone could cause an emotional storm to brew in Elvis. He always expressed his own disdain for your family, but you knew there was guilt deep down that he felt. And if he realized that he were the reason your wedding day went without family, he would be angry with you and himself. But that was only because he felt things very deeply, he was caring in that way.

So you made sure the past few days to get in as much reading as possible, so that even if your wedding doesn’t end up being the dream you hoped for, that your knowledge of your honeymoon destination would make up for it.

It had to be perfect. You had to be perfect.

"We better get up and get changed soon..."

You hummed absently at Elvis' words as your eyes continued to skim along the page.

"Wouldn't want the rest of the boys seein' ya in ya nightie"

You hummed once more at whatever he had said, much too focused on your book to pay much mind. Elvis noticed this and laughed softly as he asked,

"What are ya readin' Honey?"

You looked up from the book that you had been enthralled in for the past half-hour to see Elvis staring at you over one of his religious books, he had a crooked smile and a quirked eyebrow, his facial expression likely from the fact that you were actually reading a book.

You smiled cheekily and crawled closer to him on the bed, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you quickly card your floral bookmark in between the pages you were on before closing it and presenting it to Elvis, your fiancé.

"It's a book all about Hawaii, it has some of the best secret locations on all the islands, including Oahu"

You smiled up at him as his eyes scrolled to look over at you then at the book, a smirk playing on his lips as he did so. He set his book down on his lap to grab yours, one of his fingers tracing over the cover as he murmured honestly,

"Well Babylove, I don't think these locations are all too secret anymore considerin' the book is 7 years old"

You hummed softly at the statement. Truthfully you only picked the book off the shelf because one, it said Hawaii which is the place you and Elvis were planning to be your honeymoon destination, and secondly, it was pink.

Elvis shook his head fondly and brought a hand up to ruffle your hair, thankfully at the moment there were no rings on his fingers to pluck and pull at the strands of your hair. With that in mind you happily leaned into the touch like a cat getting its fix from its owner.

You roll your body closer, dragging one leg over Elvis' legs as if he were one of those long body pillows. You snuggled your face into his chest, feeling the silky fabric of his short ascot scarf. He'd recently begun wearing them often, you didn't mind it because you could tug him by his scarf whenever you wanted a kiss.

Your voice was soft and murmured into the fabric, "I wanna start our marriage off right, our honeymoon has to be perfect, and this book,”

You pull back for a moment to grab the book and open it to the first page. Elvis watches with an amused smile as your dainty little finger flies across the dust-colored pages to the sentence that you read aloud,

"These spots will guarantee a sweet time with that special someone"

Elvis’ voice is laced with harmless sarcasm (that you don’t quite catch) as he says,

“Oh well if the book says so, it has to be true”

You then excitedly close the book and show Elvis the back cover, where a quote from what must've been a review was laid out in bold, "Has the hottest places for America’s hottest honeymoon destination"

Elvis laughed softly. His arm wraps around your shoulder as his hand runs up and down your back, calluses grazing the delicate fabric of your satin nightie with a scratching sound before taking its rest on the curve of your ass. He explains, "Well little one, there's a bit more to honeymoons and marriage than that"

Your eyebrow quirks in the way you learned from watching Elvis' own eyebrow within the span of your relationship. It looked as if you were suspicious of Elvis, thinking he was trying to pull the wool over your eyes.

With a gentle hand Elvis removed the book from your hand and set it on the nightstand where he then set his own book on as well. You laughed softly as Elvis’ hands pulled you into your place, till you straddled his lap innocently for him to explain something,

“Well Babylove, a big part of marriage and honeymoonin’ is good husbandry.”

You go silent for a second, thinking to yourself as your fingers trace little shapes on Elvis’ chest absentmindedly. When you come to the conclusion that you’re clueless on the subject you ask,

“What’s husbandry?”

Elvis’ hands run along your sides, running up to your ribs, down to your hips, then repeating their cycle, it was in his own absentmindedness that he did it as he explained,

“Well, husbandry is kind of cultivatin’ and makin’ use of land, sorta like plantin’ a seed and takin’ care of it.”

“Like farmers do?”

“Very good girl, like farmers do. Now ya see, that comes into play within things like marriage and honeymoons. To be a farmer, the first thing ya gotta do is plant a seed, then ya get your farm goin’ and everythin’ is just dandy as long as you keep takin’ care of that seed.”

You nodded your head along to what he was saying, it made sense. But what did that have to do with your honeymoon?

“Just as that goes, to be a husband, you also gotta plant a seed. So ya see, in marriage, instead of a farmer plantin’ a seed, it’s the husband who plants the seed, and he plants it right in your petals”

You grimaced with embarrassment as you heard Elvis mention your “petals”. Such talk was still very new to you. Having been raised by the church most of your life, and having only attended catholic private schools, you’d been taught that such talk was deplorable and vulgar.

Elvis seemed to be trying to undo all their teaching as he was very free and open with topics such as that one.

He could see the way your face began to dust a precious pink along your cheeks as you stared down at your hands scrunching up his shirt’s fabric within them. He couldn’t help but adore his sweet girl and lift your chin to take in the entirety of your innocence, the privilege of being innocent and naive having been fed to you with a silver spoon since you were a baby with your family’s fortune.

Your education didn’t span too far, it was done under the assumption that you’d be protected from the roughness of the world, the riff-raff. And though Elvis was a fair match monetarily-wise to your parents and the people you were raised around,with enough money to keep you as far away from the world’s roughness as possible, he was still considered to be in that riff-raff crowd.

Oh, what a shame for your family and the rest of your upper-class culture to have a rare purity, like you whisked away from your family made up of good breeding and a pure bloodline by a man like Elvis who would screw it all up when he one day planted his seed into your womb, making your once purebred French bloodline his own as he mixed himself into the history of your DNA to make a child that you will carry for months.

A child you will love to no end while your ancestors roll over in their graves.

Just the thought of it all made Elvis giddy.

His smile is cheeky as he grabs one of your nervous hands to soothe you while also keeping a grip on your chin with his other hand, his voice is breathy from speaking through a laugh,

“Now don’t let me lose ya, still got some splainin’ to do”

You can’t help but continue to duck your head away into your shoulder to hide your embarrassment, till Elvis pulls you out of it with his sweet little nickname for you,

“C’mon now Bubbles, need ya to keep listenin’ f’me”

You look up to meet those dark blues of Elvis’ that pierce with a strange softness.

“To seal the marriage a man plants his seed in a woman, and from then on he has to take care of that woman, that’s good husbandry. That’s part of what happens on a honeymoon. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and mumble a soft, “I understand”, before laying yourself down on Elvis, making yourself comfortable as you lay your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso, somehow squeezing their way between Elvis' frame and the mattress.

Marriage seemed scary. Ever since you had gotten engaged to Elvis you felt a different weight begin to fall on your shoulders. And though you were excited to marry Elvis, you couldn’t help but remember how your mother described marriage to be with your father.

As Elvis dragged his hands along your body tracing every poke of a bone through your skin he closed his eyes, showing his affection through the action, you thought back to how marriage was represented to you as a little girl.

There were nights when your father stayed late for work that you’d sit on the floor between your mother's legs as she sat on the sofa, by then she would be nursing her 4th glass of wine that night, and let her braid your hair before bed.

You’d whimper softly as her diamond-littered gaudy engagement ring, which was comparable to the one you now owned, would catch on some strands of your hair. But you wouldn’t voice any complaint as she was too busy voicing her own, complaining to an 8-year-old you about your father’s “wandering eye”, how he loves work more than he loves his family, and that he can’t even function without a pill, in what sense she meant “function” you’d never know, because you only saw your father as a personal superhero. The man who would bring gifts like Santa, the man who would read you to bed on the rare nights he could, the man who held the whole world in his hand every time he held you.

You didn’t recognize the man your mother would drunkenly describe. And soon after you wouldn’t recognize your own mother as she would break into tears and talk about how it’s her fault, and that she knows it all falls on her to make the marriage work, she just needs to try harder.

You’d caress her knee and try to soothe the adult, “It’s okay Mommy”, while mustering up the courage to promise her that, “It’ll be okay”

And then at the end of the night, she would turn you around and slur with as much affection as she could muster,

“Always tend to your husband Sweetie, don’t make a prude of yourself like me, don’t make a nagging wife, be pleasant and pliant and you’ll be a happy wife”

Of course you weren’t married yet, and that might’ve been what was causing you to be such a worrywart, because you were scared of the unknown. That’s why you’ve been trying your best to find ways to start the marriage off in the best way possible.

But you now had a whole other thing to worry about perfecting, husbandry.

It would all work out though, as long as you heed your mother’s words and be a pleasant, pliant wife, you’ll be just fine, and you’re confident that Elvis would never turn out to be the kind of husband that your mother described your father to be.

You mumbled into the fabric of Elvis’ shirt,

“How does a man plant his seed in a woman?”

Elvis’ hands came to a halt at your words. He thought he’d gone over this kind of thing with you before, then again there was never much need to. You never prodded for more than you were given, because you were simply unaware there was more you could get out of the pleasures of your body.

Elvis stared down at the top of your head as you kept your cheek resting on his chest, he realized how abstract your thoughts must’ve been compared to his within your relationship. He had spent countless nights holding himself back from making you his completely, there were so many times he easily could’ve done so. So many times you put yourself in the position to be vulnerable to the disgusting thought of a man who knew the pleasures you could give.

Had Elvis been a different man he would’ve done so by now, taken you shamelessly and left you crumpled on the floor next to your crumpled up clothes.

But he’d be reigned back by the thought that God wouldn’t make something like you, something so pure and holy, for sin. Had Elvis not been a god-fearing man he would’ve had his way with you.

All those nights he spent eating you out, listening to you finally break that voice box of yours in, the only thing he’d thought about was how much louder you would be when he could finally fuck you, meanwhile you thought that the sensation guided by Elvis’ tongue that momentarily blinded you was as good as it got, was as close as you’d get to God.

Oh Elvis could show you so much more, teach you so much more, touch you so much more. And as shameful as it is, he’d be a liar if he said that the fact that he wanted to be the one deflower you didn’t play a role in your engagement.

“I could show ya how it’s done Honey, would ya be alright with that? It’s a little different from anything we’ve ever done”

You sat up on his lap and nodded as you kept a hand to support yourself up on his stomach. He basked in the sight of you with a small smile, digging his hands through your hair like roots in the dirt, so deep and entangled it could be hard to tell where your hair began and his hands ended.

It wasn’t at all painful in the way your mother’s hands used to rest in your hair during her drunken stupor.

It was gentle as Elvis always was.

He used a gentle force to pull you close enough for him to press a kiss to your forehead for a moment and hold it there, you closed your eyes and let out a breath, any stiff stress in your body leaving at the touch of Elvis’ lips.

He pulled away, lips and hands.

“Lay down Baby”

Elvis patted your side of the bed and you quickly laid down as you usually would, and with a quick fwip of his hips Elvis’ knees rested just outside your thighs, his entire body hovering above yours as he reached over to your nightstand.

You heard the clink of glass, no doubt the two glass figurines you’d had since you were a child, your voice was soft but panicked as you felt a pang of protectiveness over your childhood trinkets.

“W-What are you doing?”

His response was immediate as he knew your sentimental feelings toward your figurines,

“It’s alright Honey, jus’ turnin’ Dottie and Lottie around”

“Oh.”

You let out a sigh of relief before having a blush spread like a wildfire in the summer across your cheeks. When Elvis had first touched you, you felt the need to turn your glass figurines Dolores and Charlotte, also known as Dottie and Lottie, around before he could continue any further. When he asked you why you could only mumble a quiet explanation about wanting to preserve their innocence. Elvis didn’t mind the strange gesture, he thought it was rather cute actually, it was something so girlish and sweet, something he’d never think of, it further instituted that you really were an endearing little girl.

And ever since then anytime Elvis touched you, he’d always turn your figurines toward the wall for you. And him doing it now meant that to plant his seed in you, he had to touch you.

You close your eyes as you relax into the mattress completely, and feel a shift in the bed then the cold air began to linger up your nightie, or rather Elvis made your nightie linger up your skin, giving way for him to view the cutely contrasting color of your pastel yellow panties to your pastel blue short satin nightie.

As the bed shifted a little more you allowed Elvis to part your legs so he could slide off the piece of fabric, his hands caressing the skin of your ankles a few seconds longer than the rest of your leg, and then he intricately removed your panties off your feet he laid them on the outside of your thigh, within arm's length.

You assumed what you’d be feeling next was what you always felt whenever he touched you, those calloused fingers of his walking their way up your thighs as he made himself comfortable right between the two limbs, his mouth and nose inches away from that bundle of nerves that he so lovingly explained was the bud of your little rose.

His fingers would then drift down to what he called the petals of your rose, separating them gently, exposing your hole to the cold air of the room making you shiver like the scared little girl you were as he did so. But he liked it, liked how visceral all your reactions were from your inexperience.

Only this time, you’d been wrong as you heard the familiar shink of his belt, and as if you were a trained dog and his belt were a clicker, your eyes shot open as you knew what that sound meant. It meant you got to do the touching, but, why were your panties off if you were doing the touching?

As you sat up you saw Elvis shucking his pants and boxers down, you watched with a blush as you saw his dick, it wasn’t yet completely hard, it more so at half-staff if anything, with that it maintained enough loose skin so that the usual image of his veins bulging profusely through the thin skin was not a sight you’d yet see, but you could change that.

As you sat up with your legs still spread enough so that Elvis once he was free of his pants was able to swiftly kneel between them. You leaned forward with an eager hand but Elvis had caught your wrist before you’d made it to your target, you batted your eyelashes up at him in confusion.

“Elvis?”

He had a crooked smile on his lips and asked, “Don’t ya remember what ya gotta do first? C’mon Hon we’ve been over this a dozen times”. You had to think for a moment but felt flushed with embarrassment at your own mistake.

Elvis’ eyebrow ticked upward as he caught your realization, then he slowly raised your hand up to your mouth for you to lick a stripe along it. When he didn’t immediately pull away you knew to keep lapping at the skin till Elvis saw it suitable.

His head tilted down a little as he made eye-contact with you through the cracks of your fingers, staring at you as you licked lines of wet along the lines of your palm, he was mumbling a praise or too like “There ya go”, and “Just like that”. You only shut your mouth as his free hand came up to cup your cheek and gently push you back from your hand.

With your newfound view of his cock it definitely looked less limp than before but Elvis had taught you how to get it standing, and you wanted to show him that you could. He’d been loosening the reins lately and had been giving you more independence to touch him in the way you knew he liked. But at the perfect moments he’d step in and be a helping hand, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he showed you what kind of pace he liked when his dick twitched a specific way.

It was him helping you build this muscle memory that was slowly etching its way into your brain, on the walls of your skull, and in the nerves of your hand

With the softest of groans leaving Elvis’ mouth your eyes shot up from his cock that maintained the attention of your palm, wanting to see his face, see the preview of your own triumph as you continued to stroke with the pace his hand guided yours along.

His smile was gone as his mouth twisted slightly to let out the low noise, he licked his lips quickly and tightened his hold on your hand, in turn tightening your hold on his cock as he ran your palm up and down it, your voice was hesitant and soft as you questioned, “L-Like that Elvis? I do it like that…”

He hummed an affirmation and mumbled, “Keep at it”, before pulling his hand off yours, leaning back on the bed on his palms while watching you with lowered lids, had they been any lower they would’ve been closed.

You tried shuffling yourself closer by planting your heels into the mattress and scooting yourself closer, but it was hard to focus on both things. You didn’t want to louse up what a good job you were doing, but you felt you could do better if you were just a little closer.

Elvis must’ve read your inner turmoil as he leaned off his palms and cupped the back of your knees with each hand, pulling you closer at the top of your calves where they connected with your thighs. As you continued with your strokes you noticed how close you now were, your bare pussy had never been so close to Elvis’ cock.

With the realization a strange curiosity shot through you, a kind of curiosity that had filled your senses one of the first times you’d sat on Elvis’s lap. He kept you on one knee easily, and it had been the leg that he often bounced absentmindedly, and as he easily bounced you on his leg you felt a weird sensation, and that damned curiosity of yours got the best of you subtly shifted on his leg, and suddenly the jumbling of your legs on his knee had shifted to a jumbling on a small bundle of nerves between your legs.

No you wouldn’t let your curiosity get the best of you again, you wouldn’t.

As Elvis pulled his hands away from your legs he leaned back on one palm and the other he reached forward to rub that very bundle of nerves you’d just been thinking of about. Just the slightest bit of force made your body react with what could be described as a convulsion as you breathed out a noise of surprise.

Elvis’ almost dazed look on his face didn’t shift as he glided his calloused thumb down between your folds, scooping up whatever was beginning to wet them, then using it as a lubricant to give your clit a good rub down, his facial expression unwavering as he watched you twitch and struggle to focus on doing a good job.

His voice was low and almost sounded slurred as he mumbled,

“Now this is hard ain’t it Honey? Tryin’ to pleasure each other at the same time?”

Your face shrunk and your lip quivered as you tried to maintain that you wouldn’t break under the sensations of it all, wanting to do good.

Upon gaining no answer Elvis’ eyes glazed up to meet yours, they now shifted to sympathy as he reassured you gently with little circles of his thumb around your bud,

“It’s alright Baby, I know it. I know it’s hard, that’s why through marriage a man can plant his seed in a woman, makes it easier y’know? A man can help you while he helps himself, ya shouldn’t have t’be doin’ work Honey”

You don’t know when you started nodding along to his words, you hardly understood them, but the way his eyebrows arched, the way his lips curled, the way his voice drew out, he seemed like he knew everything in the world. He was so in his element that you wouldn’t question it if he told you a cat were a dog.

But you had to ask, through your soft pants and whimpers, “H-how?” How was it possible to both be pleasured at the same time? How was it possible for both of you to reach that special spot just between the earth and the heavens where all felt impossibly right?

