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ghost-1-y · 1 year ago

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Sacrifice

Surtr!Kyojuro x AFAB!Worshipper!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, masturbation (Kyo), getting caught masturbating (Kyo), knotting, Kyojuro is in heat, Kyo has a massive breeding kink, lactation kink (Kyo loves your titties), size kink, pregnancy kink, pregnancy (at the end), using horns as handles, implied belly bulging, mommy kink (reader referred to as both “mommy” and “mother”), love confessions at the very end, douma being an asshole, incorrect interpretation of norse mythology, reader is given as a human sacrifice to Kyo, mentions of animal sacrifice, reader referred to as “pretty girl” sometimes, please lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: The legends stated that the mighty fire giant would one day bring about the beginnings of Ragnarok and engulf the world in flames. You had been told of these prophecies since childhood and were a firm believer in appeasing the proclaimed Ruler of Fire through worship and sacrifice – just as you had been taught by the village elders since you were a mere child. What you didn’t expect, however, was for the village to turn their back on you and suggest that what would be needed would be a human sacrifice to appease the giant once and for all.

Word Count: ~6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: So sorry this took so long!! I've had a mess of a week so far. I hope the fic is worth the wait! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors (I tried my best).

A fire blazed in the heart of the village, crackling with embers floating gracefully and smoke ebbing above the tallest of houses – its heat a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the autumn night. Members of the village surrounded the bonfire, sitting with their families as they feasted, bellies full with the meat stew that was provided for them. A single bowl was left untouched amongst each family – a welcoming invitation for the dead to engage in the festivities that were part of Vetrnætr.

As chieftain, you engaged with the families, wishing them good health and happiness as they did the same for you, before engaging in sumbel with them as you poured wine onto the grass below.

“Freyr will be most pleased by your worship.”

In a way of parting from families, you’d praise their good faith before moving on to the next family. The smiles were abundant amongst the villagers, and, once you’d made your way fully around the bonfire, you removed your sword from your scabbard and raised it high into the air.

“Today we celebrate, and are thankful to the god Freyr for a wonderful harvest. Please join me in this sacrifice, in order to show our thanks to the deities of all the Nine Realms.”

However, before you could commit to the sacrifice – the poor lamb that was before you – a cold hand gripped at your shoulder, which made you turn in confusion.

“Perhaps I should tell you, before you engage in such an act, that the priest has some… concerns,” the man – Enmu you believed his name was – whispered. You sighed and sheathed your sword once more, your blood beginning to boil as you’d wondered what he could possibly want in the middle of the village’s celebration.

You trudged your way through the temple that resided on the outskirts of the village. The door creaked open as you walked through, and before you sat the village priest, who sat on a cushion made of feathers and animal skin. He upturned his lips upon seeing you, yet it wasn’t a true smile.

You knew he didn’t know how to, after all.

“Ah! My lovely Chieftain,” Douma drawled, “such a beautiful night to celebrate Vetrnætr, isn’t it? Although, I doubt that Freyr will grant you the beauty or fertility needed to continue your lineage this upcoming year, truly a shame,” he said, faking a pout.

You fought the urge to ball your fists. The village elders, and, apparently now the village priest as well, had been pressing you for a child – particularly a son – however, despite many suitors attempting to lay their claim to the throne, and therefore you, none had been successful.

Despite this jab, you maintained composure, “what do you need from me, Douma? You’ve interrupted the sacrifice.” You stared him down, and he forced a small laugh.

“Oh my, a harsh tongue doesn’t suit you, dear Chief” he sneered, “You see, I have become aware of some rather concerning events – ones surrounding Ragnarök in particular,” he paused, observing you for any kind of reaction, “unfortunately, it seems Surtr has traveled from Muspelheim to Midgard.”

Your eyes widened, “how would he be able to do such a thing? He isn’t a deity–”

“–ah, but he is a jötunn, and therefore would have the ability to travel between the realms,” Douma countered, “did you never pay attention to my lessons during your youth?”

You rolled your eyes, “you speak as though we do not dedicate sacrifices to him with each solstice. You know appeasing his anger is one of my most steadfast beliefs.”

Douma hummed, “well, it appears that you did not follow through with this past solstice, my dear Chieftain – rather dedicating it to Freyr than to Surtr – and, to be completely honest, I am quite disappointed in that fact.”

