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ophelieverse · 1 month

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I have an idea,Lia angel🪽can you please write Daemon x Hightower!reader where she is Otto youngest daughter and she is religious like Alicent and her father betrothed her to Daemon?Maybe with a little bit of 😏😏Thank you my angel🤍🤍

⊱ •There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

-Summary:In order to gain full power,Otto Hightower betrothed both of his daughters in the House of the Dragon.

-Warnings:Age gap,a little bit of smutty time,religious topics.

-Thank you for requesting and let me know what you think🫶🏻🩷

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The wind that caressed her bare back no longer carried with it that scent of saltiness that had weighed down her nostrils and kneaded her mouth,while sobs,wheans and bells had shaken her violently in following the ship and the wake of foam that moved away from the beach of Dragonstone and disappeared beyond the horizon.

It had become a pleasant breeze with floral and fruity hints,which rippled her skin filling her with chills,although Lady Y/n Hightower,youngest daughter of Otto Hightower the Hand of the King,was not cold.

She could not feel cold under the scorching sun of the island on which she had been abandoned by her family.Her father who gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and her older sister who cried silently with her,to be alone with her betrothed,the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, not when it was her own body that radiated heat,turning it on from the inside.

Maybe earlier,those days were her father gave her the information of his new plan.Before,perhaps,she had perceived the icy breath of what being married to a man like her future husband would mean,but now... Now those endless tears that had blinded her eyes and moistened her beautiful face had also dried.

«Father,Smith,Warrior,Mother,Maiden,Crone,Stranger.»Y/n whispers those names in her mind with her eyes closed,as if praying could purify her of what is happening to her body.

By the way Daemon hands creep under her nightgown and run through her skin,lingering on places she never dared to explore even on her own.Her hands instead she’ll the rosary of the Seven,to prevent herself from pushing him away or to bring him even closer.

Her whole body felt on fire,her immaculate skin was covered in goosebumps as the night sky engulfed her figure.Daemon had been waiting for her body,for her mind,soul and heart to be completely his.Maybe he suggested to Larys Strong to suggest to that cunt of her father to have her hand to him out of spite,maybe he did because Y/n had always been kind and gentle towards him unlike her father.

What he was certain of was that in that moment she looked like a holy figure,with her hair all sandy,her lips swollen,the skin of her jaw still covered in spit and wine.She looked like one of those gods that she loved tho pray and only now,taking in every inch of her body,he understood why people were religious.Why they needed something to turn to,someone to get on their knees for and chant their names.

Daemon wasn’t a religious person,but he liked to think that the gods had made Y/n just for him.

It was easy in the beginning,when it all started just to see Otto Hightower rage as the prince gave his younger daughter all those attentions.But after a short time,Daemon started to realize that there was something more that was pushing him to always look at her,to caress the back of her neck,to toy with her hair.

It was only when she told him that she prayed for him every night before going to sleep,that everything changed.No one has aver prayed for Daemon,maybe his brother had prayed him to change,but he never went down to his knees before his bed and asked to the gods to always protect him.

From that day he started to pay her more attention,to see the shy way she carried herself,always looking down at her feet,never saying anything without being asked.Always at her father side.She was wasted like this,such a young and beautiful girl that could bring the whole world to its knees to worship and cherish her just like the goddess she was.

When Daemon had caught the whispers of her father wanting to send her back to Old Town to become a Septa,he had to intervene.

He knew Y/n wouldn’t never gave herself to someone like him willingly,not without a promise.And so it was done,in less than a month they would’ve been husband and wife and he could have all the time to see her shine for who she really was,without the dark cloud of her father shadow on her.

Daemon wanted her to want him as he wanted her.Desperately.He wanted to make her shiver from his touch,he wanted to hear her voice breathless and shaky.Oh he wanted to hear her say his name like a prayer,like he was her new god.Full of devotion.

«You should stop crying,Y/n,am I hurting you?»Daemon murmured above her chest,his eyes not leaving the precious and untouched skin of her breast.

«T-that's not what I want.»she lied,her voice was weak and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Daemon takes her nipples in his mouth,one at a time and she can’t stop them from becoming erect and turgid.Her mother made her believe that no one could suck her breasts except her children,that sex was only meant for child-bearing but right now Y/n feels anything but a mother and a pure virgin.She felt dirty,she felt like a whore,she felt good for the first time in her life.

«You are a liar.»her betrothed taunted her,his rosy lips were soft,his tongue warm and wet made her thighs clench.

«Father,Smith,Warrior.»she whispered again,one of her hands was now grasping at Daemon long silver hair as he groaned.

Y/n dwells on those figures with a hint of fear,aware that none of them will come to save her now.Not her father who sold her to the Rogue Prince in marriage.Not the warrior,her sworn protector,that was waiting at the castle for Daemon to be done with her before escorting her to her maidens.In the absence of the smith,her father trusted a demon,Larys Strong,and his advices to strength Alicent oldest son claim to the throne by forging their union just to have Daemon on their side against Rhaenyra when war will come.

«You want this.You want me.»Daemon said looking up at her with lustfull eyes,releasing her nipples.

Y/n face was burning red,her lips were quivering with soft prayers«You should s-stop.»she pleaded.

He was still holding her,his fingers felt like pure fire on her ribs.He kissed his way down from under her breast,savoring the sweet perfume of strawberries and the clean and sinful taste of her immaculate skin.

«Stop where?Here?»he asked,he bit and sucked right under her ribcage making her gasp.

His hands were hiking up the gown of her white nightgown,the smooth and silky texture of her bare legs made his head spin.

«Daemon.»she called for him breathlessly.

«What do you want?Tell me,my beautiful princess.»he whispered.

She tries to stay motionless like a statue,but her body trembles,quivers,while he puts a finger in her and then a second, making her find her more wet than she would have liked.

Her language pronounces aloud the names of the Seven,to prevent herself from yelling at him to stop or to keep going forever.