Elvis’ lips grew to a smirk once more as he removed his thumb from your clit and his hand wrapped around yours to pull you away. As you looked down you saw that familiar sight, that thin skin stretched out to show that long vein that started at the side of his dick and traveled down the center.

His other hand ran up your calf, to your thigh just to rest on your stomach, still covered by the top of your satin nightie, and with a firm force and a, “Lie back f’me” you were laid down on the bed with your legs spread.

He spread them a little further, and you watched as best you could while still laying down, craning your neck painfully to see what he was doing as he made a ring out of his thumb and index finger.

Elvis’ eyes met with yours, making sure you were watching before lining the tip of his cock up with the little makeshift hole he made of his fingers for demonstration.

“When a man plants his seed, he fills you with himself. This right here,” He lifted the little ring he’d made of two fingers, “This is like that little hole between your petals, so what I’m gonna do is fill it just slightly,” he slid the ring over the tip of his cock, leaving you to watch with a mouth slightly agape as his movement stretches the foreskin.

It’s not like when you stroke him though, he stops much too short, and doesn’t even go near the base of his cock, he ends at the base of the tip only.

“Now, this much is just till the wedding Hon. We can only do just the tippy top Baby, can’t break ya in just yet, we gotta wait till we’re unified under God to make that kinda connection-”

“...cause it’s special”

Elvis looked up at you, surprised to hear your soft voice so suddenly, it seems the words left your mouth with a little thoughtful pout. God, let this man hold back today. Let him be graceful and kind to his babylove, Elvis thought to himself as he smiled softly and hummed,

“Yes it is sweet girl, it’s somethin’ special”

As a moment of sweet silence filled the air the two of you made eye contact, you smiled, feeling unsure of what was to come, he smiled back knowingly.

“Are ya ready Babylove?”

You bit your lower lip nervously and could only nod with trusting eyes. Elvis’ figure suddenly shut out most of the light from the ceiling as he supported his body above yours with one hand while he used his other to line up the tip of his cock.

You let out a shaky breath as he parted your fold with the tip of his cock before running it along your leaking slit. From the bottom up past the top till he hit that bundle of nerves that he could find with a blindfold. You squeaked softly at the bit of force he was using to circle your clit with his cock.

Elvis swore he’d do everything with you in mind, but as he watched the way your big eyes would crinkle to little bouts of eyelid folds and as he saw the way your lip quiver with every squeak and breath you let out, he couldn’t help himself but gauge your reaction to a little something.

Your breaths came out one by one in panic as you suddenly felt the tip of his cock begin to bat around your little bundle of nerves from the top, from side to side, even attacking from the bottom. Your eyes shot open from their little crinkles of stress and just before you could open your mouth his little batting around of your sensitive bud turned to slowed drawn out circles rubbing along the edge.

“That feels good huh Honey? It’s gonna get even better, just need ya to relax. Uh huh, that’s good, you’re doin’ good”

You relaxed into it, your jaw falling slack and your breaths coming out shallow. As you sank into that warmth that always accompanied Elvis’ gentle touch, Elvis pulled his neck back slightly to get a better look at your hole, with your folds parted he had a perfect view if he could look past his cock. He craned his neck a little to the left and found the target, wide open from your relaxed state, he licked his thumb to lubricate it and like a veteran, he navigated his cock down and at the forefront of it as his thumb took its place and pace in circling your clit, had you not been watching through lidded eyes you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Here it come Baby, here it come”

Elvis couldn’t even look at you to gauge your reaction as his head fell back immediately as he was engulfed by your heat. Somewhere in the distance he heard a high-pitched noise but he was too high on the feeling- No, the knowledge that the first thing to fill you, to really fill you was his uncut cock’s head.

He breathed out to the ceiling, or rather to the Lord,

“Fuck…”

How could a feeling like this fill his mind, body, and soul from just the tip going in. Shit if he hadn’t already proposed to you he would do it now, just so he could one day feel the full effect of your body on his.

And then he finally peered down at you, and you were a sight to behold. He hadn’t been with a virgin in a long time, and the ones he had been with, you made them look like the most experienced girls in the world.

Your face was crumpled and your clenched fist was brought up to your mouth, you bit down so hard on your knuckles Elvis could see the skin losing its color around your little teeth. His hand slid down to your hip, running along the skin soothingly, as he hummed out, “Relax, it’s alright, just relax”

You nodded and pulled your fist from your mouth to show you were relaxing, but as your lower lip trembled Elvis could only softly remind, “Relax…”

And after a few moments of Elvis running his hands along your hips you spoke in an unsure whisper, “I-Is that it?”, Elvis sighed with a smile, “No Hon, don’t worry, but I can’t show ya the rest till ya relax, alright?” Elvis could feel you tightly around him, if he tried to pull the head of his cock back out he’d hurt you, he knew that.

"I-I am relaxed"

“No ya not Babylove”

You sighed softly, feeling a bit frustrated, this wasn’t what you thought it would be, it hurt. And it was obvious that you weren’t acting in the most pleasing way, so you lied through your teeth with a bit of an edge to your quiet words, “I’m relaxed.”

Elvis’ soft smile fell slightly at the tone of voice, and his eyebrows rose as he stared down at you, only now you avoided eye contact and opted to look at the wall. You tried to focus on the paint of the wall as best you can but it was thrown out the door as you felt a painful pull.

You whined at the feeling, and watched as Elvis pulled out, now you attempted to look him in the eye but he didn’t even spare you a glance as he muttered before lining himself up again, “Call that fuckin’ relaxed? If you’re so relaxed it should be easy goin’ back in”

Before you could voice an apology he’d already shoved the tip back in. It was much rougher than the first time he had put it in, it had you release a loud whimper and kick your feet, your heels pushing you away from his body, but his hips only chased further.

And those hands that were soothingly rubbing along your hips earlier now had them in a bruising grip to keep you from moving.

“Said ya relaxed, so fuckin’ act like it-”

Elvis let out a low groan as he stroked his cock while your little hole contracted from the stress of it all, it was like you were trying to swallow him, trying to suck him down into you. Almost like your body knew you needed his seed. And had he been a different man, or more accurately, had you been a different girl, he would’ve given it to you without shame. But you were different, you were special, you made this special.

He pulled out once more just to push back in, and then he repeated with no time in between, leaving you gasping at the rough push and pull of his cock head and whining at it, before blubbering out a series of apologies to him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ‘m not relaxed..! I-It hurts Elvis..!”

He’d ignored your apologies, but the way you said his name, like he could solve all your problems while also causing all of them, it was like you had this type of innocence. A pure innocence that no matter the pain he’d cause you, you’d still love him. Like if he kicked you, you’d come running right back.

Elvis stopped himself from pulling out once more and stared down at you, his grip released and one of his hands cupped your cheek and rested a thumb at the corner of your eye just before your temple, ready to catch a tear in case those teary eyes of yours spill over.

You stared up at him with a frown and pulled your hands to rest nervously on your stomach, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness mixed with discomfort at the idea of Elvis being upset with you. But instead he seemed to sympathize with you,

“Now you see, ya gotta listen to me Babylove. I don’t expect much from ya, all I expect is honesty, now, be honest and let me know when you relax.”

You let out a shaky breath and soft noise as Elvis’ thumb landed back on your clit, beginning to rub those circles that make your hips twist a little from instinct. Elvis’ lips had been on yours in the blink of an eye, but his kiss was deep and slow, it wasn’t like when he’d kiss you so hard and so fast that your teeth knocked against his. Instead you felt his tongue explore each and every inch of your mouth carefully, could feel the way his tongue swiped along the small space between your lower gums and teeth.

His nose lightly grazed against the start of your cheek as he tilted his head to get a different angle.

And in what would be one of the only moments for you to catch your breath within the kiss, you managed to breath out, “‘M ready”

It was a different kind of tug due to the efforts of the both of you. You were relaxed and open and Elvis was only rocking back and forth into you, no complete pulling, you couldn’t handle that yet.

With each rock of his hips, you let out a little breath or squeak. For a moment you lost focus as you watched the way Elvis used the thumb on one hand to stroke your little bud while using his other hand to stroke himself, but you were pulled back into your moment with Elvis as he groaned lowly, followed by a groan that sounded a bit more throaty. He was close.

And knowing that it was because he was in you made you feel a sense of excitement, and sense of sexuality, realizing you could make a man feel this way by doing nothing but laying there like a pliant doll.

Be a pliant wife. Your mother was right.

Your hips dragged upward slightly, crashing into his hips that were rocking down into you, the collision of skin made you moan softly as your manicured nails reached for the sheets, one hand gripped them brutally while your other hand ended up in Elvis' hair, not gripping, only carding through the dark strands.

“E-Elvis, it’s- I’m…”

You couldn’t describe it, what was coming, but thankfully you didn’t have to as he mumbled into your lips,

“I know Baby, I know. It’s comin’ f’me to, comin’ fast Babylove- H-how’s it comin’ for you?”

As the upward grind of your hips turned to little upward thrusts that your feet could manage on the slippery sheets of the bed you could hardly choke out a word as his thumb had entertained that warmth just below your stomach for too long, it’d been teased and tugged along far too long from the rubbing of his thumb on your little bundle of nerves that at its peaking point, it snapped, leaving you to try and choke out the words,

“It- I- It’s-”

As your mouth remained agape but your voice fell silent, and those pitiful attempts at thrusts of yours fell back to wishful grinds of your hips. Elvis thanked the Lord, he’d been trying his best to hold on for you, to slow his rocking when he felt himself get a little too close, he’d been edging himself almost the entire time for you.

And now as he pulled out and continued to stroke his cock with one hand, the hand previously fondling your clit reached for the pair of panties he laid aside so long ago.

As you caught your breath you watched as Elvis’ hand stroked twice, thrice, four more times along his length before he buried his cock in your crumpled up panties, letting his head fall back and a guttural moan fill the room as he reached his peak.

After a few moments of silence accompanied by the pants of the both of you Elvis removed the metal ring holding his short ascot scarf together at the center of his neck, you heard a clink as he tossed it somewhere on the wood floor, then you watched as the fabric got closer to your face, closing your eyes at the contact you could feel Elvis wiping away the dampness building on your head and cheeks from the heat what you just experienced. As the feeling left you watched as he wiped his own face off before bringing the satin scarf down to your petals, wiping off the proof of your pleasure from your pussy’s lips then wiping off your thighs that happened to be the victims of the heated juices that spread through your body which were shoveled out from the earlier pulls of Elvis’ cock’s head.

After Elvis caught his breath and pulled the panties away from his cock to see his work, then he flipped it toward you, and you saw that familiar white liquid that Elvis told you was a reward for your hard work.

“When we get married and I fill you with my seed, this is what I’ll be fillin’ ya with, I promise…”

Your eyes were lidded and tired, but full of love as you took in the sight of your fiancé, his once perfectly coiffed hair now ruffled, you could see sweat stains forming on the blue silk shirt he didn’t bother to take off before starting, and those eyelashes of his must’ve been batting so much as he now had a stray on his cheek, he must’ve missed it with his scarf.

As Elvis prepped your reward, scraping it off the pastel fabric with a finger you parted your lips, and as he finger-fed you his seed you accepted the finger into your mouth, closing your lips around it as you sucked it clean. “Atta girl, did so well”

Your own little finger guided up his cheek to swipe the eyelash off his cheek, he watched with confusion at the way you smiled around his finger, then you flipped your finger around to show him.

As he crawled over your body to lay down beside you, removing his finger in the process you spoke with a bit of hoarseness, “Make a wish”

Elvis smiled fondly and put a hand over your thigh, “You can have this one Babylove”

You smiled before checking once more, “Are you sure?”

He wanted to laugh at how serious you were taking it all, and with a gentle rub of his hand he reassured, “I’m sure Honey, I’m sure”

You smiled down at the little eyelash resting on the middle of your index finger. And you wished for all that you could want, you wished for a happy marriage.

I had so much fun!! I really liked writing this, and I'm so happy I've had requests to write this character to the point I can turn it into a whole au!! hope you liked it.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!

@fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat here it is lovelies

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YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

05 — i'll meet the judgement by the hounds.

chapter summary — a fool and a coward, that's the realisation you had come to.

tags / cw — no smut, fluff, a bit domestic honestly, basically reader's drunk and simon takes care of you, bittersweet, simon opens up... a bit, angst, suicidal thoughts, very subtle religious references if they even count as one, simon's in denial and reader is on the verge of losing it all. [4k words]

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

Simon had come to the conclusion that you were a snake, and your love was your poison. Maybe he really was a coward for being afraid to let your venom drown into his veins.

“Remind me to never take you out for drinking again.”

If it weren’t for Simon holding you carefully against him and walking through the street, you’d surely have collapsed on the ground all drunk and worse, thrown up by now.

It was a little mistake. One drink became two, and then three. You had forgotten about your tolerance, and here you were now. It’s all because of Simon. That’s what your excuse was, blaming it all on him. Which was true in all honesty, you had gotten too excited about this little hangout.

“You’ll never go out with me again?” Completely mishearing his words, you looked up at him with wide eyes, tears already approaching. Yeah, you were completely drunk. Simon froze, his heart tearing at the sight of your incoming tears, even if they were just due to your emotions being all over the place now. Emotions that had always been there, hidden deep within.

His first instinct was to ignore your words and just keep walking, his heart begging for him to comfort you. But again, how does a killer comfort an angel? How would the moon comfort the ocean, while being so far away?

“I didn’t say that.” He gruffly replied and continued to look ahead, not daring to meet your eyes anymore.

O Angel, let me fall on my knees, kiss your fingers, and weep for forgiveness. So you may hold my absolution, and make me man again.

“C’mon, we gotta take you home.” Simon internally cursed himself for not taking you both to the bar in a car. He hadn’t considered the possibility of you being a drunk mess. Do I ever consider anything?

“No!” Your loud whine echoed in the empty pavement, and he could barely hold in a chuckle, deciding to bite his bottom lip beneath his mask. “Can’t we spend more time together, Si?”

I’d spend a lifetime with you. But god forbid he ever said those words. Not to you, not to anyone. “S’not like m’gonna die or somethin’, or that you’ll never see me again.” Simon grumbled and tightened his hand around your waist, accommodating your wobbly body, guiding you.

Simon wished he could take your hands and sway around with you, let both of you move into a sweet dance, with the stars praising you. A performance for the cosmos. He wished he could hold you when you throw yourself over him, to let you never escape his embrace. Lovers forever tangled.

He wished.

He wondered what something like that even would look like. His dad never danced with his mother. He remembers his mother looking at him, holding in her tears and forcing a smile. “I promise your dad loves me, just as much as I love him. He's just… exhausted nowadays.” He wished his mother didn’t consider him a naive — a child.

Simon doesn’t think he was ever a child. A child is innocent, his very first cry was a sin.

“Simon?” Your voice snapped him out of the reminiscence he was trapped in. He let out a soft grunt, urging you to continue.

“Have you… Have you ever seen a ghost?” You burst into laughter at your own poor attempt at the joke, a rapid change of emotion, though in your defence, it’s definitely very funny. Your free hand tried to wipe the tears as you continued laughing, and Simon swore that this was truly the angels’ hymn eliciting from your mouth.

“Do I count?” He grinned behind his mask, the side of his eyes crinkling a bit. You quickly shook your head and stared at him with determined eyes, fully set on your question. “In that case, no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, love. But if I do, I’ll make sure to tell ‘em you said hello.”

If it was someone else like Kyle or Johnny who would be laughing about this joke, Simon was sure that he would have said something snarky or just straight up ignored them. But not with you, never with you.

“You’re the best.” You beamed, his heart squeezed painfully.

“We’re almost there.”

Upon arriving at your apartment complex, he dropped you off outside your apartment’s front door, the only thing in mind being to flee quickly so your sweet smile doesn’t taunt him anymore. Though he simply couldn’t, your fingers not letting go off his forearm at all. Too exhausted to figure out if it was intentional or not, he sighed under his breath and turned over to face you, brown eyes having a slight shine in them due to the hallway’s light.

“C’mon, you gotta go in and rest.” He couldn’t figure out why his breathing was falling short. Was it the alcohol? He barely drank anything.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to not look up at him and meet his eyes, knowing that it would shut you up. Like the intimidating gaze of a god, a warrior. You had to speak your mind, had to know about something, to ease the storm in your head.

“Are you getting bored of me?” These words slipped out of your lips as a meek whisper, forbidden.

It was a sickening feeling that ensued within Simon after that, as if something was grabbing his heart and trying to rip it out of his chest. Inhale, exhale. He didn’t know what exactly horrified him. Probably the fact that he knew what had caused you to think like that. The perfume.

O Angel, let me carve my heart out with a knife and hand it to you as an offering — apology. So may your hands embrace it and take me home, with thee. So may your fingers caress my cheek once again, and let my blood paint my skin.

“No.” He was embarrassingly quick to reply, fingers curling up into fists by his sides as he inhaled sharply. How could he put such thoughts into your head? How could I? Only a devil, the most evil being, could commit such atrocity.

You paused at his words, not knowing what else to say. No? Then why was that perfume there? You didn’t want him to think you were dumb enough to not notice that. “You’re lying…” Your voice cracked, and it was no longer the alcohol playing you like a puppet. It was you now. You felt like your own marionette. Stop speaking, fucking stop. “I am not dumb, Si. I saw that p-perfume on your couch the other day. Is that why you got mad at me?” God, stop talking please. “You could have just… said that you prefer other girls. Am I… Am I making a fucking fool out of myself here?” It terrified you, your own emotions terrified you. Your voice was rising just a bit, and all your feelings had their hands wrapped around your throat. Controlling you. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to say it out loud. You weren’t used to being so open about your mind, and now you felt like nothing but a cat shivering under the rain — alone and abandoned. Vulnerable, naked.

Maybe you and Simon weren’t so different after all. Vulnerability — just why did it terrify humans? Were the angels and the gods just as opposed to vulnerability?