The door shut behind you, and two warriors stood on either side of you. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, sensing distrust in the air.

“Do you know, Chieftain, what would be required to adequately appease the Ruler of Fire?”

You pulled out your sword and swung at the warrior on your right, an attack which was quickly blocked by his own weapon. You landed a kick to the left one’s stomach, only for it to be trapped in an unwavering grip by the warrior’s arms. You attempted to swing your sword at him in retaliation, only for your arm to also be grabbed by the one on your right.

Douma stood up and walked towards you, gripping your chin – the cold of his skin causing you to wince.

“A proper, human sacrifice.”

A blow landed to the back of your neck, and your vision faded to black.

—

You awoke to a chill that laid upon your skin, feeling as though you were made of ice rather than of flesh. You were completely bare, lying on a wooden floor of what you presumed to be the priest’s sacred temple, as your vision was fully obstructed by a cloth which wrapped around your eyes. Upon moving your arms – which were thankfully in front of you and not behind, you noticed that your wrists were also bound by rope to prevent you from making any potential escape from Douma’s clutches.

Outside, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open – causing you to flinch at the loud creak that sounded from it. A rough hand grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to your feet, forcing you outside where you heard murmurs of villagers on either side of you. Your cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment, the idea of your beloved villagers seeing you in such a state bringing tears to your eyes in pure shame.

“All of you, please say your final goodbyes to our beloved Chieftain – for she has volunteered to become the sacrifice that will appease Surtr and end his threats of Ragnarök!”

You couldn’t hear the cheers of your people over your pulse pounding in your ears, completely helpless as you were all but dragged along the dirt and gravel pathway before being placed on a horse. A faint rustling could be heard before you felt a rope tied around your neck.

“Be careful not to fall off, my dear Chieftain, lest your neck snap as you’re dragged along the rugged terrain by your horse,” Douma whispered to you before saddling himself onto a separate horse, and you could only assume that this rope was also tied to the horse in some way, thus forcing you to go wherever Douma led you.

You begrudgingly held tight against the horse’s mane as it went into a trot, the wind blowing harshly against your naked skin as the voices of the villagers slowly faded away, replaced by the clopping of hooves as you traversed to a place unfamiliar.

The horses did not stop, and you could only tell the passage of time as the cool of night gave way to the blazing heat of the sun that seared itself into your back. Hours must have passed, and your muscles grew sore the longer you traveled.

At some point, the horses slowed, and the sun’s heat was obstructed by a shadow which loomed above you. Again, a faint rustling could be heard before you were taking off of the horse’s back – yet the rope stayed wrapped around your neck, yet it was no longer taut if you tried pulling away from the horse’s body. You were dragged into the cool shadow, before a hand gripped at your hair.

“Such a shame you never produced a son,” Douma muttered into your ear, “you wouldn’t have to die if you were nice and fertile, my dear Chieftain.”

You could only imagine the nasty grin on his face as he pushed you forward, causing you to lose your footing and fall what could’ve been roughly two meters before hitting solid rock. You heard laughter above you before it started to fade away.

Luckily, the fall seemed to loosen the cloth which covered your eyes, allowing you to see out of one of them, yet you doubted it would be of much help as you got your bearings and realized that you were indeed alone in a dark cave, being left to starve and rot as a form of sacrifice to Surtr.

You decided, that if you were going to die anyway, that you’d at least explore the cave you were pushed into.

It was dark, yet not damp, the stone beneath you as dry as the walls that surrounded you, and you wondered if the sun somehow reached its way into the depths of this cave to evaporate the moisture. There was no life, not a single lizard or insect to be seen – although a few animal bones would be strewn about here and there as you continued your descent further into the cave.

You traversed further, being careful to not trip over any rocks or pitfalls. After what seemed to be an hour of exploration, you saw the tiniest spark of light in the distance.

Perhaps a way out? You thought, and walked closer to this flickering light, and the rather narrow tunnel you were in gave way to a large cavern – with a large bonfire in the middle, one much larger than the one in your village during the celebration of Vetrnætr.

Unlike the blazing heat of the sun from earlier, the warmth of the bonfire was comforting, with its orange hue flickering along the walls of the cavern.