«You want all this, you want me.»he reminds her,taking in all of her beauty.

«How could I?You're a horrible man.»

She spreads her legs wide and feels him rubbing the tip of his manhood erected against her opening without daring to enter yet,and she hates herself for how reflexively she pushes her pelvis against him,for how she widens her legs even more.

«Maybe you're horrible too.»

Y/n head was spinning and it was difficult to remember how that change had happened,how she had started crying at the betrayal of her family when shortly before she had found herself aching for him,for the man above her as the most unfortunate of disasters;nor how she had come to grasp with her lips a pasty and strong flavor, capable of awakening every sense,capable of awakening in her new desires and instilling new life in her.

When Daemon had walked her to a secret area on the beach of Dragonstone and eased her thirst with the most intense,tasteful wine of the known world she had found herself on her knees for him.Till a week before she used to lift her gowns and get down only to pray her gods,now she was doing for the man that her father had raised her to despise and she loved it more than the gods her mother had taught her to worship.

Then she had found herself laying on the cold and wet sand,Daemon on her like a beast on the pray.

Y/n followed with her tongue the route of a thick drop and found a small bump in her mouth.She enclosed it inside and sucked so as not to disperse any of the spicy notes of that purple liquid.The fingers that had played with his long moon hair tightened their grip in a tacit warning and she chased another trail finding herself flattening her tongue on solid muscles,provoking them with the tip to make them contract and relax to their liking.She sucked in other stylls and bit the skin she found underneath to memorize its texture and remember how even the salty of the sweat could turn into sugar.

She knew that the gift,which was dripping from that chest and which had been offered to her so generously, was not to be wasted and she would savor it greedily.

«Good princess.»Daemon had praised her,his eyes,of the same color of the wine,capturing her every movement.

Y/n blinked and the blurred view allowed her to admire the work of a skilled sculptor.The advent of the chest she was worshipping,stained with other droplets waiting for her passage,caused a wave of desire in her belly.Those paths she was entering would soon lead her to the place where she would finally find peace and a new pang of anticipation caught her unprepared.

She strove to bring back to mind how she ended up like this,on her knees for him.A man with the blood of the dragon in his veins,a man who was undoubtedly a deity:he had dazzled her with an estatic vision of immortal creatures singing and dancing,so colorful and lively that he enchanted and chained her to them.And that drink she had tasted first from his cup,then from his hands and, finally,from the rest of his limbs.

Y/n kneeling between the sea and the rocks, looked up at him eyes and,all of a sudden,she didn't care about anything anymore.Her pupils burned,foamed like the liquid she was collecting,and rested her soul.

Then she had found herself underneath him and somehow,she also founded the strength to pray for forgiveness.For the person she was about to become,for the person she was letting him create.

Maybe she was horrible too.

«I want to be.»she whimpered against his mouth«I want to be just like you.»she pleaded,scratching down his back,the rosary long forgotten on the cold sand.

Mother,Maiden,Crone.

Y/n turns to those names but without really praying to them:she thinks of the Mother,the one that she had lost,the one that she had watched her sister turn into and who is the only definition their father had imposed on both of them,of the Maiden who she is no longer,of the Crone who she does not want to be yet.

And never,never,never like right now she was just Y/n,a woman,as she feels the member of Daemon finally slip into her to its entire length.The intrusion snatches a cry of surprise from her,but even though it’s the first time she feels no pain and she is amazed.

Her lips opens immediately when Daemon one’s looks for hers,his tongue caressing hers slowly as his arms brings her impossible closer to him,almost as he wanted to be one with her.

«Tell me that you are mine,Y/n.Not your father,but mine.»Daemon sounded desperate,moving in and out of her at a languid pace to savor more of the gentle creature he was corrupting.

«I’m yours.»she immediately answered him with a little moan«And you are mine?»she still had that white innocence in her that made him fall in love with her.

«Soon we will be one under the blessing of the Seven.You are mine and i’m yours.»he promised her and she believes him,he’s her new god,one that was created only for her to worship just like he worship her.

Daemon enters and leaves her at an increasingly rapid pace,sinking more forcefully at the end of that provocation;it should be a punishment, perhaps,it is instead for Y/n is a relief.It’s not a torture,not when he fills her,but the emptiness he leaves when all of this will end.She hates how her body does not consider that as a shameful act,making love before being married on the beach,a humiliation,as,in spite of everything,even her mind recognizes that disgract on his virtue infinitely more pleasant than the honest marital duty that her sister had told her about.

Stranger.Stranger.Stranger.

There is no other god left,as she opens her eyes and feels lost in her own release that hits her like the waves that crush on the shore.Daemon is not far behind her,his lilac eyes shining in hers as he empties himself in her.

Y/n surrenders to him,to the only true Stranger she knows,and thinks that after all she could also die in that moment,because she is dying less now than she died for all her life.Because being with Daemon couldn’t be worse than being with her father,because the unprecedented heat that explodes inside her suddenly can be nothing more than death itself.

She opens her lips and Daemon is the only name she outrageously prays as she opens her hands to hold him now to herself,to draw him closer instead of pushing him back,while he sinks for one last time.

The rosary breaks and the beads fall to the sand,like the gods it represent.

«I’m sorry.»he says.

«Everything is alright.»she says back.

Daemon lays on her and begins to caress her with an unexpected and inconsistent sweetness,like that remorse to which she gives voice,but which she understands after all.He would not have been able to ask for all this without offering her father to marry his daughter,because,in any case,if he had only asked for a fun night together she would have said no.

But now of her rabid cruelty nothing remains but a painful fragility;he is a god who falls too,a god who bows to her.It's ironic how she almost feels obliged to console him,to thank him for taking her away from her father hands.

«Thank you,my prince.»Y/n whispered.

Deamon closed his eyes,laying on her bare chest and enjoying the warmth of her skin«You're the only beautiful thing I will ever have,Y/n.I will make you a happy wife.»and he sounded sincere,she believed him.