“Oh, l-” Love. It almost slipped off his tongue, and he didn’t know if you even wanted him to call you that right now. The thought alone made him shudder uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do — stuck in between two roads. Should he lie? Or tell you the truth? — That it was just one time, a drunken act that is nothing but lamentable to him.

Why were you both even acting like an actual couple right now?

He swallowed the lump that threatened to torture his throat, exhaling softly. “I was drunk, and it happened. She probably left her perfume accidentally.” He spilled the truth out. Just the way a mature person would. Don’t be fucking daft, Riley. His eyes assessed the subtle twitch of your brows at that, your lips quivering. He wished he could just lean in and kiss all the tears away, despite them not having landed on your cheeks. Hopefully they won’t.

“Oh…” Your response was too short, unsure and reluctant. It made Simon feel as if he had sinned once again, chains threatening to drag him into the darkest depths of Hell. Home — the one he was familiar with.

You swallowed nervously and looked down at your feet, your hand long having stopped holding his arm. Instead, your fingers were fiddling with one another anxiously. Why did you feel as if you were betrayed? A desperate cry for love, you wished you could say it to him. To his face, sob and scream about what you felt. He was the only one who understood, who was willing to understand. He was the only one who ever was, and who ever will be.

The agreement. It was no longer just fucking, it never was. Not since the day you saw him with Kyle, not since the day he talked with you after Kyle gestured at you. Never. Could he also see it all the way you did?

Your silence was a clear indicator of the fact that you were lost in your thoughts now. Simon’s eyes softened up, and before he could think rationally, his body reacted on its own and embraced you tightly against his chest, strong arms wrapping around you protectively.

“Fuck…” He cussed under his breath, despising how his voice was thickening up with emotion. He hugged you like an old dog messily giving affection to its owner. My angel, my angel. I sinned, I have sinned. I am sorry.

He pulled you impossibly close, as if wanting to mold his body into yours, to become one. He could be with you forever in that way, to be your breathing and you his heartbeat.

You didn’t even feel confused at his rapid action at all. Just broken, so broken. He was the hammer that had finally hit the dam, and broke it. “W-Why?” Your voice wavered and mixed into a sob, your hands tightened holding onto him, fingers threatening to dig deeper as you let your head rest against him, tears tickling your skin. “I am so tired… So tired, Si. I hate you…”

“Do you want me to leave?” His hold tightened despite his words.

“No.” Your words came out a bit more forcefully than you had intended, too anxious to let him go. You felt his right hand leaving your back, a soft whimper leaving your lips once you felt his lips, bare and real, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, soon realising that he had taken his mask off. Too shy and messy in tears, you made no effort to look up at him and instead continued to cry, emotions desperate to keep pouring out and leave the imprisonment of your body. His hand continued to rub the back of your head while his other held your lower back, both of you unknowingly taking a few steps back and forth together, unable to stay still. It was as if you both were dancing slowly, like lovers.

“Alright. Hand me the keys, love.” You tentatively grabbed your keys from where you had kept it and handed it to him, your hands quickly latching onto him again. He carefully unlocked the front door of your apartment and led you inside, being extra cautious so he doesn’t accidentally step onto your feet. Closing the door by kicking it gently with one leg, he gently guided you towards the living room, easing you down onto the couch.

“Do you remember that creepy guy that came into the cafe?” Your voice was still shaky from crying, eyes all glossy as you finally looked at him, heart skipping a beat. Despite already having seen his face the last time, you still weren't used to it. Were you blessed?

He silently nodded and took a seat beside you, his arms leaving your sides so his large hands could cradle your face, thumbs tenderly wiping the drying up tears away while you talked, eyes looking everywhere but at him due to the sudden proximity. He didn't mind it at all, simply adored your sudden sheepishness.

“I still get scared at the thought of him… I don't want anyone like that to visit the cafe again. I-I don't think I can handle it.” Your voice gradually got quieter by the end, nibbling on your bottom lip. Oh, dear. Simon hadn’t told you that he had already beat that creep up. Now he somewhat wished that he had killed him instead. Surely Price would back him up if he made up some reason, yeah?

Your shoulders visibly eased up at that, your mind clearing a bit. Probably sobering up? You were sure that you weren't going to pick up a bottle of alcohol after this. Leaning into him, you decided to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Expecting a soft, calm rhythm — you were instead met with a fast thump, your brows furrowing though you decided not to comment on it.

“He wouldn't. No one will ever treat you like that again, love.” As long as I am here. Possessive yet guilty. He was vaguely promising to be by your side while always avoiding you, protecting you from himself. From the ugliness within him. No angel must spare a glance at a stray, especially not one used to violence.

His hands were playing with the fabric of your shirt now, mindlessly toying with it, feeling the texture under his skin as he gently tugged onto it. It felt oddly comforting, both of you not mentioning what happened outside the apartment a few minutes ago.

You looked up at him again, your eyes falling onto his lips this time. A bit chapped with a small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, leaning forward to place a bashful kiss on top of it. Simon let out a soft grumble at that, tilting his head to the side so he could kiss your lips properly, eyes fluttering shut alongside yours. He could taste some hints of your salty tears, his hands holding your waist while your hands held the back of his neck, letting his lips devour yours.

He held onto you gently, not wanting to be tight despite every fiber within him wanting to hold you fully against him once more, like a hound too eager to please.

Once he pulled away from the kiss, his heart skipped at the sight of your lips being all glossy. Ethereal. Your lips twitched into a giddy smile, and he could swear that he felt the heat radiating off you once it crept up onto your face. It felt soft, everything felt too soft and warm. The gentleness threatened to suffocate him once more, a mocking reminder of him being undeserving of such tranquility. He was supposed to be wed to the war, to violence. To the bloodshed that haunted his dreams. Not whatever this was.

But he refused to get up, not wanting to see any more of your tears. “We have to get you to bed. You need sleep.” He spoke quietly, a soft sigh leaving his lips once he felt your forehead pressing against his, letting you lean into him.

“Will you join me?” You normally would have never asked something like that, but the way he was holding you almost made you believe that he was willing to warm up a bit more with you.

Simon frowned at that, pulling his head back slightly. “We can't, you're drunk.”

Realising that he misunderstood you, blood rushed to your cheeks and you looked away in embarrassment, your voice getting timid. “No… I meant sleeping together. Nothing else.”

He paused, eyes softening up as the implication dawned on him. Sleeping together. Innocently domestic — something you both had never touched. He wanted to reject, to say that it’d be better for him to just leave. That could have been the better option anyways. Though he couldn't bring himself to refuse you, too enamoured, as if trapped in some spell by you.

“Fine.” He clicked his tongue in a poor attempt to appear reluctant, masking his inner eagerness. Helping you off the couch, he led you towards the bathroom first, opening the tap. “Let's wash your face first, yeah?”

He did everything — getting you in comfortable pajamas once he finished helping you clean up, even helping you in preparing the bed. Everything. It made you feel as if you were cared for, as if he was the warmth you had ached for throughout your life. The felicity had long spreaded within you once you laid down on bed, watching him lay down beside you.

He was tense, visibly so. You tentatively scooted towards him, a hand reaching out to settle onto his chest, to feel his heartbeat once again. Maybe in this way, you could sync your heart with his, build your own little bubble. Or was that too much to hope for?

“Thank you…” It just slipped out of your mouth like a soft prayer — a hidden whisper to be close to him so more.

“S'nothing.” His eyes looked over at you, taking in the contentment etched onto your face. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you against him, to let you melt in his embrace while you slept. No. That's too much, that's crossing a line. A line made up in his head.

You're building your own grave, Simon. He despised his own mind for mocking him like this, for littering his head with unwanted thoughts. Just one night.

“Sleep now, love.” He whispered quietly, watching you reach over to turn the lamp off. You shuffled besides him again, letting the blanket cover you up.

Simon doesn’t remember the last time he had slept so nicely, your soft breathing his lullaby.

Upon waking up alone on your bed, a heavy feeling of dread settled on you alongside a throbbint headache. Had he left? Wasn't it just getting better?

Holding your heart together from cracking it with every strength you had, you tried to take a few deep breaths. Don’t panic, don't-

The sudden clinking sound from outside your bedroom made you jolt, and only now could you notice the pleasant aroma of something cooking. Sheepishly, you slid off the bed and tiptoed over to the door, poking your head out to look around. Able to make out some of Simon's figure through the open door of the kitchen, relief flooded deep within you. He's here.

“Good morning, Si…” You greeted him once you entered the kitchen, standing besides him, rubbing the weariness off your eyes. He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, focusing on cooking some breakfast.

“Your whole kitchen needs some restocking.” He mumbled, sparing a small glance over at you. You stayed quiet, a bit embarrassed by his observance. You were planning on restocking it soon, anyways.

The morning went by like a pleasant breeze, your mood ever so joyous today. You felt light, as if floating on the clouds and reaching the stars, as if becoming one of them, alongside Simon. He hadn't mentioned much about last night at all, even gave you some pills and an offer for a head massage. You had declined it, mostly because you didn't want to show how greatly affected you were by the subtle signs of care laced in his actions, despite it being already evident all over you.

You didn't know what had driven you to act in the way you did in the afternoon. Maybe you shouldn't have opened your mouth, just kept it shut and complied.

“Si, I um… I want to talk to you about something.” You paused the monotonous movie literally none of you were actually focusing on, turning over the couch to face him, your fingers tightly curled on your lap, digging into your flesh.

Maybe it was just your heart acting out, feeling as if things had changed. Foolishly clinging onto the thin strong of hope, never learning. Never learning that touching stray dogs was bad, they had fleas. Fleas that had already infected you, threatening to devour you.

“I think… Uh- I was wondering- I just-” Fumbling over your words, all you could hear was the loud beating of your own heart, each nerve of yours set on fire. Anxious, too anxious. You wanted to throw up. “I wanted to tell you that I really… like you, and-” Your words drowned into heavy silence once you took note of just how silent Simon was, how he was frowning.

A fool. A fool who dreamt too much, who was too lost amidst the heavenly clouds of tranquility. A fool who did everything to avoid reality — that's what you felt like.

“No.” His reply was rather abrupt, clear. The subtle smile on your lips fell, and Simon wished to do nothing more than drown into a river. “You don't like me.”

“I-I do!” Unbelievable, did he not believe that you like him? Even love him.

“You shouldn't.” That came out more roughly than he had intended to, a little snarl escaping his throat. “We've already discussed it, this is nothing.’

You should have shut up at that, should have somehow sewed your lips together and quieted down. You couldn't, instead growing more agitated, more on edge. “You can't say that, Si! D-Don't you see whatever it is that we're doing?” You whimpered in exasperation, trying to keep your voice from trembling, miserably failing. “I care for you! I do, and you care for me too. I can see it…” Vision progressively growing blurrier with incoming tears, you looked away and tried to ignore the sting in your eyes, your breath shuddering. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon was at a loss of words himself, his heart aching to kiss your tears away and plead for forgiveness. He was a cruel, cruel man. Cruel for being so terrified, cruel for being so persistent.

O Angel, forgive me for I can't let you love me, for light should never kiss the shadow.

“You shouldn't…” He repeated his words again, his voice quieter, weaker. A plea, a request. You shook your head, a sob erupting from your throat as you tried to reach out for him.

He pulled away just as quick, your hand never meeting his. An ocean that could never touch the moon, a man that could never touch a star.

“I need to leave.” Hastily he turned around and walked out of your apartment, leaving you speechless, hand still shamefully held out. Frozen and alone, unloved.

Simon Riley was a coward.

Simon had lost count of how many bottles he had drank by now. Feeling horribly, horribly similar to his father. A drunkard, disgusting. He thought the alcohol could wash his emotions away, drown them hopefully — all it did was make him even more vulnerable, his glossy eyes staring off at a distance.

Weak. Ironically enough, this brute was nothing but weak. Everyone should be laughing at him, you should be laughing at him. Laugh at him for not knowing how to love properly, for being so quick to run away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, making him click his tongue in irritation that soon melted away once he noticed the caller ID.

Price.

He picked it up and listened to his captain's words, each syllable both a stab and a blessing.

A deployment again, finally.

notes — i apologise for uploading it after A WHOLE MONTH. blaming it on the writerphew, a deployment! this could mean many things. also a heads up that either chapter 6 or chapter 7 will be the last one (made some changes to my plan!)

#the most infuriation relationship known to society #simon PLEASE.#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #yaaiad : masterlist #rurufic

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youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 6 months

Text

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

Words: 2577

Warnings: angst, talks of a miscarriage, body image, talks of difficulty staying pregnant, mention of what is technically a still-birth, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-medicating, accidental suicide attempt (this is will make sense if you read it), probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

IF THERE IS A WANT FOR A PART 2, I WILL DO ONE, IF NOT, THEN THIS STAYS AS A ONE-SHOT!

I mention Y/N goes to a church to pray, it is described more as a Christian or Catholic one (I really don't know the difference and I apologize) as she lights a candle before she prays. If you wish to skip that part, it starts with "Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral." and ends with "Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out.". I do also mention that the reader themselves aren't very religious (but grew up with it so reverted back to old practices to see if it helped)

Alfred is also dead in this (don't ask why he just is) so that's why he isn't here!

The POV here isn't really consistent. It jumps between being with the Batkids, Bruce, and Y/N's. I tried to make it flow though so hopefully that works!

I feel like I should mention:

Bruce and Y/N's ages don't matter (I'm not in the mood to deal with that) but; Dick is 31 (and married to Kori but that's not too important), Jason is 25, Tim is 22, Damian is 15, Cass is 24, and Steph is 23

I also am not too familiar with Duke, so that is why he isn't there much. Mostly just mentioned

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

7:25 AM

The kids watched as Y/N was silent as she put the plate down in front of Bruce's empty seat. They all noted how fake her smile looked as she looked up at them. "Alright, I will see you kids later!"

They all watched as she walked out of the dining room and once they knew she was out of earshot, they started talking.

"Did she eat anything?"

It was Jason, he had been the last down (well...outside of Tim) so he only saw her putting the plates down and ushering them to eat.

Dick shook his head, he had seen her the entire time she made breakfast. Fully clothed, which was unusual as she usually just made breakfast in her pajamas with her hair occasionally brushed. But not today. Today her hair was done, makeup was on, she was dressed as if she was working.

But everyone in that house knew she was still off after what happened, even though it had been 3 months since the incident.

Damian flicked at his food, "Ummi was supposed to take me to school today."

Dick smiled at Damian, "I can, Dami. Mom is just...preoccupied."

Damian hmphed and continued to play with his food. Dick was concerned for his younger brother. He knew that while he himself was close with the woman he had allowed to become his mother, Damian was so much more as she was really the only person who never got mad at him or made fun of him when he didn't understand something.

Jason abruptly stood, "Since mom isn't here, I'm just gonna go."

Dick raised a brow, "Really Jason? You're just gonna leave after--"

"Hey, we've been over this before Dick. I come because mom asks me to." He shrugged as he put his jacket on, "Plus, I'm going to follow her."

Stephanie snorted, "She'll kill you when she catches you."

"If she catches me. If."

Steph hummed, "My bets are on she will. Y/N is always on the lookout, especially after..." She faded and looked down, regret piling up inside her as she thought of what she was about to say.

"Either way, tell us what you find Jason."

He nodded to Dick's request before heading out the side door in the kitchen. Dick tapped his hand on the table for a minute before speaking; "I'm gonna go check on dad, Damian go get everything ready and I'll meet you at the entryway, alright?"

The eldest stood, placing a gentle hand on the youngest shoulder before heading to the stairs. Dick was concerned. He had never seen his mother so...shut off. Pretending like everything was alright even though everyone who saw her could tell that she was so close to jumping off of a bridge.

The closest that he had seen her to this was back when Jason died and she broke up with Bruce. But even then, she didn't avoid things that she had already planned. Even then, she stayed committed to things.

Plus, Dick knew she had no plans today. Well...no plans except for the fact that beforehand this would have been her due date. And he knew that that was most likely what had off-set her so badly.

Dick didn't even knock before opening the door to Bruce's study. He was even speaking before his father even looked up from his computer. "Have you talked to mom?"

Bruce raised a brow, "What?"

"Mom." Dick crossed his arms, "When was the last time you and her had a real conversation?"

Bruce shrugged, "I'm not sure." He looked at Dick oddly, "What are you going on about?"

Dick let out a hard sigh, "You two are married, it is your job to take care of her. Goddammit Bruce!" He threw his hands up in anger, "You know what? Nevermind, I'm not...I'm not even going to try."

He angrily turned and walked out of the room. He didn't even understand why he even thought that talking to Bruce would help. He just walked down the stairs and remembered his promise to get Damian to school. Trying to hide the anxiety he had that he didn't know what exactly his mom was doing.

--------

9:09 AM

Jason watched Y/N walk out of the convenience store all the way in Blüdhaven. From where he was, he couldn't see what she had bought, but the moment he saw her go into the store, he had messaged Tim to watch her bank account. To watch what she was purchasing. Something felt...off as he watched her.

Jason knew that after the...accident, Y/N had been hard to reach. To talk to. He knew that she and Bruce hadn't been sleeping in the same bed since that argument he had accidently heard them having around 3 weeks after everything happened. So 4 weeks ago.

Granted...from what he had heard, it wasn't even a fight that they had had. Mostly just words being thrown at the other. Words that Jason never thought that he would hear either one say to the other. Words that he never told any of his siblings that he heard. All out of fear that one of them would panic. And while sure, he had a disdain for Tim and Damian, that didn't mean he would ever let either of them know what he had heard.

Jason wasn't sure how long he had been watching her just sit in the car before Tim finally texted him a list of what Y/N had bought in the past week. And considering Jason had seen her previous bank records for a week, it was a sure red mark with how short it was.

Tim

In the past week she's gotten a lot of sleeping pills. That's basically all that she has gotten. That plus energy and pain pills. Duke is thinking she's self-medicating again

Jason sighed as he pocketed his phone when he saw his mom driving out of the parking lot. He kept a safe distance behind her as he followed her on her drive back to Gotham.