As you got closer, you heard the slightest shifting from the other side of the cavern, followed by what could only be described as a low growl. You froze, unsure of how to proceed in front of a potential predator with nothing to defend yourself with. You slowly crouched and walked towards the bonfire, and, despite your hands being tied, managed to pick up one of the smaller logs on the outer ring of the fire before dousing the tip of it in flames – a weapon, should you need to use it.

As you slowly walked around the bonfire, you found a rather peculiar sight – realizing that the growl did not come from the likes of an animal.

But who– or what was before you was certainly not human.

The being before you was huge, possibly even a jötunn. You were never one to doubt your beliefs, but the idea that a creature from another realm was before your very eyes was difficult to swallow. However, from what you could remember from your religious texts, a jötunn is the only creature you could bring yourself to categorize it as.

The creature had large, curved horns that were sizable in their girth, and its tusks – not fangs – emerged up from its lower jaw. What’s more, it had pointed ears on either side of its head which emerged through hair resembling that of fire, locks that matched the finest gold and ruby gemstones that would cost a fortune in your village.

Unlike the face, its body looked quite human – although its very naked form boasted large, dense muscles throughout its entire body, and a cock that made you swallow absentmindedly from just how threatening its size was.

The creature was stroking its girth, thumbing itself over the leaking slit – a slight shudder escaping from its throat. It started to fuck itself into its grip, thrusting quickly as though chasing its release. Its other hand was fondling its balls – which looked heavy and full of seed, before having its hand move slightly upward towards the slightly swollen base of its cock, softly massaging it to seemingly ease the tension it caused.

Fully flushed with embarrassment, you backed away from the creature before you, each step seemingly calculated in order to escape this situation.

Is the creature sentient? It seems to be humanoid– does that mean it can think like a human? What if it’s a predator and kills me?

Thoughts rushed through your mind, seemingly going into a frenzy as you worried about potential outcomes of this situation.

Crack!

In your panic, you managed to step on a stray twig that managed to stray from the center of the bonfire.

The creature stopped its movements, and immediately turned its head to the source of the sound.

Its amber and crimson eyes opened and glared into yours.

“F-Fuck—!”

With one glance over your naked form, the creature before you released its seed, spilling it all over its fist and shaft, with the remaining drops dribbling onto its lower abdomen. It continued to slowly rub its fist up and down its length, closing its eyes as it played with its tip up until the last of its cum dribbled out from the slit, before tensing and looking back at you, eyes widening in shock – as though it couldn’t believe you were actually there.

“I’m sorry!” the creature exclaimed, a blush so red blooming across its cheeks that it seemingly felt the same amount of embarrassment as you. It hastily wiped itself clean on the furred animal skin it was laying upon. “I– I can explain, really– just– who are you? Why are you here?”

You were in shock, so much so that you couldn’t even eke out a full sentence. Your eyes drifted down to its cock once more, which – much to your surprise – was still standing incredibly tall and proud as it curved up towards the creature’s stomach. Heat prickled across your cheeks and down your chest as the fiery-haired being used its hands to cover itself up in front of you – sensing that you might be uncomfortable from bearing witness to such an event.

This is ridiculous, you thought, you are the Chieftain of your village – compose yourself!

“I am Y/N, leader of my village and child of a family of famed warriors,” you introduced yourself.

The creature raised an eyebrow to you in response.

“And what exactly brings a village leader into my cave?”

You hesitated, humiliation flooding your veins even more so than before.

“I– I was overthrown by the village priest and have been made a sacrifice to Surtr, the Ruler of Fire.”

You expected laughter from the jötunn before you, closing your eyes to hide whatever dignity you had left from what Douma stripped from you. However, instead of hearing a cacophony of hearty noises from the creature’s throat, you instead heard the thud of footsteps approaching you.

Slowly, the jötunn reached forward and removed the bandages which obstructed your vision, loosening and pulling them away with his large fingers, careful to not touch you unnecessarily in the process.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the giant, his eyes surprisingly kind as he looked down at you. He bunched the bandages in his hands before tossing them to the side, then continued untie the ropes that were digging into your wrists and cast them aside as well.

“If what you say is true, please inform your village that I do not take human sacrifices.”

Your heart seemed to have traveled up to your throat, its beats both fast and fluttery.

“That would imply that I could go back– wait, what are you talking about?”