Father,Smith,Warrior,Mother,Maiden,Crone,Stranger.

She no longer worships the gods now,because they are cruel,those who brand such a sweet pleasure as a sin.

She doesn't think about the gods anymore,Y/n, because now she knows what it means to be human.

There is no longer any god,not after the Hour of the owl,when Daemon gives unconditional whispers,love and mercy.Because he no longer needs blackmail as a pretext and Y/n no longer has religious images to hide behind.It was only them now,to believe in and to love.

«I love you.»he says

«I love you too.»she says back.

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spectral-snippets-and-drabbles · 9 months

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A Martyr From the Ashes

For everyone in the fandom saying saying that Danny thinks Martian ManHunter is cooler than Superman, we don't really see it all that much in writing.

I'mma try and fix that...

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The Martian Book of Legends held the heroic tale of Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun of Mars, a sickly albino priest of a small town that held marriages, sermons regarding life and how it should be enriched and lived to its fullest, and specialized in funerals that used cremations with fire, a feat thought to be physically impossible by the masses. As people saw him look into the flames without fear while others cowered, rumors spread that the young man was blessed by H'ronmeer himself, the Martian God of Fire, Life, and Death.

People spoke about how Da'han'yul turned down all attempts at courtship, for he had decided to dedicate his life to bring light in the darkest times to all lives in the name of his God. He was a thing of beauty with a gentle soul and shy demeanor, even the Red and Green skinned who had still held a firm belief on the caste system could not deny his charm. How the terminally ill Martian carried on his mission with a smile, nobody knew.

However, tragedy struck on the day that should have spelled the beginning of the end for the Martian people. A parasitic species had invaded the Martian Homeworld and was causing untold havoc. As civilians fled from the threat and prepared a counter offensive, it was Da'han'yul Fen'tuun who charged into the danger headfirst to save his people from becoming prey.

As others pleaded for him to run away, in a great bright flash of light, a gigantic Martian loomed over the enemy emerged where the ill Martian stood, coated in flames in a form they've never seen before with a halo and body that burned a haunting green.

The deafening silence still held as the enormous creature brought a massive fist on the giant pale walker that was destroying homes. A wave of its hand sent a wall of green flames raced towards the foot soldiers, reducing them to ash while his people and buildings were not harmed in any form without an ounce fear of these fires the creature used to purge the enemy. Within the hour, the threat had been neutralized and peace was brought back to the red planet.

As the Martian people looked to the titan, they knew. H'ronmeer's had chosen his most loyal servant, Da'han'yul, as the avatar of his wrath to smite those who would bring his people harm. The people hugged and wept tears of joy and cheered for the priest and H'ronmeer for saving them, but the tears soon became tears of sorrow.

The giant groaned in pain as he fell on one knee as it began to crumble into ash before the people's very eyes. Like a flame, Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had burned his brightest when life needed him most, and now death called to him as it slowly extinguished it to give him peace. With a final message, he pleaded to his people to come together as one and to not see one another as lesser or greater than, but as equals who can help one another in the darkest of times and the hardships yet to come. With his final moments gone, a final telepathic embrace was given to all before he fell silent for the last time.

The massive pile of ash that were his remains was brought back to his little village and made into a beautiful garden of ash in the temple where the newly titled Saint made his home in, where it would be made a holy site that many would come to give their thanks and pay their respects for H'ronmeer' and his champion alike.

And for centuries, peace was held before it was shattered by Ma'alefa'ak, who unleashed the Fire Plague to take vengeance on his people for his inability to experience the psionic way of life that was the norm. His smile as his people screamed in anguish was knocked off his face in the most literal of terms when a Martian struck him down and had him by the throat.

A Martian with eyes burning in anger as Ma'alefa'ak failed to break free and was being beaten severely for his crimes against the people of Mars. A Martian made entirely up of ash and green embers.

Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had returned, if only for a moment longer. And he was not happy.

Quickly, one by one across the planet, the martians set ablaze burned a gentle green that healed them. In this miraculous act of divine intervention, not a single Martian had lost their life. Most were now unconscious with labored breathing being heard.

J'onn watched on as his brother screamed in agony as his body burst into green flames as a pool of ash began to swallow his brother whole. Before disappearing entirely, Da'han'yul told him the punishment his brother would be facing.

"Ma'alefa'ak's psionic abilities have been awoken. He will be sentenced to become a living flame until he has lived the collective life span of all that he has tried to extinguish."

J'onn was too stunned to speak. With how long a Martian can live, it was the equivalent of telling him his brother would be suffering for an eternity. It seemed unethical, but he knew his brother had dug his own grave the moment he saw the reanimated remains of Da'han'yul Fen'tuun's ashes take swift action.

"Everything will be ok now, J'onn. Go to your family and tend to them.

"Da'han'yul...Thank you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you when you were still alive." J'onn solemnly uttered as he looked to the ground, unable to look at his deceased youngest brother.

"Nonsense J'onn, it's not your fault...The caste system...it–"

"I could've done more! Instead I saved myself instead of being there when my brothers needed me most!"

"J'onn...you were just a child."

"It makes none of it right!"

He was right in that aspect, but it still didn't feel right. Ma'alefa'ak' was ostracized by society, was treated like a freak of nature for lack of natural gifts and he wanted to burn society to the ground in the most literal of terms because of it.

While Da'han'yul, the forgotten youngest brother, was treated horribly for being albino and treated cruelly. He contracted a deadly disease when he separated himself from the family to live in isolation with other albinos that made him sickly and cut his life expectancy down severely. Knowing what befell him, seeing him struggle to move and hold down food at times while J'onn and their parents did nothing.

These tumultuous emotions sat in J'onn for so long. The way he wanted to go and help them both, but the fear of association and social punishment for merely being seen with his brothers made him cry when he younger for being so weak willed. It wasn't until their parents bragged about the sacrifice their forgotten child had made, the sone they purposely scorned made him snap.