--------

12:15 PM

Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral. Trying not to make a misstep and fall as well as trying not to draw attention to herself. She closed the umbrella over her head as she walked in. Placing it in the small holder, she brushed the front of her outfit as her heels clicked on the ground when she walked down the long hall.

Last time she was there was for her mothers funeral last year. Last time she had walked up and grabbed the larger candle to dip down and light the smaller one. Her heart pounded in her chest as she kneeled, words swimming through her head and mumbling off her lips.

She herself was never very religious, but having grown up that way, she wondered if praying like she did as a child would work. Praying that things would get better and that she would get better.

She shakily did the cross on her before standing and wiping the tears that had silently fallen away from her cheeks. She turned and started to make her way out of the church when she heard a voice call out her name:

"Mrs. Wayne! We were not expecting you here today, is everything alright?"

Y/N slowly turned to face one of the Nuns, a small, fake, smile on her face. "Oh yes, everything is alright Sister. Just came here to pray for a moment. I haven't in such a long time."

The nun nodded, "Very well, I hope the Good Lord hears your prayer and makes it happen."

Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out. She grabbed her umbrella before opening the door and walking out. She practically ran back to her car, wanting to get in before anyone saw her out.

But Cass and Steph did. They watched her speed back to her car as they sat in the cafe across the way. Stephanie shook her head, "She never goes there. Especially not since her mothers deaths."

Cass nodded as Steph continued; "Something is seriously going on with Y/N. Maybe something else has happened that we don't know."

"She's been deteriorating for the past 4 weeks."

Steph raised a bow and inquired, "4 weeks?" Cass nodded, "Huh...weird, that's around a week after she came home from the hospital." She grabbed her phone and started typing in the groupchat that only held the kids (Damian not included):

Steph

when did Bruce disappear for a few days after Y/N came home?"

It didn't take long for Tim to respond

logs say he left 35 hours after she got home and came back 83 hours later why?

Cass

She's been slowly getting worse sense then

Jason

I overheard them arguing around 3 weeks after everything happened and I know they haven't been sleeping in the same room since then. And I'm not sure how important this is; but Tim checked her bank account and she bought different pills so me, him, and Duke think she's medicating again. Or that she's going to start again.

Cass and Steph looked at each other, concern and worry was on their faces as they read Jason's last message. Something started unnerving them as they thought of the things she could possibly do if she was going to start medicating again.

----

3:25 PM

Y/N looked at her body in the mirror. Her hands came to lay on her stomach. Just like she did before. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she stared at her flatter stomach. She breathed shakily as her hands fell down to her sides.

Why?

Was all she ever asked.

Why me? Why did this happen to me?

She was so confused. She had always been good. Done everything to be a good person. But yet she still had that happen to her. Was she just not meant to be a mother?

Of course...she was one. She was a mother to 4 amazing boys and 1 beautiful girl. But still...it was different. Yes, those 5 children were hers, but that one. That singular one that she had carried for nearly 7 months had meant so much to her. Especially after being told time and time again it wouldn't happen.

It wasn't even the first time it had happened. She had had miscarriages before...but that wasn't what it was this time. The kidnapping. Bruce and the kids had found her after 2 days. The emergency c-section to save the baby.

But she knew. Of course she knew. She knew it had died.

Her baby girl. She had died before she even got the chance to live.

Y/N shakily breathed as she grabbed one of the bottles from the counter. She had thought it was the pain medication. But it hadn't been.

Sleeping meds.

Ever since it happened she had hardly been able to sleep. Nightmares of what happened still plagued her mind. Bruce yelling at her still echoed in her brain. Those...twisted words he said echoed inside of her.

She had popped a few in her mouth before dry-swallowing them and getting into the bath she had started earlier. The hot water felt like it was searing her skin, but she didn't care. She wondered if maybe she did this enough, whoever was above would forgive her of her sins and let her keep a pregnancy.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed in the water before it became difficult to keep her head above water. Her body just felt so heavy. She wondered what pain meds she had grabbed at the store. She couldn’t remember them making her feel this way before. After a few moments of struggling to keep her head up, she felt her body sink down and under the water. But even as she felt water rush into her nose and fill her lungs, she couldn't bring herself to move and get out.

She just accepted her fate.

----

3:30 PM

Bruce sat in his office, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. Something was telling him to check on Y/N. See if she was alright. He knew she had returned around 20 minutes ago, the security cameras had caught her walking in.

He carefully stood from his desk and walked out of his office. He walked down the oddly quiet halls of the manor. A small feeling of pain and guilt started to eat at him as he got closer to the guest room she had been staying in. He knew she was struggling. He knew that she needed him today. But he just...couldn't.

He was selfish. He knew this.

He knew he was so goddamn selfish. Caring about his own feelings rather than helping his wife. She had been the one to physically go through everything. She had been the one to bear that trauma.

He had been so incredibly selfish since she had come home from the hospital. He had even begun to wonder why she even stayed in the manor.

But as he opened the door to the guest room, unrest settled inside him as he saw she wasn't there but the bathroom door was open. It was silent. He had known his wife long enough to know she never was silent in the bathroom. She almost always had music playing.

He pushed the bedroom door further open as he walked further in. Anxiety started to reach a breaking point as he walked into the bathroom.

And time felt like it moved in slow-motion as he saw her state. Her knees bent out of the water, her head under. He saw the three bottles of pills on the counter. He saw the open one read sleep on them. He ran over to the tub, grabbing under her arms and pulling her out.

He bent down, trying to listen for a heartbeat. He felt like his own heart stopped as he heard nothing. Not even a faint thump of one. He quickly moved to her side and started CPR.

Everything still felt like it was moving slower than it was as he pushed down on her sternum. Tears gathered in his eyes as he repeatedly slammed down onto her. As he breathed into her mouth. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally had gotten the CPR to work. She began to cough profusely, water spluttering everywhere. He sobbed as he heard her shallow breaths break through the air.

He heard the noise of Dick's voice breaking. "Mom?"

He looked at him, seeing both him and Damian staring at the scene in front of them. Staring as their father held their mother in his arms. As tears fell from his eyes, he pleaded for them to call 911.

It was with shaky hands that Dick did it. His words sounded choked back, he kept stuttering. Trying to say what he was supposed to but his mind was running at a million miles and and half a mile a second at the same time. Everything felt fuzzy and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. All that he knew was that he walked in on his dad doing CPR on his mom.

That was all he knew.

That was all Dick knew.

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youryanderedaddy · 21 days

Text

When The Flood Comes

tw: female reader, cannibalism, starvation, murder (not reader), religious imagery, hinted past sexual assault, imprisonment, hinted jealousy, slut shaming, dark!Cassian, disturbing descriptions

You used to love Easter as a child. It was the only time your mother would spare money on something as non - essential as chocolate or food dye. She would take a short break from her needlework, or whatever sewing project she had going on, and she would sit down to paint a few eggs with you, barely a carton, with whatever charge her client had left the day before. The first egg was always as red as blood, and she would rub a small cross across your forehead while the paint was still warm. For luck, she would say - and may the year ahead be fruitful.

These days you think about your mother more often than you’d like. Sometimes you dream about her - you’re brought back to the tiny yellow cottage in the middle of the forest, so very close to the river that started the whole mess. You can feel her hands caressing your hair, the warmth of her long skirts soaking into your bare legs as she sings you a lullaby and rocks you to sleep. You can almost hear the melody in your head - you don’t remember the lyrics anymore, but you know it must be something soothing. Something suiting of a soul destined to go to Heaven.

It makes you chuckle - but it also makes you cry, the thought of it all. Your mother probably thinks you’re up in the sky now, naked and running in a flowery field surrounded by angels. You wouldn’t blame her, you decide, if she has already given up on finding you. You’re not sure how long it’s been, but you’ve bled three times already - so it must have been three whole months at least, and that’s enough for the heart to grow weak, for the mind to forget. Especially those not worth remembering.

Cassian doesn’t let a single day pass without reminding you just that. He explains that once you enter the catacombs, you become part of the church. You melt together with the stone and the marble, you blend in behind the old dungeon bars just like a martyr nailed to a cross. Nobody knows you’re here - nobody knows that this place still exists. As far as the public is aware, the catacombs burnt down to the last peg during the Saturah war.

And yet here you are, chained like a dog. Your stomach hurts again. In the beginning of the Lent you didn’t feel much different, some phantom pains here and there, a wave of nausea washing over you as you woke up, but now the emptiness is almost ever - present. Just like a bitter past lover it doesn’t let go, leaving you curled up and aching more often than not. You can’t remember the last time you had something solid in your system - something different than watered down soup or herb tea. Chamomile. Hibiscus. Pennyroyal. Pennyroyal. Pennyroyal. Pennyroyal.

It’s hard to see in the utmost dark - but Cassian’s candle burns bright, illuminating everything around. Once your eyes settle into focus, you make out his face - his eyes sparkle with cold reflected light, but he’s not looking at you. His entire focus seems to be directed at the plate before him. He runs a finger through the white satin tablecloth, wrapping his digits into one of the knitted holes, and your heart stops beating for a second, anticipating the crumble of the table and everything on it - but it never happens.

The deacon eats in absolute silence for what feels like eternity - the only sounds that leave his body are muffled moans of perverse appreciation as he cuts into the bloody meat and brings the piece into his open mouth. It’s utterly disgusting - the warm scarlet essence of the poor animal drips down his chin, his cloth, his hands, it smears all over the beautiful handsewn cover, and yet you’ve never felt such intense hunger in your life. All you want is to sink your teeth into the rich pithy texture, to tear into it until you feel the vein pop under your teeth. Your mouth is watering.

“He has risen.” The man finally smiles, a nice warm smile, but his eyes never leave the meal. You look up, keeping your hands on the ground to retain balance - even such small movements are enough to make you dizzy and you end up falling backwards. Cassian holds up something you barely recognise as a glass, greedy to gulp the liquid inside. It leaves a purple stain down his jaw and he quickly wipes it with the end of his white sleeve. “You must be hungry.” He purrs as if talking to an animal, and you nod with unhidden desperation. You’ve never been so hungry in your entire life.

He makes a gesture for you to come closer and you crawl towards the bars, opting to get your head out despite the tight gaps between the metal sticks. The man caresses you with one hand, calling you a good girl and a hundred other sweet names you’ve never heard him even utter before. It becomes increasingly hard to follow his voice as your stomach growls louder and louder, filled up with acidic emptiness to the brim. He finally takes pity on you and throws a ripped piece of the slab towards your feet.

Your past self would have laughed at that. She would have smiled mockingly, turning her back on this depravity. She would have broken the rusted grates with a shove - and then she would have strangled the fucker with her bare hands. But you’re not her anymore. You’re not the woman who could fall asleep under a cloak tree, who could smile and sing during a rainstorm, who could skip with the wind. You can pretend to be her all you want, but you doubt she’d want to share her skin ever again. The body you’re stuck in, her body, is wretched beyond repair. Covered in belts and bruises, melting into a puddle of pain and scarcity, begging for the tiniest moment of mercy. And what a mercy it is.

What a mercy it is to feel the raw, dense flesh on your tongue, to be able to bite into something instead of slurping salt and broth from someone else’s hand, someone else’s spoon. What a mercy it is to tastе the grease and the fat, the sweet, tangy bite, for the meat to stick in between your teeth and not flow through. To chew slowly because there’s something to chew on, to drink the fluid oozing out of each nip and abandon the bones hidden beneath. It tastes… divine.

“Do you like it?” Cassian asks eventually, voice full of amusement as he brings his hands together. He’s covered in stains from head to toe, but somehow he still remains as proper and pure as a tear. You don’t want to break away from the pigsty on your lap - you want to bury your face in the meaty red goodness, to savour each and every bite, but the singular surviving thought in you tells you to obey the man, lest he takes the food away. You don’t want him to take it away. You don’t want to die. Despite everything, you don’t want to die. So you nod - with your whole body, and you bow, because you need him to understand that this moment right now is essential. Fateful.

“What is it?” You rasp breathlessly, unable to hide the excitement in your tired, sluggish movements. You feel a spark of energy building up inside your chest and you want to scream with joy. Maybe the next bite is what gives you the strength to break out of this hell. Maybe the next bite will bring her back to life. “It tastes like lamb.” You mumble, tapping your knee impatiently - waiting for the man to speak so you can return to devouring the remains of your… dinner.

“You can call it that.” He chuckles, eyes glowing with pride. “It is a sacrificial lamb of sorts.” His finger grazes the flame, but the man seems oblivious to the burn. “Although, I’m surprised, dear. I mean, I knew you were an insatiable whore…” He finally looks at you. His eyes are inhumanly cruel. “But to forget your own lover...”

“W-what do you mean?” Your heart skips a beat and you immediately freeze in place. As your ears ring with uncertainty, you become painfully aware of the stench of blood soaking into the collar of your filthy robe. “Don’t you find the taste familiar? Come on, darling… I know you’re going absolutely crazy with starvation, but it wouldn’t hurt to use that pretty little brain sometimes.” Cassian sneers, ever so malicious, picking up the wine glass again.

You inhale sharply as your chest tightens with panic. Someone is screaming at the back of your mind, threatening to tear your head open. Your thoughts are racing. Places, places, men, meat, sweat sticking, drenched in… You don’t have a clue what he’s getting at.

“Aww, my love. You really don’t remember? You must be completely gone by now.” His voice is sweet, but nothing like chocolate. Nothing like butterfly kisses and sugar, nothing like a warm hug on a cold night. It’s so sweet it hurts your throat. “You’ve had his lips,” The deacon grins with all his pearly teeth out - it makes you shiver. “And now you’re having his heart.”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?!” You scream, unable to take the suspense any longer. You should be used to it, you should be used to his stupid love for theatrics and tension just like you should be used to the rats crawling around at night, and his hand gripping your neck until you see stars, and the stinging pulsing pain between your thighs, but you’re not, and you never will. Maybe that’s why you still have it in you to get angry.

“Michael, of course.” Cassian spits the name out like a curse, breaking the play - pretend once and for all. “That fucking tub-thumper you stole from Martha.” He laughs loosely, shoulders going up and down with ferocious madness. “I figured, if you love him so much, why not become one with him?” His voice drops to a sinister mumble. “Eve was created out of Adam’s rib. I wonder if his flesh will compose a new form inside of you and me.” He steps closer towards the bars, taking a hold of them like a man possessed - and for a moment you’re not sure who’s the prisoner and who’s the warden. “We’re born from blood and blood we become. His death will mark the beginning of our love.”

His tone is gentle, his arms are soft, digging into the metal grates with the patience of a saint - trying to pull you outside through sheer will alone, but you don’t budge. You can’t. You’re stuck in place, tied down to the stone - cold filth you've already spent forever in. And before you know it, you’re emptying your guts upon the ground, watching the warm bile settle into each crook and nanny. Yellow, green and red mix together, painting the tiles all odds of brown. The reek of sickness fills the damp air, and you wish you could sense the mayor’s perfume beneath all the vomit, but there is nothing more to it now. He was a man and now he’s acid. He was loved, and now he’s less than meat.

“How ungrateful.” Cassian hisses, letting go of you. He takes a second to brush the vomit off his shoes before turning back to you. “I decided to do something nice for you despite your betrayal, and this is the thanks I get?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“You’re sick.” You clench your eyes tight, drowning in a storm of tears and snot. You can’t comprehend what just happened, what he told you. You’re not sure if you’re still dreaming or if you’re awake, if your reality has turned into an endless nightmare. Like crickets inside of your temple, the screams never end. “If I’m sick, then you must be poison.” The man bites back with venom, but you can see the smirk waiting to spill at the end of his lips. There is an air of conspiracy, of shared obscenity that should unite you, but instead it only makes you want to choke on your own spit.

“I tried to cleanse you, my girl, I really did.” He squints, drowning whatever is left of the wine in one go. “I kept your body pure for forty days and forty nights. It’s the Last Supper. You can become one with me, or you can rot away.” He leans down, pushing himself closer to you. “All I ask is that you erase him from your soul. Devour whatever’s left of him, and let the memory go once and for all.” He speaks slowly as if he’s performing a ritual. You can feel yourself go drowsy, falling under his trance. “Then… Then come back to me. I’ll be waiting.” He kisses you deeply, urgently, letting you taste the blood off his tongue.

The hunger is back.

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

197 notes · View notes

visforvengeance · 30 days

Text

Downright Iconic

Requested by: No One :)

Notes: helllllo! ok so i lovelovelove rafe and i've been seeing you guys do like a southern gothic type thing so I wanted to try as a southern (Georgia and texas) woman myself. so let me just say I am an atheist that grew up with a highly Christian family. I became an atheist when I was like 14 so idk too many bible verses and I'm sorry if anything is in accurate. I'm just sacrilegious af, like this story oh man. ok this is very much xblack reader based so idk read it or don't. this is heavily HEAVILY ethel cain coded, specifically gibson girl and western nights. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

Pairing: rafe cameron x black!southern reader

Warnings: oh man there's so many warnings omg ok. dacryphilia. hinted somnophilia, sexual religious themes, unprotected sex, graphic graphic graphic, degradation (slut, whore, etc), actual slut shaming, I was high while writing most of this and it went berserk. um it's 4k words of porn without plot. i didn't proofread. I don't remember all of the warnings so please read at your own risk!

You sat in the front row of your church, along with your family and others who were important to society. There was your family, the Pastor’s family, the Camerons (Ward Cameron is the mayor of your quaint little town). The Thorntons and the Carreras. Your father’s voice boomed throughout the small church as he recited Proverbs 3:5-6. Kiara’s father had asked him to speak on keeping up your faith after he learned of his daughter’s betrayal.

She was caught dillydallying with that little blonde boy from the more southern parts of town. Her reputation took quite a hit when everyone found out. It nearly cost her family their business, if it weren’t for the closeness they shared with the Camerons, they’d have faced total ruin.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as you looked over at your friend. She kept her head down and her hands in her lap while the grip her father held on her wrist visibly tightened. You wanted to go and comfort her, but you knew your mother would disapprove. When she found out about the news, she banned you from ever even looking at Kiara again. Which was hard because she was your greatest friend. Despite your mother’s wishes, you still hung around her. You were her rock whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on, you defended her from those who called her foul names and turned on her.