Then, the creature did finally let out a laugh – a small chuckle that rose from his chest and was deep and bassy as it rose through his throat.

“My dear human, I am the one you people refer to as Surtr.”

You stopped, instinctively stepping back – away from the creature that just claimed to be the harbinger of destruction – the one to bring flames that will engulf all nine realms and Yggdrasil itself.

You did what you believed best, and forced your body to the rocky floor of the cave, bowing in absolute submission and respect for such a being – nearly cowering in the presence of such raw power presented before you.

“Stand up, please, there’s no need for that here.”

You looked up at the being before you, rather confused by his words.

He sighed, “you humans have beliefs of me that are so far from the truth, it’s saddening.”

A pause, the only sound in the cavern being the crackling of the wood against flames.

“My real name is Kyojuro, the name ‘Surtr’ is a title bestowed upon me that I did not wish to receive. I am not going to harm you or your village, I do not wish for such evil. Whatever “priest” thought that a human sacrifice would appease this nonexistent will of mine is, to put simply, a fool.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he reached out his hand – one that dwarfed your own – toward you.

“Stand up.”

He was smiling as you took his hand, with a gaze that was comforting and kind as he sent sparks through your skin with his touch.

The prickling heat returned to your cheeks.

“I’ll help you get back to your village,” he promised.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening once more as you registered his words.

“I can’t– please, I can’t go back, not after what they did to me,” you started, preparing yourself to beg and plead this god-like creature for mercy.

Kyojuro frowned, “I understand, but I can’t keep you here. You need to leave, I– I can’t have you stay.”

You knew it was selfish, to leave your people in the hands of Douma, but after what he did to you– after how he humiliated you.

Where the fire in your village was scalding, his was warm. Where those treated you with indifference or malice, he had been nothing but kind.

Was it really worth going back?

“I’d like to stay,” you decided.

Kyojuro stopped, each and every second becoming more and more difficult for the jötunn. Every passing moment he ignored his very obvious problem, he became this much closer to just bending you over and taking you like a wild animal. His blood was hot in his veins, and fire licked at his lower abdomen, pleasure bubbling once more to the surface as he continued to endure his heat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, human,” he warned. He was using every ounce of his willpower in order to maintain his composure. His heat was going to near its peak soon, and he needed you away from him before that happened. He came to Midgard to weather it alone in his cave, and you were only making it all the more difficult.

“Kyojuro,” you uttered softly, and the creature before you let out a low growl, “will you let me stay if I…help?”

His cock twitched, precum dribbling slowly out of the tip, with the base of it swelling up once more.

“I don’t want you to try and sell yourself to me as though you’re a piece of meat. I–” he swallowed, “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kyojuro, I want to help you. I want this,” you assured, and he balled his hands into fists, as though the rope holding him together was about to snap.

“Y/N–” he warned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Please, fuck me, Kyojuro.”

The jötunn grabbed your arm, “if– if we are to do this, you must know that I am in heat, and I–” he swallowed, “I may not be able to control myself should we continue.”

You took your hand and brushed your fingers across his tightened grip, causing slight shivers to flow down his spine.

“Lose control, Kyojuro, I can take it.”

He groaned, and with his strength, picked you up and collided his lips with yours. Your hands sought either side of his face, kissing back with fervor as he moaned into your mouth. His tusks surprisingly didn’t obstruct your access to his mouth, and every once in a while he’d nip at your bottom lip, before laving his tongue over the swollen skin and pushing it into your mouth. You let out a small moan at the intrusion, and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his wild, fiery hair.

His grip on your body moved from your hips back towards your ass, cupping and massaging the muscle with his hands. His cock was stiff against your inner thigh, the precum spreading along your skin with each small movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock slipped between your legs and along your slit – the sheer girth of it a little worrisome as it pressed against your heat.

“Shit– so big, Kyojuro, hah–” you panted, and he growled.

“Never had cock this big before, have you? Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get you nice and ready to take me.”

He shifted your weight onto one of his arms, the muscles flexing as he shifted his other hand beneath you. Two of his fingers started rubbing along your clit, making small circular motions as his other hand groped at the fat of your ass. He lifted you up a little more so his mouth was in line with your breasts and pursed his lips around one of your perked up tits, sucking at it and licking broad stripes with his tongue. He groaned around your tit as he played with your pussy, reveling in how wet you were for him already. The mini vibrations sent electricity down your spine, and you moved your head to rest on his broad shoulder, giving small kisses to his neck as you whined from his ministrations.