"J'onn, promise to keep my message alive for me. Help our people become whole again."

"Of course, brother." Is what J'onn tells him as he watches his little brother vanish again for a third and final time.

#danny phantom #justice league #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #martian manhunter #The extinction of the martian people was never sullosed to happen #So Danny decided to fix it and was reborn into martian society #He was severely disappointed by the caste system so decided to dk something about it #Danny reincarnates into a little brother for Martian ManHunter because he still sees him as cool #H'ronmeer was the last dying god of Mars and accepted Danny's help to save his people.#M'gann is the first to find out that Danny is her uncle Da'han'yul Fen'tuun and she's going to pass out from shock #Danny is just going say 'hello J'onn' and just combust into green flames and go for the hug #Everyone is freaking out but are more surprised to see that he's hugging back with the same intensity and crying just as hard #Imagine being told that your coworker's little brother is a minor deity in his planets religion who saved Mars TWICE

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incorrect-hs-quotes · 6 months

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KARKAT: BUT CAN A CIS GUY DO THIS? [DROPS PANTS. MY DICK JUST FUCKING FLOPS ONTO THE FLOOR AND BOUNCES AWAY]

ERIDAN: once in school i wwas wwalkin dowwn the hall at a brisk pace wwearin dress pants n boxers and my (HOMEMADE wwith nylon stockings + condoms + gak) packer just fell out a my leg n rolled dowwn the hall a little wways

ERIDAN: thankfully the only other person in that hall at that time wwas gamzee makara the wweird stoner theology / philosophy student wwho rode his bike around the halls sometimes and he literally just looked at me and said "Aw BrOtHeR. i HaTe WhEn It DoEs ThAt" and wwalked awway

#source: @anosmic-sheep #its hard for me to imagine gamzee as any type of student but if he WAS then i just know hed be a theology student #hed go to clown religion class and do his clown religion homework #and also philosophy cause hed just write all this shit about miracles #hed have such a good time writing miracle essays and doing his clown homework #homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #incorrect quotes #mod dave #karkat vantas #eridan ampora #gamzee makara

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spencerslover-blog · 1 month

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I wanna love you but something's pulling me away from you. Jesus is my virtue and Judas is the demon I cling to. I'm just a holy fool, oh, baby, it's so cruel but I'm still in love with Judas.

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bottombaron · 2 months

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you know, i can handle a little bit of fun "Nandor is dumb" talk, but i have a net-zero tolerance for any implication that Nandor is not educated.

Nandor would have been incredibly educated in his lifetime.

even (or especially) as a soldier in the Islamic World. being a soldier was more like getting sent to boarding school that's also a military camp. they weren't just concerned with creating loyal fodder for war. they were building the next government officials, generals, accountants, advisors, etc. it was important that young men knew how to read, write, speak multiple languages, learn philosophy...sometimes even studying art and music was mandatory.

if he was nobility (and its most likely he was), take all that shit and multiply it exponentially. Nandor would have been reading Plato at the same age most people are still potty training. he would have been specifically groomed in such a way to not be just a brilliant strategist and warrior, but also diplomate and ambassador of literally the center of scientific and cultural excellence of the age.

so like yeah, he can be a big dummy sometimes, sure. but that bitch is probably more educated than any of us will ever be.

#wwdits #nandor the relentless #Nandor #what we do in the shadows #i think its obvious by how much Nandor loves to read that he grew up educated #it's one of my favorite character traits of his #anyways #this was just your local psa abt the depth of Nandor's character and intelligence #and how the medieval islamic world was like - so much more advanced than it's western counterpart it's hilarious how ppl mischaracterize it #(by hilarious i mean it makes me want to break something)#this was in my drafts lolol what did i read that made me vent this? idk #also 'islamic world' is just a term some historians use to describe a specific geographical location and historical age #kind of how 'western world' is used today #it doesn't mean it's specific to one religion or nation but the broader time and location #meaning that Al Qolindar or Persia or Ilkhanate or w/e you want to call where Nandor came from #the same expectations of education and it's vibrant social/cultural world remain an accurate image of the middle east in the medieval age #if you come from the west like me #think The Forum + The Library of Alexandria + Paris/Florence + and idk anything else u think of when u think of 'Western Excellence'#and then imagine of all of that in one place at one time and then u might get close to what the world Nandor was living in as a human

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minasvalentine · 1 month

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the trailer for season 2 is living rent free in my head, I mean- AEMOND ?!

#cause you‘re my religion !!#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #game of thrones #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon season 2 #hotd #smut #smuttish #aemond targaryen x reader #hot #he‘s a god #x reader #aemond targaryen imagine

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sadesluvr · 18 days

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Sins of the Flesh

The one where a religious housewife fights temptation with her gardener.

(JJ Maybank x Reader)

A/N: Second JJ fic! (I haven't forgotten about The Hills!!) This was based off of Charlotte & Trey’s marriage in Sex and the City, specifically the episode where she kisses her gardener! Also, based off Gaby & John in Desperate Housewives, but less weird. Reader is literally the both of them combined, with religious guilt turned up to 100. Check the tags before reading, and minors DNI.

This is a long one, so the ending is a little rushed…Enjoy!

Also credit to @starfxkr and @dulc3vida for their lamb! readers which was a big inspo 🫶🏼✨

Word Count: 5K

Tags: SMUT / Slow burn / Themes of religion / Blasphemy / Infidelity / Cuckolding / Religious guilt / Lots of discussion about pregnancy / Misogyny, kinda / Kook! Reader / Moments of soft! JJ / Unprotected sex / Oral sex, F receiving / Creampies / Corruption & Religion kink / Dirty talk (JJ is a yapper)

Gif by @cyberpunkes !

Your dreams always started off the same.