Your eyes trailed over to the Cameron family. They all sat in their crisp and brightly colored Sunday’s best. Your eyes looked over the eldest child in the family, Rafe. He was a wild child, a true force to be reckoned with. Star athlete at your university, the town’s sweetheart. The boy your mama would be proud to call her son-in-law. The golden child. There was no better American teen than Rafe Cameron. Until the sun goes down and he’s the devil that lurks in the streets.

Rafe was a notorious party animal. He’s single-handedly why your town has a curfew in the first place. Despite his daddy being the mayor and constantly under public scrutiny, everyone under the age of 27 knew what Rafe Cameron got into. The parties, the drugs and alcohol, premarital sex, he did all of it.

The two eldest Cameron children were very sneaky. Sarah, who was more like her brother than she’d like to admit, was just as wild. For starters, she was dating one of those pogues. There’s nothing worse than dating a pogue around these parts. She claimed that they were in love and planned on leaving when they got the chance. You’d just nod and pet her hair, bless her heart. You weren’t a fan of slutshaming but if you looked up the very definition of a slut, there’d be a picture of Sarah sitting prettily. You didn’t know how the purity necklace Ward had gotten her hadn’t broken and melted to the ground from her sinful ways. But, you loved her nonetheless.

Since you were 13 and could no longer control the urges that came with being a growing girl, there had always been something about Rafe. You had a crush on the older boy for years. You didn’t partake in things like masturbation, but on days where you nearly gave in, thoughts of Rafe ran across your mind. His toned body hovered above yours while his breath fanned over your features. He was between your legs, grinding against you so slowly that you felt everything he had to offer.

Mama and daddy hadn’t taught you about sex yet. They always said that it was something you’d learn about when the time came. So, you didn’t know how vaginas and penises worked and how babies were made or why sometimes when you were alone, if you thought for too long then your breathing would become heavier and there’s this feeling in your stomach. And, you can’t keep your legs from rubbing together and you’re so hot, god (you’ll repent later), you could die. This unknown feeling gets so intense, but you’re so scared. So, you stop. You say your prayers and go to bed. You don’t tell anyone about these moments of little death.

Rafe was always indifferent towards you until you turned 16 and your body developed more. And, you were no longer just his annoying little sister’s best friend. Fuck, you were so much more. Your tits practically burst out of your sports bra when he sees you practicing for cheerleading. 17 and your ass was looking too good in your jeans. 18 and the sway of your hips had him on his knees.

He fucked countless girls dreaming that they were you instead. He just knows your virgin pussy would have him going crazy. He knew about your crush on him from one of the times you were talking to Kie while Sarah was out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish you were in his arms too. But, something in him was holding him back. He never knew what and didn’t bother to try and figure it out. He wasn’t going to for a good long while.

When you looked over at Rafe to discover he was already looking at you, your eyes widened and you immediately looked back at your father. Rafe felt his smirk grow. He spent his days in church daydreaming about bending you over and fucking you right in front of everyone and Jesus Christ himself. He laughed when he thought about the times he didn’t burst into flames.

He tuned out the preaching as he imagined what your tits would like while he drenched your top in the holy water before him. He imagined it was you saying those prayers while you’re stupid crying on his cock, a girl like you should be praying to the correct god. Rafe wanted you so badly. He decided that he was done wasting time. He’d marry you and make you his pretty little housewife if he had to. He had to stop before the very thought of you being pregnant and swollen with his baby made him cum in his pants.

After church, your father allowed you to hang out with Sarah at Tannyhill. The two of you lounged around by the pool while Rafe and his friends did the same on the opposite side. While you lay around, floating in the pool, you watched as Rafe watched you in the pool. The sunglasses helped tremendously at hiding your line of vision and allowed you to watch him without shame. His eyes trailed all over your body like he was in a trance and couldn’t choose where to look first.

You sat yourself up on your elbows, tilting your sunglasses down to look at him. When he realized that you were looking at him, he gave you a small smile and a wink. He watched your doe eyes stare back up at him, your bottom lip being pulled in between your teeth while your eyes trailed down his torso. The heat combined with the brightness of the sun cast a light sheen on Rafe’s body. It was making you clench so deliciously around nothing and had you panting like a bitch in heat.

Rafe chuckled as he inspected your behavior around him, but Sarah’s voice hid it well enough to go unnoticed. “Rafe, let’s have a party,” Sarah suggested. Rafe hardly ever said no to a party. Their parents left a lot so they had parties pretty often. But, you never attended them. Parties weren’t exactly your thing. You’d very much rather stay at home and watch a movie. Or the most adventurous you’d get is trespassing on public park grounds after hours.

“I’m down. You spread the word and I’ll get the goods.” Sarah nodded as she began to gather her things, you began to make your way out of the water. Rafe eyed your backside while water cascaded down the smooth brown skin. He stood mesmerized with his tongue in his cheek as your ass jiggled behind you. His eyes never left your body while you walked inside the house. He couldn’t wait until he got his hands on you.

After you and Sarah had settled inside, the two of you chilled inside her room for a bit. “You should come to the party.” Her and Kie always tried to get you to attend one but you always declined their advances. But, Sarah was being very persistent. “Why do you want me to come to your stupid party so bad? I’d feel so out of place. I don’t even have anything to wear.” You tried every excuse you had but Sarah wasn’t budging. “Look. We’re grown-ups now and you can’t just live your life like some virgin loser. You ain’t even had your first kiss yet, darling,” she says as she grabs your face so you’re looking at her.

She was right. You’ve never been more intimate than holding hands. Your parents put the fear of god in you and it’s buried so far down inside of you, that the only way to purify yourself of it is to die. It’s not like boys hadn’t tried, but you’d push them away faster than they could say ‘hallelujah’. You didn’t know what had gotten into you. These kinds of things never worried you before but this crippling fear of missing out has invaded your brain.

You stared up at the pale, peachy-colored ceiling and took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll go,” you mumbled. Sarah began jumping around in excitement, “I still don’t have anything to wear, though. My clothes aren’t very party-like.” You frowned as you thought about your clothing options. They didn’t hug your body or show what you were working with. “Fuck it, we’re going shopping,” Sarah declares as she drags you out of bed.

She convinced you to get this spicy little number that showed off the parts of your body you adored the most. The two of you rushed back to her house so you could get ready. Rafe had already started setting everything up. You were beyond nervous as you’d never done something like this before, definitely never wore anything like this either. Sarah helped you do your makeup, an hour she spent straddling your waist as she focused. You looked like a different person, you didn't even recognize yourself. It was strange. And, your parents would have a stroke if they saw you now.

The house was filled before you knew it. Various stood all over with cups in their hands or they’re making out against the wall, to be honest, you were scared. You’d never seen so much vulgarity. You couldn’t believe you let Sarah talk you into this. Never again would you let it happen. She had the audacity to leave you alone and suck faces with John B. and you were pissed. You stood near the island of the kitchen with a solo cup in your hand. You were drinking the alcohol and it left you with an unrecognizable feeling. But it was a good one. The music calmed you, as did the LED lighting surrounding the place. You welcomed its embrace easier than you thought you would.

You watched over the crowd, continuously drinking as you sat on the counter. It’s been an hour and Sarah still hasn't returned. You feared you looked like a drunken loser. And, you did. Meanwhile, Rafe stood on the other side of the house, directly across from you. His height and your sitting on the counter allowed him to watch you as the hour passed. He battled with whether he should approach you or not. The alcohol in his system lowered his inhibitions and lessened his worries.

He pushed past the intoxicated groups of bodies and reached you. He stood in between your legs while his hands rested on either side of your thighs. Just like in your dream, you could feel the warmth of his breaths against your skin, you basked in it. He invaded your senses. His scent made you woozier along with the alcohol you consumed, he smelled of hints of beer and Bleu de Chanel. His body heat radiated off of him and onto you, engulfing you like a glove. His blue eyes were all that you could see as his half-lidded eyes looked down at you. If you were sober then you’d be questioning how he was able to tempt you like this. You’d do whatever he wanted of you if he asked. And, he liked it that way.

“Hey, baby.” Baby? Did he know who he was talking to? “Hi, Rafe.” He fucking loved the way you said his name, he could feel his cock starting to stir in his pants. “My sister ditch you for that little bitch, John B. huh?” He was sweaty and breathing so heavily. It made you wonder what had him like this. But, you nodded and continued to look into his eyes. “You want me to take you upstairs to keep you company?” His fingers were caressing your thigh at this point. His touch burned you but you liked it. That didn’t sound like such a bad idea. “Yeah,” you whispered to him. He helped you off of the counter and held your hand, pulling you upstairs to his bedroom. He absolutely had no intentions of talking, unless it was to talk you right out of this little dress you were wearing that made his dick jump in his shorts.

Once you were in the quietness of his bedroom, he locked the door behind him. He sat closely next to you on his bed. He eyed your body, focusing on the plushness of your tits that spilled out of your dress. And, your thighs that looked so soft, it made him want to mark them up. Fuck, he had to have you. It made you nervous being under his gaze for this long and this closely. He usually never paid you any attention and now, suddenly, it was all on you. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he started. He stared at you intently, practically moving you on top of him. You were hot all over. “Thank you,” you sounded more confused than pleased but Rafe could sense your nervousness and it was turning him on more than he thought was possible.

His fingers played with your inner thighs, softly drawing circles on them. “You know it’s funny. Sarah would be so pissed if she saw us right now.” You were breathless. And drunk. And so fucking close to him. And, there’s a little voice in the back of your head that’s begging you to get ahold of yourself and go home! But, you had to see this out. Maybe, you’d been praying and pleading with God to allow something like this to happen. Maybe, you’d let Rafe do whatever he wanted to you tonight. Maybe, you were willing to be Eve and let Rafe be the serpent that tempts you.

“Why?” He chuckled and shook his head. You were just a dumb little girl after all. He couldn’t wait until you were his. He’d teach you. And, mold you into his perfect woman. His pretty, pliant princess. “Because she wouldn’t want her brother and her best friend fucking each other. Not if it’s me and not if it’s you.” Everyone and their mother knew you were too good for anyone, especially Rafe. He may have been everyone’s favorite boy but they knew he had a temper on him.

“You wanna fuck me?” Were you in heaven? Like actually? You knew what ‘fucking’ meant but not exactly how to do it. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t making you incredibly wet to know that it was what he wanted to do with you. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded before pressing his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point. “I can’t stop thinking about how that pussy would feel wrapped around my cock, mama.” His fingers were now grazing the poor excuse for underwear that you were wearing. Sarah made you buy some thongs because something about panty lines not being attractive or whatever.

You opened your legs wider for him, which made him groan into your neck. He pulled your panties to the side and was immediately met with your wetness. He softly rubbed your clit, your slick making it easy for his fingers to glide across it, quickly bringing you to orgasm. It happened too quickly for you to provide a proper warning but Rafe wasn’t complaining as he watched you come undone in his lap. Your thighs still shook around his wrist while you came down from your high.

“That was so hot, baby.” He pecked your lips once, then twice. “I’ve never done that before,” you mumbled. You were beyond embarrassed to admit that. But, Rafe managed to calm you down by stroking your arm. “Not even on your own?” You shook your head. You heard Sarah and Kie talk about cumming and how it felt but you could only imagine. You almost did try pleasuring yourself once, but you were already so scared. Your parents were supposed to be out and all was good until you heard your mom calling for you and you never tried again.

Rafe was having such a hard time trying not to rip your clothes off and fuck you beyond repair. So pretty and so untouched. He didn’t care if it was obsessive or predatory, you were going to be his. He was going to make sure of it. “Do you wanna do it again, babe?” After you gave him a yes, he wasted no time in getting both of your clothes off. Rafe couldn’t believe you were letting him do this. He didn’t believe in God and all of that shit but he was silently thanking whoever there was for this moment that he could only dream of. He thought with you being the pastor’s daughter, that you’d at least make him wait. But, you were just as wanting as he was. Or, you were proper drunk. But, that’s not what matters.

Rafe paused before reattaching himself to your body, his eyes looked over it. Admiring it. Was he in love with you? He could picture his life with you. You’d give him a handsome son and a beautiful daughter. And, even after you’ve aged and had kids, you’d still be his beautiful, loyal fucking housewife. Oh, shit. He had to be in love with you. He hadn’t even stuck his dick in you yet and he’s daydreaming about giving you his kids, what the fuck. He’d never felt this fucking giddy about a girl until you. You made him feel like a little schoolgirl with a crush or some shit. It was unnerving. But, right now he was going to make you see God on his cock, and feelings will come later.

He leaned over, scattering kisses around your body. “You’re so beautiful, baby. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” And he meant it this time. As his lips enclosed themselves around your nipple, teeth grazing them, he moaned. “So fucking beautiful, princess.” He was moaning like a slut above you and you were still a virgin in his bed. He was screwed. However, he didn’t see the effect all of this had on you. Your hips were twitching uncontrollably because of the proximity and of him and his words and his actions. You were begging for something, you didn’t know what. But, you were so fucking desperate for Rafe, you couldn’t bear it. You felt tears sliding down the sides of your face, Rafe noticed in his daze which made him stutter a bit. Were you crying?

“Are you…fucking crying? Baby?” His hands caressed your cheeks but his tone was mocking you. And, you liked it. You nodded shyly. He scoffed and smirked, kissing your head. “Why are you crying, hm?” You were too afraid to say that it was because you were inexperienced. And, your inability to do what you wanted was making you frustrated. Rafe looked at you expectantly, even nudging your cheek a bit. You sighed, “I can’t say what I want you to do to me because I can’t articulate it well enough. Rafe, I don’t know what any of this is or how I’m feeling and I need you to-” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t say it. Your one piece of dignity wouldn’t allow you to. “You need me to teach you, baby? You want Daddy to show you how to make yourself feel good when he can’t help you?” It felt like the fucking wind had been knocked out of you as he spoke.

“W-what?” Your eyes were wide. No one had ever spoken to you this way. And, you think you’d be quite disgusted if it were anyone else. But, Rafe was making you leave a puddle on his damn sheets. He situated himself between your legs so that his cock lay flat against your clit. He pushed his hips into you, which caused you to shiver. “I said, do you need me to show you what it feels like to lose your mind?” His hips never stopped moving. And, you never stopped moaning. What the hell was happening? You didn’t know, but you didn’t want it to stop. You were begging God to not let it stop, you didn’t care about any of it at this moment. Not what your family would think if they knew what a little whore you were being for this white boy. And, you didn’t care if you were going to hell, because as long as you had Rafe with you, no place would be as bad. As Rafe humped you into a senseless, babbling mess, your last comprehensive thought was that you now belonged to Rafe Cameron. He was yours as you were his and nothing would be able to change that. You didn’t know what voodoo magic Rafe had coursing through him but you knew you’d never be separated, till death do you part.

His hips stopped when he realized he hadn’t gotten a response. “I can’t hear you, pretty girl. You listening?” You whined at the loss of friction but answered. “Yes, baby. I need you to teach me. Please just fuckin teach me, Rafe.” You didn’t know that you just signed your deal with the devil. When Rafe said teach you, he really meant teach you.

~Now, dearest reader, I beg you let your imagination run wild with that last one.~

That was enough of a confirmation for Rafe as his hips resumed their movement. You were feeling the same things as you did when you were alone but more intense. Your tummy twisted with pleasure as your legs clasped tightly around Rafe's slutty, little waist. Your nails raked across his back harshly, but he didn’t mind. Your legs began to shake and you were panting now. You couldn’t describe this feeling, but you trusted Rafe. If he felt nothing was wrong then you allowed yourself to truly embrace it. He looked down at you, kissing you all over your face. “Come on, baby, you can do it. Give me what I want, can you do that? You gonna make a mess of me?”

You were blinded by white, hot pleasure. Rafe watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he could feel the wet spawning of your pussy against him. You were fucking majestic. He wanted to watch you cum over and over again, that was his goal tonight. You felt yourself grow tired as you came down from your high. Rafe planted kisses all over your face again, “you did so good, baby.” You hummed in acknowledgment, beginning to fall asleep. But, Rafe tapped your cheek rather harshly. “What are ya doing, huh? You thought we were done?” You whined. Your half-lidded eyes stared up at Rafe. “But, Rafey, I’m so tired.” He manhandled you onto your back again, hiking your leg around his waist as he began to line himself up with your entrance.

“That’s not my problem, baby. I didn’t get to cum and you did twice. That’s not fair, princess. Don’t you want Daddy to feel good too?” You nodded, sleepily. “Good girl. Just let me fuck you, and then you can go to sleep, alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he pushed himself into you, bottoming out. He didn’t bother checking up on you as he was fucking for his pleasure now. He moaned at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock, already trying to milk him for everything he’s got.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” He hadn’t felt anyone as tight as you since he first fucked a girl. He began thrusting inside of you, causing the both of you to moan. You were half asleep while he pounded your shit. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and wet pussy, and heavy groans and soft moans. It was purely pornographic. If only God could see you now. If only your father and mother could see you now.

The brutal fucking Rafe was giving you was fast and hard, but he was hitting that sweet spot so deliciously. You were clenching uncontrollably around him as you began squirting around him. When Rafe realized, he cursed under his breath. His hips stuttered as he watched the sight below him. When Rafe saw the tears streaming down your face again, it had him spilling inside of you. Mixtures of curses and groans left him as he came.

His head was in the crop of your neck while you played with his hair. You began to fall asleep again, feeling content just like this. Despite the mess you were laying in. But, Rafe began to move his hips again. Slowly this time. “Rafe, you said-“ “sh shh, baby, just go to sleep. Don’t worry about this.”