“Lips feel so good, dear, love it when you kiss me like that,” he sighed, giving kisses to each of your breasts, “want to apologize for my earlier…release, you were just so beautiful…seeing you all naked ‘n presenting for me like that…made me want to breed you, pretty girl,” Kyojuro confessed, causing you to shiver as he softly whispered such filthy thoughts into your ear.

“Mmh– don’t apologize, Kyo– liked watchin’ you,” you admitted, and he let out a light chuckle, which made you lightly slap his rocky chest. He responded by giving a small bite to your breast, before licking it better with his skilled tongue.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me wanting to breed you? Getting you pregnant with my young?” he asked, his fingers moving from your clit down towards your entrance, where he inserted a single thick digit into your heat. You whined as your pussy clenched around the intrusion, and nodded in response, licking a stripe up his neck before kissing back down it again.

His finger thrust into you, curling against that one sensitive area inside of you as his thumb reached for and played with your clit. The moans that you let out echoed throughout the cavern, with the only other sounds being the shlick of Kyojuro’s finger deep in your cunt and the crackling of flames. After a while, he added a second digit, and slowly but surely worked you towards your peak, the tension slowly building up in your gut.

With one last swipe against your clit with his thumb, you came undone, your orgasm causing you to shudder and whine in his hold as he worked you through it, curling his fingers and rubbing your clit as you rode out each wave.

“Kyo–” you moaned, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers, and he smiled before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He continued thrusting his fingers up into your now weeping cunt, prepping you nice and good to take his much thicker cock.

He walked back toward his makeshift bed – a pile of furs and animal skins which he must’ve collected prior to his heat – and gently placed you down on top of them. His large hands moved down your thighs, rubbing softly up and down your plush skin as he stared at the slick between your legs. He lowered himself between your thighs and inhaled deeply as he tried desperately to memorize your scent. He licked a stripe up your slit, causing you to jolt at the sensation, and moaned as your taste spread over his tongue like honey.

You squirmed underneath his touch, which made him hold your hips in place as he started to devour you. His tongue flicked over your clit before collecting more of your juices on his tongue. Your hands found his horns and gripped them tightly, pushing his head further between your thighs, earning a groan from Kyojuro. He pursed his lips and sucked at your clit before licking at it in circular motions, moving his hand between your legs again and pushing two digits inside your cunt once more, thrusting in and out of your hole with his fingers. After adding a third finger, he started curling his fingers into that one spot again, his movements quick and deft as he brought you to your second orgasm.

You moaned loudly as you came undone, legs shaking as your grip on his horns tightened, trying your best to buck your hips up into his face as he lapped up all of the juices that seeped out of your pussy. Only when you were able to open your eyes once more did you look down to see Kyojuro humping himself onto the fur pelts as he messily gathered the rest of your release onto his tongue.

“Kyo– please, I need you,” you whined, and he looked up at you with a fire ignited in his eyes. He got up, stroking his thick cock as he looked down upon your much smaller form.

“Get on all fours for me.”

Without hesitation, you rolled over and got on your hands and knees. Kyojuro kneeled behind you and placed his cock in between your wet folds, rubbing the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your juices. He shuddered before slowly pushing the head inside, causing you to tense slightly from how big the intrusion was.

“Relax for me, won’t you?” he asked softly.

You tried your best to relax, and he started to push more of his length inside of you, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. For a moment, he stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of your cunt tightly wrapped around his throbbing cock, his hips flush against your ass as you whined for him to move, please.

“Let me have this moment, dear, I– I haven’t felt something this wonderful in centuries,” he confessed, and you let out a soft mewl before complying with what he wanted.

After a few more moments, his cock dragged out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He rocked into you, slowly at first, which was most likely for the better considering how huge he was. He growled as he thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he reached underneath you to hold your stomach, pressing up slightly as he fully fucked his cock into you.

“Shit– you feel that, pretty girl? Feel my cock deep inside you?” he groaned, and you nodded helplessly, letting out a whine as he continued his movements. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so fuckin’ tight f’ me.”