The sun peeked through the sheer linen curtains, warm rays tickling your nose as it whispered to you that dawn had arrived. Gently, you brushed the sleep away from your eyes as you writhed amongst your silk white sheets, morning breeze making your sensitive nipples harden ever so slightly. As you awoke from your slumber, you stroked the opposite side of your bed, frowning as you found it to be empty.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, glancing around the room in search of something familiar. The hand carved dresser in the opposite corner? Check. Your Bible on the nightstand? Check. The soft, distant cries of a baby from another room? Unfamiliar.

It was always then that you’d wake up, coming to realise that your dream wasn’t so far from reality after all.

You lived on Figure Eight, a place where only the wealthiest and most desirable citizens resided in white palaces with acres of greenery surrounding them. Of course you were no exception; having married an heir to an automotive company just under a year ago.

It wasn’t as if you were unfamiliar to a life of luxury - you’d been born a preacher's daughter right up until you’d become a wife - and had always been told that God had intended for you to be more fortunate than those around you. Yes, you worshipped the crucifix, but yours had always been diamond encrusted. It was just what God wanted.

Much more than anything else, it was your duty to continue his wish by remaining a virgin until you were married, and subsequently continuing the lineage with children of your own.

Apparently, that part did not come as easy.

Hank, your husband, had insisted that it was nothing more than a case of trying, yet at every turn seemed to fail. You’d begun to have a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t a problem on your end, but his, despite his growing insistence otherwise.

Each passing day meant that your biological clock ticked away, and it was weighing on you that you were failing at the one thing you’d given most of your life towards. On days like these, the only thing that brought you peace was your garden, its lush greens and vibrant purples reminding you of the hours spent at the community garden of the chapel of your fathers church.

Things, whilst relatively breezy, just weren’t so simple anymore.

Gasping, you tightened your baby pink robe around your body as you dragged yourself out of bed, hoping to at least greet Hank with a beverage before he went to work.

You practically glided through the house as you made your way along the mahogany floors, down the grand staircase and out of the double doors, careful not to fall down the porch steps as the slight humidity hit you.

Your husband was by the steps, but he didn’t seem alone.

“Honey, I’m sorry, I —-“

You paused once you realised he was speaking to someone. A young man, with blonde hair, a loose fitting tee and shorts, was sitting on the stairs - as if he were being told off - his face seemingly lethargic and uninterested. You caught his eye as he angled to face you, and he quickly adjusted his cap, shifting the brim around so that he could see you clearer.

You flashed him a brief, somewhat uncomfortable smile before you were pulled into a side hug, with Hank placing a kiss to your lips.

“You were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you,” Hank said softly. “We did get rather rowdy last night, didn’t we?” he murmured, and you patted his chest, not wanting an outsider to hear of such unsavoury things.

“This is the time, I feel it,” he announced before nodding at the blonde. “That’s why I’ve hired a gardener. Now I know you love your plants, and you can still go about the little things, but all that labour just isn’t going to work.” he told you. “We need you in top condition, especially once the baby arrives. The smallest things can affect our chances, you know.” he finished, and you nodded.

There was certainly no denying that Hank was a good husband. What man would want their young wife out in the North Carolina sun for upwards of two hours a day? Not to mention all of the wild plants that could’ve lurked. Even if you weren’t yet pregnant, it just made sense, right?

“I’ve given him a basic rate,” he said, adjusting his tie before lowering his voice. “Money’s on the table and our valuables are in the safe. He’s one of those Pogues…just watch him, you know how they are.” Hank warned quietly, but loud enough to assert dominance.

With a final kiss he was off, and you were left with the strange Pogue boy on the front porch. As odd as it sounded, perhaps the boy’s presence would be a blessing, for as much as you loved solitude, it was rather lonely at times. You supposed it would give you something to do.

“Blink twice if you need help,” a cool voice said, causing you to whip your head towards it. You hadn’t noticed that the blonde had been staring at you, nor that you’d been momentarily zoned out.

“Kidding, I know how you Kooks operate…” he said, vaguely judgmental as he stood to his feet. Even though he was on the step below you, you couldn’t help but notice that he was bigger than you, in height and muscle, making you step back in shock and bunching your robe up in your hands.

“I’m not going to do anything to you, Lady. I’m just here for the money. ‘Names JJ by the way,” he said, and you were surprised to see him stick out his hand.

Regaining your senses, you shook it back, giving him your name and a soft smile. He didn’t respond, instead allowing for a smirk to appear across his face before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“So, uh, where d’ya want me to start?”

༼ ♰ ༽

The first time you’d had an unsavoury encounter with JJ Maybank had actually been later that day. The boy hadn’t been shy - in the slightest - about staring at you, peeking over the bushes as he watched you prune your bonsai on the deck, face as close as possible to its leaves as you made sure it was immaculate. Unfortunately, this had meant that you were hunched over, giving the blonde a view of the top of your cleavage; not enough to be considered adulterous, but enough to tempt him into some lewd thoughts.

You’d made eye contact with him, and he’d made no effort to break it with yours, instead smirking and flashing you a disingenuous nod. Pursing your lips, you remembered the look in his eye; as if he were trying to figure you out and yet simultaneously seeing right through you. Being a preacher's daughter, it was a look you’d been given a thousand times before, and yet you’d never been so unsure of its intentions until now. Perhaps it was because he was a Pogue boy, and you were a Kook housewife, alone in a house together whilst your husband was at least an hour away. You’d heard all the stories about their savagery; how life in The Cut was so brutal that everyone was on edge, just waiting for an opportunity to go off.

What was JJ capable of? Would you be a good enough wife and Catholic to withstand it?

More importantly, why did it worry you so?

“...The bush is lovely, by the way.”

His voice drew you from your thoughts.

“Excuse me?” you blinked.

“Your bush,” JJ said with a grin, pointing to the plant in front of you. “It’s all nice and shit. It’s trimmed perfectly,” he mused. “Either you’ve got a lot of time or you just have magic hands…That’s because of all your Jesus stuff, right?”

You sucked in a breath.

“I adore plants,” you said rather bluntly. “They keep me busy.”