#x black reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

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girlwitheconverse · 1 month

Text

STRAWBERRIES

╰┈➤ KEEGAN P. RUSS

Pairing: Keegan x singlemom!reader

Genre: fluff

Story type: one shot

Word count: 2k

TW: unexpected pregnancy

masterlist

You take a sip of your iced coffee, well deserved you must say, as you look around the coffee shop finally relaxing after a stressing day.

Then you remember that it’s still 10 in the morning and that your work break ends in ten minutes.

The life of a single mother of a toddler of four isn’t easy by any means but you wouldn’t change it for the world, you love Ellie, your daughter, too much to even think of a life without her. You remember all the emotion you felt the day you discovered you were pregnant: shock, fear, and excitement; in this precise order. Ellie’s father probably stopped at shock, because the day after you told him you were pregnant you received a break-up message and he ghosted you.

He disappeared. Completely. Even moved out of his apartment.

Your parents? Like the religious people they are…They kicked you out of the house because you had a kid outside marriage! How outrageous of you.

“Sorry? Is this seat free?” a deep voice makes you come back with your mind on earth, you look at the man and damn is he handsome. Black hair, blue eyes, athletic…Definitely your type. Before answering you look around: the place is almost empty and there are plenty of free tables. Is he…Does he like me? Is the first explanation that comes to your mind but you can’t be sure of it: maybe he just doesn’t like to sit alone.

You nod with a polite smile “Yes.”

The mysterious handsome man sits in front of you and places his cappuccino on the table. The air between you two is awkward so you decide to say something.

Because standing up and leaving seems mean.

But before you can say anything he speaks, “My name is Keegan.”

You blink a few times, then smile “I’m Y/n”

He’s definitely trying to flirt with me.

“I’m not usually one to flirt like this so forgive me if I'm straightforward but that's just how I am.” He says, leaving you shocked. “But…I think you’re beautiful”

You notice his ears getting red and smile at the cuteness. “Thank you, Keegan.”

When was the last time a man flirted with you? You can’t even remember. Every time you go out you have Ellie glued to the hip and that makes most men run away. You’d be lying if you said you didn't like the attention.

“Would you…like to go on a date with me?” He asks as he looks into your eyes, he is indeed very straightforward.

“I…” You try to buy yourself time by taking the last sip of your coffee, should I say yes? He’s totally my type…But what if he drops me as soon as I tell him I have a daughter? Maybe I should just see how the date goes and then decide how to procede. Yes. Definitely that. “Why not?” you say with a smile.

He smiles too and Oh God, his smile is so pretty you feel like you’ve already fallen in love. He hands you his phone to put your number in it, you do so and then stand up.

“I need to go back to work, it was a pleasure meeting you, Keegan…I’ll wait for your text then.” You smile at him and walk outside the cafe, already calling your best friend.

“Girl, I need you to babysit Ellie someday…I don’t know when but I’m going on a date with this super handsome guy and-” before you can finish talking your best friend screams.

“Going out with a guy? An handsome one? You? Damn I’ll babysit Ellie anytime! You go get that D while me and your daughter have a tea party while we talk shit about Cinderella, never liked that bitch anyway.” You laugh and can’t help but feel grateful for having her as best friend.

A week later

“Do I look cute?” You ask as you show your best friend your outfit “it’s a picnic date, I wanted to stay on theme”

“You really went for the slutty sundress, uh” she says with a smirk, your eyes shoot wide and you look down at Ellie, hoping she didn't hear the swearword.

“Mommy pretty!” She says as she hugs your legs, you pick her up and kiss her round cheek, chuckling as you need to clean your lipstick off her cheek.

“Mommy loves you.” you say before placing her on the ground, “Mommy is going out with a friend okay? I’ll see you later.”

The doorbell rings and you hold back a scream of excitement before picking your purse and walking outside, making sure that Keegan couldn't see Ellie from the door.

“H-hi.” You stutter as you see his outfit, a white t-shirt and brown pants, he’s holding a picnic basket, nothing spectacular but he looks so handsome. His bicep is so big.

He smiles and you notice him looking at you from head to toe, “Hi…Let’s go, I know you can’t wait to see my secret spot.” He says with a chuckle and you two start walking side by side. You and him have been texting each other for the past week and you discovered that he’s in the military, it now makes sense why he has such perfect physique, you also told him about your job as a banker.

As you walk, you chat about anything and everything, from your favorite books to the most embarrassing moments of your childhood. Keegan is easy to talk to, and his warm laughter puts you at ease. You can't help but wonder what he would be like with Ellie, but you quickly shake off the thought, reminding yourself that it's too early to think about that.

The spots he brings you to is a beautiful park with green grass and flowers, “it’s beautiful!” You say as you look around while he puts a blanket over the grass.

“Next time I’m taking you to the beach.” He says as you both sit down on the blanket.

“I love the beach!” You say excited, it’s been so long since you felt like this…Like a woman and not only a mother. “And I love sushi too…” You say as he takes the food out of the basket.

“Yeah, you already told me that a few times by message.” He says with a chuckle, remembering how you spent more than twenty messages talking about sushi.

“It was my worst craving when I was-” You stop before you can say too much, you still haven't told him about Ellie “When I was sick a few months ago, but the doctor said I couldn't eat any.”

He shakes his head and hands you a pair of chopsticks, “Oh, I almost forgot” he says as he picks from the basket a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

“The wine too?” You say shocked but with a smile on your face.

“Of course.” Keegan puts some wine in a glass and hands it to you, “to this date.”

“Hoping that this will be the first of many.” You add before you take a sip of the wine.

You two spend an hour eating and chatting before you lay down on the blanket with a sigh and a smile “I’m so full!”

“Even for these?” Keegan asks as he takes out of the basket strawberries that have been dipped in chocolate.

“I’m never full for these” you say with a chuckle.

“Say ah…” He says as he picks a strawberry and places it near your mouth, you blush but let him feed you the strawberry.

The sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry floods your mouth, followed by the warmth of Keegan's gaze. You blush profusely, your heart pounding in your chest as he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You sit up and pick a strawberry, “say ah…” you say as you feed him the strawberry, he laughs but lets you feed him. “ops, you’ve got chocolate here” you say before kissing his lips. He’s frozen at first and you think you’ve gone too far, but then he places his hand on the back of your head and deepens the kiss.

The kiss is a heady, intoxicating rush that seems to consume every part of you, spiraling through you and leaving you breathless, your senses filled to the brim. The world narrows down to just the two of you, and for that moment, nothing else matters. As you reluctantly pull away, still caught in the lingering haze of the kiss, you can't help the bubbling laughter that escapes your lips. Keegan, ever so stoic, stands there looking utterly bemused, that stunned expression on his face worth a thousand words.

"That was... unexpected," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a thrill running down your spine. There's a hint of a smile playing on his lips, a soft, almost shy admission that echoes your own feelings.

A month and a half later

You’re panicking as you text to Keegan, cancelling the date (one of the many you two had in the past month and half) last minute because your best friend just told you she has a fever and can’t babysit Ellie. Is also too late to call a a babysitter, so you don’t have any other choice if not to stay at home with Ellie…Ellie, whom you still haven't told anything to Keegan.

I’m getting deployed tomorrow after lunch, we won’t see each other for two month after that…You really can’t come?

I’m sorry but my stomach hurts so much, I just got my period :(

Then I’m coming at your place with some chocolate ice cream and chips

You really don’t have to

Too bad I'm already in my car.

You sigh you look at the text and sit on the couch, damn him and his perfect personality. Maybe it’s the universe telling you to stop hiding the truth from him, to stop ignoring the elephant in the room.

“Mommy look!” Ellie says as she shows you the drawing she just made: some yellow on top of the paper and then blue on the bottom, “It’s sea!” With that you realize that you were holding the drawing upside down.

“Oh my! It’s so pretty! This definitely goes on the fridge” you say as you stand up to put her drawing on the fridge, next to your favorite drawing she made: the one with the two of you.

“Yay! Mommy likes it!” She says as she jumps up and down happily, you pick her up and kiss her cheek.

“Listen, Ellie, mommy’s friend is coming here and you need to be a good girl okay?”

“Auntie?” she immediately thinks of your best friend.

“No, not Auntie, another friend.” As soon as you say those words the doorbell rings.

You place Ellie down and walk towards the door, when you see Keegan standing outside with his hands full of snacks your heart breaks because of all the lies you told him but now is the moment of the truth. Will he run away? Will he get mad? You couldn't really blame him if he did so, not after all the lies.

You smile, “Thank you, really but…I need to tell you something…”

“What’s wrong?” He asks worried, but before you can speak a little voice behind you speaks and a little head pokes out the door.

“Mommy friend came?” Ellie asks as she looks up at Keegan with her big eyes. The man looks at you confused and you give him an awkward smile.

“I think it’s better if you come in.” You say as you let him in, Keegan enters and places the snack on the coffe table in front of the couch in the living room.

You place your hands on Ellie’s shoulder and take a deep breath, “Keegan, this is Ellie…My daughter”

To say that he’s shocked is an understatement, he stutters for the first time since you have started dating him, “w-what?”

“I shouldn’t have hidden this from you and i’m so sorry for my stupid actions I was just…afraid I guess at the thought of losing you.” You admit and Ellie looks up at you with a confused expression, you don’t want her to think that you don’t love her.

“You thought I’d leave you because you have a daughter?” He says even more shocked than before.

“That’s what most men do when I tell them.”

“I am not the type to do something like that, I love you and the fact that you have a daughter? Just makes me love you more” your heart flutters as he drops the l-word and your cheek flush red.

“You love me?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Damn if I do!”

“I love you too…And I was so scared of losing you, I’m so sorry…” You say with a smile, he smiles back and then crunches down to Ellie’s height, smiling at her.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Keegan, mommy’s…friend” Keegan says with a smile as he holds out his hand towards Ellie.

“Hi I’m Ellie” Your daughter says as she puts her small hands in his, shaking it clumsily.

It was such a sweet moment and you were almost tearing up when, “Are you my daddy?” Ellie suddenly says. You choke on your own saliva and Keegan laughs, shaking his head.

“No…Not yet at least” Keegan says as he smiles up at you.

“Watch Mulan with me?” Ellie changes subject immediately, very much toddler like, and pulls Keegan towards the couch. You can’t help but laugh as you look at the two of them playing together, feeling like you just found the missing piece of your puzzle, which is now perfect.

Ugh, this probably sucks and I’m sorry but I recently got back to writing and I’m trying to stay consistent to it :(

If you liked the story don’t forget to like, reblog and maybe even leave a comment :)

And remember, my inbox is always open for requests! even anonymous ones (emoji anon too!)

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hecateslore · 1 month

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💗🎀

If you don't celebrate easter you can just ignore this, cause I know not everyone's religious (I grew up in a predominately catholic home 😃) and I'm not religious anymore soooooo ye.

"Oh my good Look at this!" You screech from excitement, The very dusty bunny costume in hand. Your mom sat next to you, baby photos in hand.

"We should put it on NovaLynn," She suggests, Your babygirl sat in her grandmothers lap playing with the small toys that used to be yours. "Simon!" You yell from downstairs, He comes prancing down the steps shortly, "Look," you smile holding up the easter bunny costume. "What's that?" He says walking over to you three. "It's my bunny costume," You hold it out to him, "It's kind of small no?" You roll your eyes at his corny joke.

"Take a look at this," Your mom hands him the photo of you as baby, wearing the exact same bunny costume, "Doesn't she look just like NovaLynn?" Your Mom, "Dead on." He looks at the photo intently.

"So what's this for?" Simon hands her the photo, taking the costume instead. "For Easter!" Your mother says, You grab Nova from her.

"You don't celebrate Easter?" Your moms brow raises exactly like yours does. "Mom," You warn her, "Uh, no." Simon chuckles awkwardly, "My family, didn't like the holidays." He nods.

"Oh I'm so sorry," She apologizes, "It's fine." he waves her off, taking Nova from your lap, "That's why we have these guys, right?" He places a kiss on her chubby cheek.

You stood with your camera in hand, trying to get your toddler to smile at the camera, "Look at me, Nova," you coo, holding the camera up to your face. Simon stood right next to you, doing funny faces, everything in his power to make her smile for the photo.

When you finally got a decent photo, you sat on the floor looking through all of the ones you were gonna print out on your computer. The two bins filled with your baby things tucked away in the corner of your living area.

Simon got up from where you both were sitting, "Can I have a look?" He says, pointing at the two boxes. "Mhm." you hum.

"I would've had a total crush on you in school." He looks over you high-school photo album. "No you wouldn't," You snort, looking through your baby photos again. "Yeah I would." He flips through the pages.

"What's this?" He holds up your old Lisa Frank notebook, that had "Sketchbook" written over pink zebra print tape. "My old drawings," you gush, Simon opens the book immediately hit with the smell of Crayola's. "That's lovely." He chuckles at the drawings of mermaids.

"How cute," You hold up your Communion dress and veil, "Tiny wedding dress?" He smiles, confused but in awe of you. "No it's my communion dress." You gush.

"Oh god, I remember being so scared this day." You chuckle, searching for the photos.

Simon watching you, "This is cool." He announces, "To have stuff like this." You stop searching, and turn to look at him, "Are you okay?" Concern on your face, "Just sometimes wished I had something like this." He brushes it off, "But I'm alright," he rubs your back in assurance. "You can start now," You say, "You can give Nova something to look back at when she grows up."

"yeah," He says quietly, "we can print out photos and make photo albums." You rattle on, "Mhm." His eyes on the veil adorned with white beaded flowers. You follow his eyes and then look to the communion dress again, "I'm so glad she doesn't have to do that." You admit, "Why?" Simon places the veil on your head, and you let him "I remember feeling so much pressure at such a young age, and feeling like you couldn't do anything because someone was always watching." You admit while he adjusts it, "I always felt like being a normal teenage girl was wrong, and oh my god when I found I was pregnant with Nova and Not married, I could've sworn I felt the ground opening." You chuckle.

"You and Johnny," Simon chuckled, "I think it's catholic guilt." You snort. "I didn't go to church." Simon says, "I always wanted to though, just to see, And the first time I did was with Johnny." He says.

"Did you like it?" You ask, "It was okay, but I don't think I would do it every Sunday. " He chuckles, "Oh my." You chuckle and roll your eyes. "It's not for everyone. I just did it out of habit, and also so I didn't go to hell, but here we are." You shrug and Simon lets out a small laugh, it quiets down over time, "I prayed when Nova was born." Simon admits,

"I was scared, and I didn't know what to do but I remembered the prayer you said in the shower when you pregnant; Sometimes, when I'm away I say it."

He grabs the small patent leather shoes paying attention to the embroidered design, "Sometimes I think, maybe I've lived this long because of The baby and You, and God knows the lengths I would go if something ever happened to You or her.." He pauses, "So he backs off, and lets me have what I love." Simon looks over at the toddler quietly snoring in the playpen.

"I don't think God is cruel enough to make you suffer anymore loss," You say, rubbing the nape of his neck. "He mad a man choose a Him over his child, I think he's capable." He snorts. "Oh so you listen to my mom when she goes on her rants. " You chuckle. "They're a little over the top but, I still listen." He shrugs.

You shake your head, "She's something." You sigh, "You're a wonderful Dad, Simon." You look in his brown eyes, "She loves you, and So do I." Simon places a kiss on the crown of your head, and gets back to fishing through the box full of baby photos.

what if I told you this was the week before Johnny died... 😆

#Papa!Simon #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mw3

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oddduckthatgirl · 9 months

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Pray For Us Sinners

Title: Pray for Us Sinners

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Warnings: religious guilt, religious themes, discussions of sexual themes, smut

Summary: Aemond thought himself to be a devout servant of the Seven. Until her.

A/N: I tried. Really. Don’t hate me.

Aemond rolled over, restless in his bed. He growled in frustration. Sweat covered his bare torso, the sound of his own breath was ragged in the darkness. His thoughts drifted to his betrothed; even his darkest ones. The brush of the cover over his hardness made him groan.

He was beyond frustrated. His stones ache with the memory of her laughter. He longed to hear all the sounds she could make.

Tossing the covers off his overheated body, he begins pacing the floor of his bedchamber. He never felt temptation like this before. He is a faithful servant of the Seven, despite the wrath he would love to unleash.

Lust was a new affliction to him, but he’s seen through his brother exactly the ruin it can bring. Aemond had decided long ago he would not be seduced into depravity like weaker men. He always kept proper distance with any woman he encountered. Never letting his gaze linger too long or speaking in a manner that would be offensive.

Deep down, he did not believe women to be less. They are mothers, sisters and daughters and should be treated with dignity. He couldn’t understand why anyone who called himself a man could hurt these precious gifts from the Seven. It was true he had seen a few women he thought were attractive but he put them out of his mind. They were allowed to just be beautiful without him imposing himself on them.

It was so simple. Until her.

Aemond thinks of the day they were introduced. He was convinced this would be a marriage of convenience. To keep the peace. Her family were very devout followers of the Faith and his grandsire thought the match to be amenable. Mother believed this girl to be an ideal match based on her faith and her love of reading. Aemond thought she sounded pleasant enough according to the letters; that her portrait was pleasing.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her leaving the carriage that day. The way her golden hair shone in the sun. The shade of pink that painted her cheeks when her dark eyes met his pale one. Her voice saying “my Prince” was the finest song he had ever heard. The way her dress accentuated her shape without it being vulgar. Everything about her is exactly as it should be and more.

Then this feeling began. He was always hot blooded, fire beneath his skin. This, however, was different. Every word she spoke, every shy glance his way, and every touch burned through him. No woman he had ever met had this effect on him.

He decided that he would have to devote himself even more to the Seven. He needed guidance and strength. He knew he deserved it. All he needs to do is ask and the Seven will grant him all he needs.

He doesn’t wish to insult his lady or her virtue. He wanted to be the husband she deserved. She is a pure lady and shouldn’t even be in such lecherous thoughts.

Their wedding was in a sennight but it might as well be six moon turns away. He longed for her presence beside him but it was agony. He wondered if she felt this burning as he did but of course he couldn’t ask. That would be improper. He was sure she felt something. Her face flushes when he kisses her hand. Her breath catches when he pulls her close.

….but his lady wouldn’t trade in depravity. She spends much time in prayer, which he has taken to accompanying her to the Grand Sept. However after seeing her kneel in prayer, that pose has been imprinted into his mind. He had great difficulty concentrating on anything but how tight his breeches had become.

Ashamedly, he has used that image of her kneeling to sate his lust. He imagined standing in front of her, fingers tracing over her perfect face. The way her breath would catch when he said her name. Asking her to show him her devotion. The way she would accept his thumb pushing past her lips. The feeling of her hand unlacing his breeches. How warm her mouth would be as she took his cock. The sounds she would make.

Aemond played these thoughts out time and time again. Especially at night. Sleep would elude him for hours and even if he did drift into slumber he would dream about taking all the pleasures of the flesh with her. He would take his cock in hand, hissing with the first stroke. Never had he been so hard that it hurt. He wanted her, every way he could. Pumping himself while thinking of her lips on him instead of his hand made him a simpering mess. Writhing against the cool sheets of his bed, his moans echoed off the walls. Once the tightness would begin to coil, he would cup his stones while he fisted himself with a tighter grip. His peak would wash over him in moments; her name falling from his lips.

He could find sleep after that but when he would wake shame gripped him. He hates himself for his thoughts and actions. He would pray to the Father to not succumb to this weakness and to be forgiven for wasting his spend on his own pleasure. He would find it difficult to meet the eyes of his Lady the rest of those mornings. She would smile shyly at him and he was once again lost.

He was desperate about these feelings, so he turned to Aegon. Thinking that perhaps just once his brother would give helpful advice.

“Claim her, brother,” Aegon whispered, “all that needs to happen is ceremonial at best. The only way to get rid of temptation is to give into it.”

“We must be wed first. I will not tarnish the good name of my Lady or her house!”

“You fucking virgins. So consumed with your purity and chastity. It’s just fucking.”

“It is NOT just fucking. You give a piece of your soul to them. Every time. Perhaps that is why you have none left.”

“Save your lecture. The only other option is to relieve yourself anyway you can. There’s always the street of silk….or you do it yourself.”

Both options were not what Aemond wanted. He wouldn’t lower himself to visit a pleasure house. Relieving himself was the only suitable option, even though the thought filled him with shame.

It began only at night, after he was alone. Then he would find the need arising after breaking his fast with her and then again after any time spent together. It was affecting his training; he was distracted. He didn’t even read as much as he once had. His thoughts were consumed with her and his need to claim her.

He gripped the edge of his desk tightly now just to keep his hands away. His need is throbbing, begging to be touched. He slammed his fist down against the wood. Why was he so weak? Then she would drift into his mind: her hair falling over her shoulders, the look of complete devotion she has, the cut of her dress…

No! Aemond shakes his head as if to throw the thoughts away. He tries to think of anything else. Small council meetings, mother’s singing, time…yes, what time has it become?

Aemond gathers it must be near the hour of the wolf. The city is sleeping soundly while their Prince suffers. Lust has a hold on him: mind, body and soul.

His soul. That’s it. Now would be the best time to pray. Surely with the world asleep the Seven could hear his prayers without question. He hurriedly dresses, puts on a dark cloak and makes his way from his chambers down the secret passage that leads out from the Keep.

The streets are nearly empty except for a few beggars sleeping there. Aemond is careful to ensure his face and hair are obscured from view. No sense in any passerby to question the presence of a Targaryen Prince at this hour.

Concentrating on his journey to the Grand Sept keeps his mind busy. The need still burning in his veins feels less desperate for the moment. Thankfully the distance was enough for him to calm himself. He’s grateful that he will be able to have his wits about him for this.

He opens and shuts the doors as quietly as possible. Not that he believes anyone would be here, he still wouldn’t want to disturb them. He stands in the entryway and takes a breath. His mind is more quiet now.

He walks towards the altars, confident in what he will ask for until he hears a sound that stops him.

Her. His Lady. Begging.

“Please Maiden, I wish to be pure for him. These desires are consuming me. I do not want him to reject me. I carry such affection for him in my heart. But my thoughts….,” she lays prostrate while sobbing into her hands.

She does feel what I feel. I also carry much affection for her in my own heart, Aemond mused. He cannot bear the sound of her tears. His chest aches to hear her in such pain. He wants to rush to her side, take her in his arms, and hold her until the tears abade.

He slowly approaches. He doesn’t wish to startle her, “my Lady?”

She pulls herself to her knees and turns to face him, “my Prince! Why are you here at this hour?”

He rushes to keep her from standing and instead kneels beside her, “I was restless.”

Her breath catches as he wipes the tears from her eyes, “thank you,your Highness.”

“It’s just us and the Gods. You may call me by my name here.”

Her cheeks flush, “as you wish Aemond.”

His resolve nearly breaks at just his name from her lips, “what troubles you? I would be happy to listen if you wish to unburden yourself to me.”

She begins to speak but silences herself for a moment, “I cannot tell you. This…it’s not befitting a proper lady,” tears well in her eyes again.

Aemond pulls her into his arms and holds her while she cries. Even though the sound breaks his heart, he will not leave her to her tears. Running his fingers through her hair, he presses a gentle kiss against her temple, “all will be well ñuha jorraelagon. I’m here.”

“Not if I unburden myself. You will be completely repulsed.”

He takes the edge of his cloak and begins to wipe the wet trails on her face dry, “you would be amazed at my resolve.”

“I have no doubt of your resolve Aemond,” she wheezed as new tears threatened to fall, “it’s so shameful I fear you will find me to be unworthy of marriage.”

“No more tears. Please. It wounds me to see you so distraught,” he takes her hands in his, “perhaps we can just be still for a few moments. Find peace in this Sept together. Will you try for me?”

She frantically nods her head.

“Good. Let us close our eyes and just breathe together.”

He watches as her eyes close and she bows her head. It caused the fire in his blood to heat once more. He quickly closed his eye and began to concentrate on keeping his breath steady. He also listened for her. He tried to not think of how warm her soft hands were in his. He needed to be strong for her. To help her.

They sat quietly, hand in hand for several moments. Aemond noticed when her breathing became calm. Tension rolled out of his shoulders knowing that at least he could help calm her.

“Aemond,” she whispered in the silent chamber, “why could you not find sleep?”

He opened his eye to see her soft expression. It was one of concern. He kissed her hands before meeting her gaze, “sleep has been elusive as of late.”

“Are you well? Is it,” she glances at his scar, “perhaps the maesters….”

“All they will wish to do is give me essence of nightshade to help me find sleep. Or worse believe I have pains and wish to give me milk of the poppy. Those are not the reasons I do not find sleep.”

“If it is not physical, may I guess you believe something weighs on your soul?”

He swallows thickly, “Something does indeed.”

“And I have kept you from your prayers. Forgive me.”

She begins to pull away but he grips her hands tighter, “please. Stay with me.”

A soft smile accompanies her words, “of course Aemond.”

“I would like to propose something. First I swear to you that no matter what you may say, I will never judge you or wish you gone from my side. Can you make me the same promise? To not judge me or wish me gone?”

“Yes. I swear.”

Her tongue wetting her lips nearly has Aemond lunging for her. He shifts his focus back to their joined hands, “I did not intend on anyone else to be here. When I entered and heard a voice, I thought….it isn’t important. I heard the last part of your prayers.”

Hanging her head in shame as he mentions her prayer, “I am not worthy of you.”

He leans forward so their foreheads touch. Aemond feels a hot tear slip down his cheek, “it is I who isn’t worthy of you.”

She shakes her head, “impossible.”

“Ñuha jorraelagon, the things I have wanted…from you…someone must know what I have imagined. What I have done.”

“Aemond,” her voice waivers, “it is shameful. This sin...”

“We are all sinners my Lady,” he states simply, “we are asked to unburden ourselves with confession. It is only then we can begin to do penance and seek absolution. It should not matter who we give our confession to, just that we make it known and seek to atone for it.”

“You are correct,” her gaze shifts to the face of the statue before them, “I don’t even begin to know how to atone for this.”

“Would it put your mind at ease if I told you of my sin,” a plea in his voice. He needs her to hear him. That is the price of his lust.

“Could you tell me what is your sin?”

He nods, swallowing his fear before he speaks, “Lust. Lust for my betrothed.”

She draws a shaky breath. Her eyes drag over his body, “I too have lust for my betrothed. I have tried so hard to not think of you that way…”

“In what ways do you think of me, sweet girl?”

“That you are a good man. You are kind, despite what you would have others think. You are a man who values his family and those he holds dear. Unlike other Targaryens, you are a man of the Faith.”

“You are too kind to me,” a genuine smile is on his face, “but that is not what brought you to the Sept at the hour of the wolf. I swore not to judge you. I will not.”

She closes her eyes, “it’s just….your hands. I find myself thinking of them. How it feels when you take mine in yours or how safe I feel when you hold me. Then I wonder about your hands on….other parts of me.”

Despite her confession, Aemond takes her hands in his. His chest is heaving; he can feel his heart pounding. The fire is back, “Other parts?”

“Yes,” her own ragged breath sounds too loud in this place. She places his hands on her thighs, “everywhere. In my weakness, I have imagined what your hands would feel like on my bare skin. In….inside me.”

“Tell me,” he flexes his fingers away from hers while dragging them toward her center, “you are a lady of virtue. What do you know of a man’s fingers touching a lady?”

She bravely meets his gaze, “My sister….she never wanted for me to suffer at the hands of a cruel lord. She told me things about my body, of pleasure. Things I now imagine you doing to me.”

“What things,” he felt as though his senses had left him. He’s now so depraved that he’s harder than he’s ever been, on his knees in a Sept alone with his betrothed.

“Things,” wetting her lips before she continues “I have done with myself alone in my chambers at night. I would imagine you touching me instead. I’m so lost to my sin that I wait for the night to come so I can revel in my depravity. It consumes me.”

Aemond gently cups her cheek. He does not trust himself to leave his hands on her thighs, “You desire me.”

“Yes,” no second thoughts to her answer.

“Then I have nothing to fear. For I have desired you from the moment we met,” he brushes his thumb over her lips, “this very moment I am fighting the desire to capture your lips with mine.”

She gasps, parting her lips. His fingers trace a line down her neck and along her collarbone. His eye focused on the swell of her breasts and the small hint of cleavage.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms and you are mine. You don’t even know how beautiful you are. The hold you have over me. I would burn every city in Westeros if they dared to speak against you.”

“Aemond….”

“I want to spend every moment with you but I am weak. Even the most innocent way you smile makes me think of all the ways I wish to let this realm know you’re mine. My shame doesn’t end there my lady.”

She kisses his fingers and takes his hands in hers as if they were folded in prayer, “unburden yourself to me, my love. Although my love sounds much better the way you say it. I wish I could say it well enough.”

“You will learn,” he suppresses a groan at the thought of hearing her speaking High Valyrian, “the reason I could not find sleep is I was trying to resist my desire. Today, while we had walked in the Kingswood, that rider passed too close to you. Do you recall what I did?”

“You pulled me back against you, to keep me safe.”

“I did. However, in doing so, my thoughts were not innocent. The friction of your body against mine was too much to bear. When we returned to the holdfast, I excused myself from you. I was worried that I would no longer be able to control myself. I went back to my chambers and lost myself in the thoughts of claiming you. In truth, when I felt your body against mine, I wanted to bury myself inside you.”

Her mouth went dry.

“I went back to my chambers because I needed to relieve myself, as I have done every night. So, I fisted my cock while thinking of how warm and wet you would feel around me. About the sounds of pleasure you would make as I touched your pearl while thrusting myself deep inside you. I can think of nothing else. I have my hands on my cock more than my sword.”

It felt too hot in this stone building. Both of them flush with color from their shared confessions.

“Whatever are we to do Aemond,” pressing her knees against his, “we are not yet wed. We cannot let this control us.”

He nodded and cupped her neck in his hands, “it will not control me any longer.”

Aemond stands and offers his hand to help her from the floor. As soon as she is standing, he pulls her body against his. Her eyes dart around the room, “Aemond!”

“Did you make the journey here alone my Lady,” he purrs in her ear. She can only meekly nod in response, “good.”

He presses his lips to hers and both of them moan. Luckily their sound is muffled. He was desperate and wanting. She was pliant in his arms. His hands explored the curves of her body, squeezing the parts he enjoyed the most which elicited a gasp from her.

He silences her with his lips again, swallowing every groan he makes. Her hands travel along the lean muscles of his torso and chest, then up his arms, only to land in his hair. When he slipped his tongue between her lips, her grip tightened in his silver locks. It only seemed to encourage him more.

He pulled away suddenly, “we shouldn’t be doing this here. Someone will find us. Surely the Septa’s will be here for their morning prayers soon.”

She nodded in agreement.

“Come. We should return to the Keep while we still have the cover of night,” Aemond pulled his cloak back over his head and ensured she also concealed her identity. He watched for anything out of place, “stay close to me.”

She could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. It made her center ache with want. She knows she cannot give in but she would like nothing more.

They quietly made their way back to the Red Keep. Thankfully no one was yet out in the city to have seen them. Aemond led her up the stairs to the passage back to his chambers.

Once inside, he removed his cloak and saw her taking in his space. Soon these would be their apartments in the holdfast. He stands behind her and whispers, “let me take your cloak my Lady.”

She watches his hands slip to the clasp of her cloak. He was painfully slow opening it but once he removed the fabric, his lips were on her neck. Soft, warm kisses up to her jaw line. He pushed himself against her backside, “see the effect you have on me.”

He spun her around and again captured her lips. He couldn’t get enough. It was like he had been starving. They both held so tightly that she hardly noticed his hands pulling a leg over his hip until she felt her skirts rise.

“What are you,” yelping in surprise as he lifts her with ease to the foot of his bed. Shame burns within her as she whines, “Aemond…please…we cannot.”

He climbs over her body as she lays against his bedding, “I will not take your virtue this night. But it would please me to hear more.”

Before she can ask what he meant, he grinds his manhood against her clothed center. Their shared moans ring through the chamber. He repeats the motion to much the same result.

“Do you wish me to stop,” his eye meeting hers as he kisses the swell of her breasts, “I will ensure you get back to your chambers without being seen.”

“Please continue,” she rasps, “I fear I might die if you stop.

He chuckles darkly and continues, “gods…I can feel your wetness through all of our clothing.”

She attempts to cover her face but Aemond claps his hands around her wrists, pulling her arms over her head. He kisses down her neck as he rolls into her, “Gieve. Just like this. Never hide from me.”

She wails when his movements become faster. She locks her legs around him. She feels the way her body begins to tighten. She has never felt this, even when she is by herself, “Aemond…what’s…I feel strange…”

“All is as it should be,” panting as his pace is beginning to falter, “don’t fight it. Give into it.”

He kisses her again, the want evident in the way he captures her lips. They are both a whining mess of sound and heat.

Aemond feels her hands tightening against him, “let go for me. Don’t fight it.”

His eye goes wide as she falls over the edge of pleasure. The sounds she makes goes directly to his cock. Soon after he shouts her name as he spills into his breeches.

He pulls himself to lay beside her. He takes her hands and presses soft kisses on her fingers, “please forgive me. I have forced this upon us. I thought I could control it. Instead…”

She watches as panic paints on his face. She quickly reaches for his face; he doesn't shrink away even as she is touching the scarred side.

He pulls himself into her and sobs, “please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I told you I was not worthy of you.”

She strokes his hair, “we promised not to judge the other. I am not judging you. You asked if I wanted you to stop and I did not. We should seek the forgiveness of the Seven for failing this small test.”

He nods as she rocks his body, “we should pray. Now.”

“I agree.”

He sits up and offers a hand to her. He kneels first. Looking up at her he sighs, “you are far more than I deserve.”

She kneels in front of him, “you are more than I deserve my Prince,” shame heats her cheeks, “what if someone hears?”

“Not here. The walls are quite thick,” his gaze fixed on her.

“We should begin,” she bows her head and begins her prayers with thanking each of the Seven.

Aemond joins her, repeating the same words he’s heard since he was a boy.

He also offers his thanks when they have finished, “I wish to thank the Maiden for sending this perfect wife to me. I’m sorry that I would let my lecherous thoughts taint her purity. Forgive her slight as I was the one who enticed her. I seek the Father’s forgiveness for my weakness. Give me the strength to not tempt her or myself further.”

“I thank the Father for sending me a man of Faith as my husband,” she smiles at the words, “forgive his slight as he did nothing to sully my virtue. He is but a man and I, a woman. I seek the forgiveness of the Maiden for my vile thoughts. Help me to not be a temptation. Let my virtue warm him until we are wed.”

The silence between them is broken by Aemond, “we shouldn’t…we cannot do this again even though it was…”

“Yes. Even though,” she agreed, “I should go.”

He nods in agreement, “at least let me lead you back through the passages. They can be confusing.”

She grabs her cloak and allows him to escort her back. She more than likely would have lost her way on her own. He pushes the hidden door open and listens for any sounds, “it is safe.”

She enters her chambers, “it will be morning soon.”

He presses a soft kiss against her forehead, “then you should try and find rest. We will have long days and longer nights ahead of us.”

“Go before I ask you to stay,” sighing as he releases her.

He takes one look back at her before disappearing into the passageways. Now that he is alone with his thoughts again, he relives what has occured. If he can endure this night, six more days should be far more simple.

Aemond settles himself back into bed as quickly as he can upon entering his chambers. He nearly drifts off when a sweet smell drifts to him. Her. The fire in his veins is rekindled.

“Seven help me.”