“Funny. I usually prefer to smoke mine…I guess you don’t have much going on anyway,” he continued, dropping the hedge scissors to his side as he stopped his motions, giving you his full attention. “Other than what? Look pretty and have babies? You Kooks are swimming in so much you don’t even know where to begin —“

“Are you rather done?” You interjected, ignoring the fact that he’d complimented you. “We’re not paying you to talk.”

JJ chuckled and scratched the back of his head, seemingly enjoying your outburst.

“Hey,” he shrugged. “What your old man doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

༼ ♰ ༽

The other time came after a particularly strenuous lunch with Hank’s parents at the country club. As expected, you were met with the question of grandchildren, to which all you could do was nod and drink your sweet tea, insisting that you were “praying to God”. Of course, that wasn’t an entire lie within itself, but the nature of your prayer was much more defamatory to their very son - something that would make your father’s head spin with utter disgust if he’d ever heard. All of the trying, near misses and downright failures were beginning to take a toll on you, and the deepest, most hidden parts of yourself were questioning whether you wanted a baby at all.

Sighing, you remembered how you barely had had a break, as the moment you’d taken your heels off JJ had arrived - surprisingly on time - ready to get to work. It had seemed like he’d just come from the beach; his signature cap jumbled around his blonde locks and his button up rather undone, exposing his toned chest. Whether it had been from the droplets of the ocean, or beads of sweat from the long journey up, you found yourself strangely enticed by the condensation on his chest, only visible when illuminated by the sun, as if it were his own spotlight.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” JJ nodded, flashing you one of his signature cheeky smiles. You mustered a soft, vaguely curt smile, instead taking interest in his necklace.

“Shark tooth,” he said, watching you with wide eyes. “I think it’s pretty cool, but I don’t think it would match with your getup…Those things eat girls like you alive,” he finished, running his tongue over his lips as he let out a smooth hum.

Surprisingly, you laughed.

“I’m not a girl, JJ,” you insisted. “I’m a woman,”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, shifting his weight as he glanced at you, a distant, but glossy look in his eye. “You may be married, but you’re still just a little girl playing make-believe…You and I both know something’s missing.” he finished assuredly, cocking a brow knowingly.

Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek and shook your head.

“Nothing’s missing,” you said through gritted teeth. “And even if it were, it’s between me and my husband.”

“And God?”

You tutted.

“And God.”

You could hear him chuckle at this, and imagined his cheeky smile as you turned to make your way into the house, with JJ following after you, parting off into the garden as you disappeared into another room.

You didn’t know how long later; perhaps thirty minutes or five, but you found yourself by the window to the back door, watching JJ through the sheer curtains as you took in his physique, specifically his lithe fingers and firm grip as they pushed the lawnmower. For some reason, he’d stripped his shirt off, and there was no denying that the sight was making you forget about your terrible afternoon, much more causing a tingling in your loins. You knew all too well that it was the feeling of sin.

Distracted, you hadn’t realised that JJ had caught you looking. He grinned, nodding his head in your erection before he hunched over the handle, flexing his chest muscles in the process.

“I hope you don’t mind, it's pretty hot out here,” he shrugged, a brazen glimmer in his eye before he glanced down at his body, and back up at you. “Plus, I know you liked the look of my necklace, so…”

༼ ♰ ༽

“This is the third smoke sesh you’ve almost missed,” John B said, brow raised as Sarah nodded. “What’s up with that?”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down on a chair next to Pope and leisurely cracked open a beer. Around him were faces of intrigue; though more concerned if anything (given his nature), and he tapped an index finger on his lips.

“Getting some of that sweet Kook cash, my friend,” he drawled. “You all should try it sometime,”

“Since when do you work overtime?” Kie snorted, cocking her head.

“Since the day I found out that the business dude's wife is a total MILF,” JJ shrugged, rolling a blunt. “And she’s not even pregnant yet!”

Kie and Sarah scoffed and rolled their eyes, with the tanned girl flicking her hair back before she spoke.

“You know she’s only like, 26, 27? Hank’s like 45 or something, it’s kinda weird…” Sarah said leisurely. “She seems sweet though, even if all the other wives are weird about her,”

JJ excitedly slapped the table before raising his hands in victory.

“So I’m in!” He declared before turning to Pope, who was, if not a little uncomfortable, certainly wide eyed. “I’m telling you, man, say the word and I can get you in on this. It’s like those movies, y’know? Except it’s way hotter because she’s like super religious and is practically a virgin…You should see the dresses she wears - oh, man - they’re like all girly and proper…She’s like the First Lady, bro — I’m telling you, I’m like, in love with her —“

Pope shook his head.

“...That’s not love, dude.”

“It’s gotta be, cause we haven’t even hooked up yet,”

“Yet? She’s married!” Kie exclaimed.

“Marriage doesn’t mean shit, trust me,” JJ shrugged, leaning back as his legs bounced uncontrollably. “I’m this close!” he said, making a motion with his fingers.

“Hank will literally kill you!” Pope spluttered. “And by de facto that probably means us too!”

JJ shrugged, thinking of the way the sweetheart neckline of your sundresses clung to your chest and rode ever so slightly up your thigh as you’d sit down.

“Hey, of all the ways I could die, that would definitely not be the worst,”

༼ ♰ ༽

“Did you take it properly?”

“Yes, Hank,” you sighed, masking your frustration as much as possible. “It’s negative. Perhaps we should wait a while, maybe a family isn’t part of our journey yet —“

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, wiping his hand across his mouth. “We’re inviting the pastor over this Sunday and we’re talking this out. It may be embarrassing but…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to listen to him much longer. What more was there to say? You’d tried every diet, been to every specialist and had tried some rather strenuous positions in bed all to knock you up, and yet somehow it was still a problem on your end. Hank was a stubborn man, and no amount of prayer would change that.