#aemond smut #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #oddduckthatgirl #prayforussinners #aemond x you

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little-diable · 9 months

Text

Our sinful secrets - Priest!Loki (smut)

Y’all voted for priest!Loki, so here we go. This is super filthy, as a warning. Please like and reblog, if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Laufeyson went with the reader’s father to war, returning with him years later. Many things have changed over the years, just like the reader has, finally all grown up and ready to sin with the handsome priest.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral (m), age gap, secret relationship, loss of virginity, religious connotations, power play

Pairing: priest!Loki x fem!reader (4k words)

“Stop fidgeting, (y/n).” Her mother’s sharp voice rang through the afternoon, forcing (y/n) to stand still. She had been shifting her weight from one foot to the other, eyes focused on the end of the street their house had been built on. Her heart was racing, fingers interlaced in front of her waist in order to stop them from moving around with her nervousness filing her veins.

“When do you think–” the rest of her sentence was left unspoken as (y/n)’s eyes found a black car turning into their street, driving towards their house. A cry left her mother as the car came to a halt in front of their house, exposing the man the two hadn’t seen in years.

(Y/n) stumbled down the stairs with tears rolling down her cheeks, her mother hot on her heels. Before either one of them could speak another word (y/n) had flung herself into her father’s open arms, pressing herself as close to him as humanly possible. Her mother followed her movements, pushing herself closer to him with cries leaving her.

“How I missed you two.” The all too familiar voice of her father left (y/n) chuckling with glee, finally stepping away as someone cleared their throat, forcing all eyes to snap towards him. A man with black hair stood a few steps away from them, smiling at the two women whose eyes flickered between the ones of (y/n)’s father and the ones of the stranger.

“Girls, do you remember Priest Laufeyson? I invited him to stay with us for a few weeks, at least as long as the wounded soldiers are still taking up the church rooms.” The handsome man stepped closer, allowing (y/n)’s eyes to wander up and down his frame. Fuck, had he always been this handsome? (Y/n) couldn’t remember much about the man who had joined her father at war, giving those in need a guiding hand, taking their pain and sorrows from them.

“Of course we do, what a joy to see you, Priest Laufeyson! A man of God is always welcomed to stay with us!” (Y/n)’s mother wrapped her arms around the priest, pulling him in for a loving embrace before she searched the closeness of her husband again. “Please, come inside, we’ve prepared some food!”

“Oh please, Loki is just fine, Anne! Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home.” His voice shot shudders down (y/n)’s spine, leaving her choking on the improper thoughts filling her mind as her gaze found the cross dangling from his neck. (Y/n) could almost imagine it hitting her chin as he fucked her, how she’d gasp whenever she’d get to trace the cool metal with her curious fingers.

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n), do you still remember me?” It took her a few seconds to reply, trying to wet her all too dry mouth.

“Uhm, yeah, I think so?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the words rolling off her tongue, forcing a smile to widen on her lips as she followed her parents inside. (Y/n) could feel his eyes on her, studying her every move as if he was all too aware of the thoughts racing through her mind. She tried to wreck her mind for any memories, days where their paths have crossed, but all (y/n) could now focus on was the burning fire simmering deep inside of her, about to take over like the waves of the roaring ocean had taken over God’s first try to create this very world.

“Please, sit, (y/n) will help me bring out what we need.” A sigh threatened to leave (y/n) as she followed her mother into the kitchen, not daring to look back in fear that the handsome priest was still looking at her, forcing her knees to give out. (Y/n) didn’t speak a word as she kept carrying different plates and bowls filled with food out into the dining room, catching a glimpse of the man’s neck as he undid his collar, placing it down on the table with his rosary following moments later.

“Mhm, look at you pet, I should paint you, naked with just my rosary on.” Heat flushed through her as she looked up at the man. She was kneeling in front of him, naked without any clothes on to hide the body he had claimed numerous times before. His marks littered her skin, marks from his teeth, his lips, and his fingers, marks (y/n) never wanted to get rid of. “I can’t wait to feel your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, but first, you shall read to me.”

Trembling fingers grasped the bible he reached out for her to take, glassy eyes struggling to take in the words that had been printed into the thin paper. His hands began to move, slowly popping open the buttons of his black shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her wide eyes. No air was sucked into her lungs as (y/n) averted her gaze, desperately trying to concentrate on the psalms he wanted her to read.

“Are you alright, (y/n)?” Her father’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, trying to bite down the heat that now flushed through her. Without even trying to do so her eyes found Loki’s, the smirking man was already staring at her, as if he knew just what she had been thinking of. A small “Yes” left her before she sat down next to her mother, across from the grinning priest, whose eyes kept meeting hers like a moth drawn to any source of light.

“Why don’t you pray for us, Loki?”

……

“I didn’t take you for an early riser, (y/n).” His voice was softer than any fabric she had ever touched, eyes threatening to flutter shut to relish in the emotions he pushed through her system. She turned towards him, staring up at the priest who smirked at her, one hand holding onto a cup of coffee, the other grasping his bible. “May I?”

All (y/n) could do was nod her head, watching him sink down on the cold wood leading up to the entrance of their house. It was still early, barely any people were roaming the area, nothing but the all too familiar quietness (y/n) had learned to appreciate after being forced to prepare for bomb raids, not adjusting well to the sensory overload.

“Can I ask you something?” Her small voice broke the quietness, coaxing a hum out of the man who kept watching her, studying the woman as if he was a book written in a foreign language, needing to figure out its meaning.

“What did you do at war? Did you pray with soldiers?” He took a sip of his coffee before he placed it down, body fully turning towards (y/n). Their eyes met just like they had moments ago, forcing her to straighten her posture, not wanting him to ever avert his gaze again. She could almost feel his hands on her skin, how his thumb would stroke over her swollen lips before he’d push his digit down on her tongue, preparing her for his cock. Fuck, she needed to snap out of these daydreams of hers, quickly.

“I did, I prayed with those that were close to dying, with those in need of a guiding hand. Whoever needed a calm word, I was there for it all.” A proud smile tugged on Loki’s lips as he reminisced in the memories, making (y/n) hum in approval. She had always been intrigued by religion, by God, and by the holy book, even though she wasn’t nearly as religious as her mother. “If you want to, you could join me when I visit the church today.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” (Y/n) averted her gaze, eyes finding her hands, watching how she fumbled with the fabric of her dress. Before she could even catch up with his movements, the priest had softly grasped her chin, touching her as if she was the holy book itself, careful not to hurt her. He tilted her head up, forcing (y/n) to get lost in his piercing eyes.

“I’d be an honour to have you there with me, I’m sure you’d be a joy to have around for those that are still struggling as well. Please, join me, (y/n).” Her cheeks grew warmer by the second, eyes struggling to hold contact. No man had ever managed to hold such a power over her, forcing her to back down from any fight she’d gladly take on.

“It’s been a while since I’ve stepped foot into a church, if I’m honest.” Her voice wavered, teeth buried in her lower lip. His chuckles had an addictive touch to them, forcing a few soft chuckles out of (y/n).

“Well, it’s been a while for me too, love. You have nothing to worry about.”

……

(Y/n)’s eyes didn’t know where to look first, at the wounded soldiers pacing around the quiet hallways, at the altar that pictured Christ and the heavy wooden cross he had once carried, or at the white collar that was wrapped around Loki’s throat. He guided her, hand placed on her lower back, murmuring soft words to her, explaining to her who was who and how some of these people have ended up here.

“How do you know all of this? I thought you hadn’t been here since the war had started?” Both were sitting on a wooden bench, eyes focused on the cross, watching the sunlight break through the colourful glass windows. It felt as if God himself was speaking to the two, with the dancing sunrays telling a story of love, of lust, of heartbreak.

“The nuns around here mailed me enough letters to keep me updated, they told me about those that were brought here, those that died, who I should pray for with them from afar.” Her eyes were drawn to his fingers, watching his digits fumble with the beads of his rosary, focusing on the silent prayers he should speak.

“I admire that, it must have been hard to be so far away. I missed my father every day, but I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel to miss your home, your church, and those that work with you in God’s name.” Loki’s hand found her knee, slowly stroking the fabric of her see through tights. Goosebumps rose on her skin, body trembling from the soft touch that felt as if the holy spirit itself was guiding the priest.

“It was hard, but I was surrounded by people who gave me enough strength, like your father. I owe him a lot for his kindness, and yet here I am, betraying him.” The last part of his sentence was whispered, quiet words that left (y/n) frozen, wondering what the priest was talking about. He drew his hand from her knee, finding its way back to his lap, to the rosary that dangled from his other hand.

Once again (y/n) found herself dreaming of laying close to the man, she could almost feel his soft fingertips stroking up her spine, drawing shapes into her skin as if he was writing words into the body he had claimed the night prior. God, she’d burn in the eternal fire for her sins, but (y/n) couldn’t care less about what may await her, couldn’t worry about the punishment for her sins, all she could care about was Loki, the priest she found herself longing for.

……

“You like this spot, don’t you?” His voice ripped her out of her thoughts, eyes fluttering up from her book to look at Loki. The sun was just about to go down, drenching the sky in a deep orange that left a shadow on his features, making him appear like a demon crawling from the ashes rather than a man walking with God’s grace guiding him.

“It’s so calm out here, I enjoy it more than the thin walls in our home that don’t seem to swallow whispers and conversations I’m no part of.” Slowly she closed her book, letting it rest on her lap as she kept tracing the worn out edges with her fingertips, waiting for him to move closer.

“Well, I don’t want to disturb your peace.” Priest Laufeyson turned from her, about to walk back inside, but the small “Stay, please” rolling off (y/n)’s tongue left him halting in his step, turning back towards her to sit down on the spot he had sat on this very morning.

“Can I ask you for your guidance?” All he did was nod his head, asking her to speak on without using any words for her ears to pick up. He watched her, watched how she furrowed her eyebrows, how she grazed her lower lip with her teeth, her nervousness thumped through her system, leaving (y/n) trembling.

“Is it wrong of me to want something I should have no interest in having?” (Y/n) avoided his eyes, not daring to get lost in the pupils that have seen more darkness than a woman like her could even dare to think of. His hand found hers, squeezing her palm in a comforting manner.

“It depends on what it is you desire. Tell me, what is it you so desperately want, (y/n)?” The longer he spoke, the quieter his voice grew, eyes turning darker with every word he spoke. Both knew that they were walking a dangerous line, crossing a border far deeper than the trenches the soldiers had been forced to hide in as they fought for their country, surrounded by soil so rotten and dark, no living being could escape death’s cold grasp.

“Priest Laufeyson, I-” no further word managed to roll off her tongue, nothing but a breath of air managed to leave her as their eyes met. Both moved slowly, chasing their touches even though both knew that there was no going back once their lips met. It was a slow kiss, it had something almost loving to it, allowing the two to adjust to the new sensation.

“You’re testing me, sweet thing. It feels as if God is trying to see how loyal I am to him. But how can I deny such a sweet temptation?” His words forced a soft laugh out of (y/n), pulling away from him to watch the setting sun with her racing mind. Without speaking another word, his hand found her chin, making her look at him so that he could chase her lips again. Both found themselves longing for one another, they have tasted the sweet temptation, have given into Lucifer’s call, there was no escaping from the hell they now called their home.

“(Y/n)? Is Loki with you? We are about to have dinner.” Her mother’s voice echoed through the evening, forcing them to part with wide eyes and heavy breaths ripping through them. Their lips were swollen, pupils dilated from the lust swimming in them, a sight so sinful even God would turn away from them. Loki cupped her hand, thumb swiping over her lower lip like he had done in most of her daydreams, forcing heat to pool between her thighs.

“I’ll come to your room tonight, leave your door unlocked, if you want to wait up for me.” And with one last glance thrown her way, Priest Laufeyson disappeared inside the house, leaving (y/n) behind with a confused, hazy mind.

……

“Shh, you have to be quiet pet.” His voice broke through the dark night as he pulled her into his embrace, pushing (y/n) against the now locked door of her room. Their lips found back together, eyes fluttering close to relish in one another’s touch, making them feel as if the world had stopped spinning.

“You’re the sweetest temptation He has ever sent my way, I’ll happily sin if it means getting a taste of you.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her moans from rolling off her tongue, spurred on by his praises. No clear thought managed to break through the hazy cloud of lust filling her mind, forcing (y/n) to rely on his guidance, like a lone sheep lost from the flock He guided.

With their lips still pressed together, Loki pulled her towards her bed, pushing (y/n) down on the mattress. His knees kept pressing against the edge of the bed, allowing him to stare down on her as his slender fingers began working on his black dress shirt, falling to the ground with his collar following. (Y/n)’s eyes ranked over his naked upper body, sight caught on the cross dangling from his neck, reminding her of the daydreams that have left her heart racing and her thighs quivering.

“Take off your dress for me, let me see you.” She couldn’t stop shaking as she pulled her dress over her head, exposing her underwear to the man’s curious eyes. Almost as bare as Christ on the day of his crucifixion did (y/n) kneel for him, knees pressing into the soft blanket of hers. His fingers danced along her arms, finding the straps of her white bra to pull them down her shoulders, undoing the piece of fabric to let it fall to the ground. “Such a pretty sight, may He forgive me for tainting a pure body and soul like yours.”

“Can I touch you? Please, I want to feel you.” Her quiet whispers filled her room like a prayer spoken in an empty church, echoing through the hallways. Loki kept studying her, hand resting comfortably against her cheek and jaw before he nodded his head, stepping out of his trousers. His raven dark hair perfectly framed his features, reminding her of a demon that had crawled straight from hell, one with the darkness of its home, one with the sins it commits on a daily basis.

His hand found hers, guiding her towards his growing bulge, cock pressing against the thin fabric of his underwear. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on his hands, watching him free his cock, allowing her to marvel at him as he shot her an encouraging smile. Not once had she touched a man before, and yet (y/n) found herself grateful for the books she had read, stories no woman should ever read, and yet her curiosity had spurred her on. She trusted her instincts, softly wrapping her hands around his cock.

“Use your mouth, pet.” She hesitated for a second before her eyes fluttered up to meet his. Slowly (y/n) parted her lips, tongue stroking over his precum-bearded tip, moaning at the taste. The priest’s hand found her hair, guiding the slow bobbing motion of her head, groaning whenever she choked on his cock, too eager for her own good. Saliva dripped from her mouth, making a mess neither (y/n) nor Loki could care about.

Both knew that they were sinning, breaking a promise they have once sworn to live by, and yet sinning has never felt this good. Their bodies moulded together, perfectly complementing one another like lovers made to love, to support, to guide. An unbreakable bond started to form between these two beings who shouldn’t do the things lovers did in the dark.

“Fuck, feels like you’re holy, you’re too good for me, but I can’t get enough of you.” Loki’s words made her want to smile, struggling to move the corners of her mouth, stretched by his heavy girth. Whenever he twitched in her mouth, an unfamiliar spark was shot down her spine, making more arousal pool between thighs. Their eyes met as he jerked his hips, forcing her to claw her fingernails into his thighs, holding on as he abused her mouth.

Jesus had died for their sins, but not for sins this devilish, for acts so dark, for acts so wrong, for acts that made them both want to leave their belief behind, following the call of darkness.

“I want to fuck your mouth full of my cum, but for now I need to feel your cunt around me.” With a harsh tug (y/n) was turned around on her bed, face pressed against the covers that haven’t ever been blemished with what the priest was now doing to her. She trembled, needing to hold onto the soft fabric as her nervousness got the best of her.

This was new to her, completely new, but (y/n) trusted the man, laying her fate in his holy hands. She felt his fingertips graze the back of her thighs, pulling her soaked panties down her legs, letting the cold air lingering in her dark room clash against her dripping cunt.

“Deep breaths for me, love, I got you, let me take care of you.” A moan bubbled out of (y/n), eyes squeezed shut as she felt the tip of his cock brush through her folds, slowly spreading them. With one last shaky breath inhaled into her lungs, (y/n) forced herself to relax, allowing him to push into her cunt.!

For a few seconds neither of them dared to move, while (y/n) tried to swallow down the unfamiliar stretch, Loki had to force himself to calm down, not daring to hurt her with rough thrusts that would leave her crying and begging for him to stop. His fingers danced up and down her sides, stroking soft patterns into her skin till he felt her relax once again.

The priest started with slow thrusts, giving the both of them the chance to adjust, to get to know one another’s body. The cross dangling from his neck clashed against his front with every thrust, leaving God shaking up above, covering his eyes as one of his most trusted men went against his every law. But she was worth breaking them all, was worth the heaviest sin.

“Tell me, love, how does it feel? Talk to me.” She tilted her head to the side, warm cheek pressed against the covers to give herself enough space to speak up. Her voice trembled, just like her body, and yet her words dripped with lust, telling the priest everything he needed to know.

“So good, never stop touching me, please Loki.”

A sharp breath was inhaled into his lungs as he clicked his tongue, tightening his grip on her hips.

“That’s not how you shall address me, you know better, pet, don’t you?” His voice had an unfamiliar touch to it, leaving her heart racing and her cunt clenching around his cock. It took her a few moments to speak up, eyes squeezed shut to try and find the right words he asked her to speak.

“I’m sorry, father.” Her teeth were forced into her swollen lower lip, leaving marks he’d soon kiss with his tongue, swiping along the soft skin. A satisfied hum left him, grinning down on the woman he kept fucking with thrusts that kept growing rougher with every passing second. No longer was he holding back, no longer was he trying to be gentle with her, chasing his release.

Loki could tell that she was close, about to let go for the first time with a man around, for the first time with a cock buried inside her tightness. (Y/n) had to force herself to remain quiet, not daring to wake her parents, not daring to let them in on the secret that would lay heavy on their hearts.

„You can let go, give in, love.” With another moan leaving her, (y/n) gave in, eyes rolling back into her head, hands tightening their grip on the covers. He fucked her through her high, leaving marks on her as he kept holding on, pulling out of her to release himself on her behind and thighs.

“Here, let me clean you up.” Loki let go of her, moving slowly to reach for some tissues, gently cleaning her up. No words were spoken, guided by their tiredness. She turned towards the grinning priest, chuckling as his lips met hers in a soft kiss. With his hand cupping her cheek, he looked down on her for a few more seconds before he let go of her, “This has to be our sinful secret, I’ll expect you in the confessional tomorrow morning, love.”

#Loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine #priest smut

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