Instead, you noticed JJ, leisurely cutting at your rose bush as he listened into your conversation, his head cocked and jaw clenched. He was dressed in one of his vests; the sides split dangerously low as they exposed his muscular arms and toned stomach, and you hated how much you wanted Hank to leave right there and then so he could peel it off and work shirtless. From your usual view by the window you never noticed how impressive his legs were either; how his calves curved perfectly as they rose up and disappeared into the material of his shorts, nor how they rode up slightly when he’d bend down, exposing his large thighs. He reminded you of all those boys - the ‘charlatans’ who, according to your father, only wanted you for one thing.

It was painfully ironic that this was the one thing you were craving.

Hank was still talking - though the subject had inexplicably changed - when you noticed that JJ was staring at his index finger, squeezing it as red liquid oozed from his fingertip. Your eyes widened, and you seized the opportunity to finally send Hank away.

“Bandages are in the bathroom under the stairs,” you said, turning to the blonde, and breaking the older man from his thoughts. JJ nodded and walked off, all under the watchful eye of your husband.

“You shouldn’t let him in there alone,” he murmured, and you sighed, distracting yourself by fixing his collar.

“He’s been with us for three months now…I trust him,” you said softly with a shrug.

Hank grunted.

“Maybe if you stop talking, I could go in there and supervise him.” you said with a soft, inconspicuous chuckle. He seemed to get the point, and you quickly said your goodbyes, sending him off with a custom kiss to his lips. On all the other days you’d done this, it had felt special, but today it was noticeably empty. Perhaps you needed the pastor more than you’d thought.

As expected, JJ hadn’t returned outside, instead leaning over the marble countertops of your island, a bloodied tissue balled up in front of him. He looked a little different than he did in the direct sun; possibly due to the golden haze affecting your vision (and judgement), as the cool tones of the interior made the cerulean of his irises pop just a little more, showing off his pupils, widened under the wanting glaze in his eyes. You never felt scared around JJ - rather the opposite - but his fixed gaze and silence in the moment was particularly ominous.

“...How’s your hand?” you said, clearing your throat.

“Fine,” he mumbled, glancing down at them before looking up. “I’ve had worse,”

“Let me see,” you announced, walking around the island to sit next to him, closing the gap between you. You took his lithe fingers in your own, analysing how red and raw his knuckles were. For a young man, his hands were somewhat aged; likely because of his life as a rogue, which both somewhat scared you and made you sympathise with him more.

Fixating on his finger, you tried to ignore the way he leaned into you, shifting his weight so that he appeared taller, the warm skin of his arms pressing against your own. He smelt fresh, if not admittedly a little musty, and the smell mingled with your own daisy perfume, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’ve got a splinter,” you continued. “This has to be removed or it could get infected —“

“It’s not —“ JJ said defensively, and you cut him off with pleading eyes.

“Please, I insist,”

He softened, nodding his head before you moved around the room to find your first aid kit. You’d done it with such ease; as if you were some kind of Mary Poppins - or better yet the Virgin Mary - and he suddenly couldn’t seem to figure out whether he wanted to take advantage of your kindness, or be on the receiving end of it. As much as his cock throbbed at the idea of fucking the repressed, religious housewife and cucking her POS husband, he couldn’t help but think of all the times he’d fallen - literally and metaphorically - and all the times his ‘dad’ had hit on him, ultimately coming back to how much he’d needed someone to nurse his wounds. In an alternate world, you could’ve been that somebody, but he was lucky enough to have his friends.

Once you'd made your way back to him, you sat down on one of the stools, careful as you handled his slightly swollen finger, going through the motions of wiping it with antiseptic before you began to poke at the skin with tweezers.

Moments passed, and you’d spent it in silence.

“Any luck?” JJ perked up.

You nodded and wiped the tweezers on a section of gauze.

“It’s all out now, just make sure it’s cov—“

“With the baby,” he said, cutting you off. Your blood ran cold, and you dropped his hand, staring him in the eye. Part of you was mortified, no matter how obvious it had been that JJ was listening in earlier.

“That is far too inappropriate to talk about with you,” you stammered.“And it’s really none of your business,”

JJ pursed his lips and flexed his limbs as he watched you scramble. It was as if this were amusing to him.

“My bad,” he snorted. “I just think he’s an asshole, y’know, and you’re so good to me…” he said, pausing to run his tongue over his lips as he stared at you. “Other than the money, why are you with him? Isn’t the whole point of the Bible to be nice to people and stuff?”

Pitifully, you chuckled at his childishness as you shook your head.

“It’s also about being a provider. He loves me, JJ, he really does —“

“Yeah, ‘cause you being a virgin had nothing to do with it…” he spat, causing you to anxiously tug at your crucifix, “He can’t even give you a baby,”

“…I mean, that’s the thing you want most, right? What does it say that he can’t even give that to you?”

The statement rang true in your head as you ran your palms down the sides of your sundress, strangely desperate to hit something. Was that the right emotion? You couldn’t tell; you just knew that your body was hot, your heart racing as the pulse of blood flooded your ears, and there was an inexplicable urge to surrender, even though you wanted to run. You couldn’t even face the boy as you spoke, instead beginning to make your way out of the room.

“JJ…I-I think you should go…” you stammered, burying your face in your hands as you left, the sound of JJ’s boots hitting your marble floors telling you that you weren’t going to be alone anytime soon. He shook his head and bit his lip in frustration as he followed after you into the sunroom.

“Hey, wait — fuck — I didn’t mean —“

“JJ please!” You begged, facing him as your chest heaved and your eyes were as wide as saucers. You shouldn’t have strolled into here; the heat that poured in from the glass was unbearable, and you longed to open the doors and indulge in the feeling of cool air. If you could just do that, perhaps you’d feel better? If not, you’d certainly be seeing the Reverend about a dip in the water of penance.

Either way, everything was too much, and you had no clue about just how much worse things were about to get.

“You’re not crying, are you?”

“No,” you sighed. “I-I just feel awful. I’m a horrible person, I’m going to hell, I –”

You wanted to fight against the fact that JJ had pulled you into a hug, but as you buried your face into his neck you felt otherwise. There was something strangely arousing about his musky smell, and judging by the feeling of his cock against your thigh, he felt the same.

As if you didn’t know that.

“Shh, it’s okay…You’re fine…” he whispered, pulling away to glance down at you, gauging your reaction. “Let me take care of you…”

“JJ, I can’t —“

Your words were swallowed by his kiss; his lips hungry as they attacked your own, whilst his hands invaded your body, planting themselves on your hips before moving down to grope your ass. You let out a soft moan as he gave it a gentle squeeze before he made his way back up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. He pulled away, eyes burning into your own longingly, yet still a little dumbfounded; and stayed there, his grip unwavering.

“I’m dying for you, Mama,” he said earnestly, gaze flickering down to your heaving bosom, your crucifix twinkling in the sunlight. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you, ‘kay?”

You nodded as you peeled the straps of your dress down your shoulders, heart pounding as you revealed yourself to a man who was not your husband - and yet it felt like your wedding night all over again.

JJ sucked in a breath as he watched you undress, unable to hide his smirk as he shifted off his shorts with ease and palmed his cock through his boxers. He could see the outline of your nipples peeking through the lacy, baby pink material, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself once he had his hands on you. Fuck, he could barely even do it now.

“C’mere,” he commanded, silver rings glistening as he beckoned you over. A heat began to pool in your stomach as you walked over to him; sensually, reverently, skin breaking into goosebumps as his fingers danced along the skin of your back, swiftly unhooking the material of your bra. You were straddling him now, running your fingers through his tousled hair as you kissed him, gently grinding along his clothed cock and making JJ let out a soft groan. He revelled in the feeling of your warm skin against his own, and slid his hands down your body to grasp your hips, pushing them down with gentle force against his pelvis.

“JJ…” you gasped. Your heart fluttered, not ready to accept the fact that you were about to take another man’s cock - one that was longer, and probably far more satisfactory. “It’s –”

He shushed you again.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you…Just let go…”

You couldn’t deny how good the act of dry humping felt, the folds of your aching clit tangible through the sheer material of your panties as his cock traced and embedded on your core; a blob of precum spreading across your inner thighs. JJ’s pink lips were latched onto your nipple, sucking and biting at your skin, determined to leave a mark.

He wanted your husband to see that his property had been defiled - by a Pogue boy no less - all under the watchful eye of God.

After a few moments, he flipped you, your head falling to the other side of the couch as you now found him on top of you, his necklace dangling in your face as he gazed down at you.

“ ‘He ever eaten you out before?” he said snarkily.

“…Huh?”

“Didn’t think so,”

Before you knew it, he’d disappeared between your legs, sliding your panties down in a swift manner and burying his tongue inside of you. He hadn’t given you any warning, but the hot, wet sensation was surprisingly pleasurable.

JJ was touching you like no man had ever before; using his mouth and hands to explore your crevice, flicking and lapping at the obscene amount of juices that coated your folds. You whimpered and gripped a pillow, frantic to find some sense of security - only for JJ to pull it from you, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“Nuh-uh,” he began, his voice muffled. “Fuck the pillow. You hold onto me, baby…” he drawled, a hand sliding under your ass and onto the curve of your lower back to angle you higher; silver rings digging into your skin as he held you there. Biting your lip, you fought the urge to blaspheme and laced your fingers through his hair, digging at his roots as he fucked you with his tongue, searching for that oh-so sweet spot.

“You taste so good, Mama…” JJ cooed, lost in your walls, borderline breathless from the way you were squeezing his head between your thighs and drawing him deeper. “…I bet that pussy feels like heaven,”

Perhaps it was the mention of paradise, but his dirty talk sent you over the edge. It was as if you’d been shocked; as if an electrifying pulse of light had run through you, making your back arch and toes curl, swallowing JJ’s face whole.

It was incredibly obscene.

You’d barely caught your breath when JJ had climbed back up, indulging you in a passionate kiss and smearing your juices all over your face. Tracing your fingers down his spine, you didn’t break eye contact with him as you pushed down his boxers with one hand and palming his aching cock. It was somewhat heavy with a considerable length, and he chuckled as you shut your eyes and said a silent prayer - not only for what you were about to do, but just how much you were going to enjoy it.

“Hold still,” JJ commanded, breaths shaky as he began to push into you. “‘Imma give you what you want baby…Fuck –”

JJ was loud, but you didn’t care.

It was all too overstimulating; from the dull pain that came from your legs spread so pornographically as they dangled off of his shoulders, to the sound of his pelvis slapping against your own as he rutted into you. You left graceful scars along his back as your manicured nails dug into his sun-kissed skin, crawling at him as you begged for him to go deeper.

“You like this, huh? I know Jesus probably wouldn’t be too happy about this, but pretty girls like you deserve to get what they want…Shit…” he groaned, sliding in and out of you with ease. “Besides, if I give you a baby it’s just me being a good neighbour, right?”

A baby.

That had been the whole reason for your foul mood as of late.

Would Hank ever know? Could you explain it away? How could you function with JJ still around? Your family, your friends…God? How could you ever atone for such a sin?

Realistically, none of that mattered now. Especially not when JJ was fucking you like a rabbit; his hair buried in the crook of your neck and his legs bent as he pressed you into the sofa, yearning to consume you.

“JJ…” you whined, “I think I’m gonna –”

“Shit, me too baby,” he groaned. “This pussy is so fucking good…Just swallowing me up ‘n shit — I should’ve started working earlier…”

His balls were slapping against your skin now, and you began to see white as he fucked into you, his tip hitting your sweet spot and making you clench around him, legs trembling as you came. It wasn’t too long until he followed after you, your clear juices mixing with his hot cum as he continued to fuck you, rolling his hips in a slow but sensual manner as he made sure you felt - and were filled - with every inch of him.

Which was why it wasn’t surprising that you found yourself pregnant two weeks later.

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