You choked out another moan as he started increasing his speed, his groans becoming more frequent with each thrust. Kyojuro took his hand and gently tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

“Won’t last much longer, pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you, “gonna pull out, promise.”

You whined, “no– please, need your cum, Kyo– need it inside.”

He moaned loudly, “you have no idea what you’re asking of me, pretty. You’d end up taking my knot–”

“I want your knot, Kyo! Please give it to me–!”

Kyojuro thrust even harder into your sopping cunt upon hearing that, “fuck, you want my knot? I’ll get you fucking pregnant, fill you up with my young ‘n get your belly all swollen, you sure you want that?”

“Yes! Please Kyo–! Please–”

With a couple last thrusts, Kyojuro shot his seed inside of you, thick ropes painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim. You moaned as you felt the warmth spread deep inside of your cunt, and, before his release could begin to seep out of your pussy, a burning stretch began inside your abused hole. Realizing this is what Kyojuro meant by his knot, you tried to look behind you to catch sight of his cock seemingly expanding inside of your pussy, keeping his cum nicely plugged inside of you.

Kyojuro was panting, his voice rough as he pulled you up onto his lap.

“Good fuckin’ girl, taking my knot so well.” He looked down at your chest as you sat in his lap, his cock still rock hard and throbbing inside your wet cunt.

“Can’t wait to see these breasts filled with milk, gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you?” he said before taking one of your tits in his mouth and sucking at it, as though he were trying to get you to produce milk already for him, and eventually his young, to feed on.

“Kyo, I– I’m sorry, but I’m not fertile, I– I’ve never been able to produce an heir with another man,” you sighed, and his eyes looked up to meet yours. “I’m really sorry, it’s why I was thrown down here in the first place” you continued, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him.

Instead of becoming angry, he simply placed you back down on the fur pelts and brought your legs up towards your shoulders so that you were folded completely in half. He then crouched over you, keeping you locked in a mating press with him.

“I’m no simple man, my dear human,” he kissed your lips, “if I say I will breed you and fill you with my young–” he paused, thrusting deeply into your cunt.

“–I mean every single word.”

Kyojuro started fucking into you with renewed fervor, his stamina seemingly having increased despite already releasing inside of you once. His cock reached deeper inside of you, and you could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. Every single thrust of his hips had you a whining mess, taking his knot until your pussy molded into the shape of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it all,” he groaned before pressing his mouth to yours once more. His tongue plunged past your lips – prompting you to suck on it, causing him to fall over the edge again, his hips stilling as he pumped a second load of cum into your needy cunt. You whined as he didn’t stop – continuing to fuck into your abused cunt despite cumming twice, his cock still stiff and leaking with every thrust. You felt his seed sloshing around in your womb, feeling so incredibly full by both his cum and his fat cock.

“Mine,” he growled while pumping himself into you, “you’re fucking mine.”

You could only nod and whine in response, having been completely fucked dumb by his cock.

“Pregnant.” He pummeled his cock deep into your cunt, “getting you pregnant. Fuck. Gonna have a round belly filled with my young, tits swelling with milk, I’ll keep you here – gonna be the mother to my children, gonna treat mommy so well, hunt for you, protect you, everything you could ever want.”

You moaned, your cunt clenching around his cock upon listening to his promises.

“Wan’ it,” you managed, “wan’ to be a good mommy so– fuck– so bad.”

Kyojuro groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as it swelled even more. “Can’t stop thinking of my young suckling on your breasts, tits producing so much milk that all of them have their fill– shit, gonna cum again, gonna fill you up– fuck!”

He spilled into you once more, filling your cunt up completely with his seed, ensuring that it takes, making good on his promise. His fingers flicked at your clit and your own orgasm came crashing down around you, pure euphoria flowing through your veins as you let out a silent scream from the seemingly endless waves of pleasure addling your mind.

Kyojuro rolled over and had you collapse on top of him, his arms reaching around your torso and holding you close.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to stay?” he whispered, slight insecurity being carried through his tone.

You gave him a quick peck to his lips, “yes, Kyojuro, you– you’ve been so kind to me, much more than anyone else in that damned village. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiled softly at you, his eyes glowing with warmth as he cradled your head into his neck, petting at your hair as the two of you fell asleep next to the flickering bonfire.

—

A few months had passed, and you were waiting for your lover to return from his hunt. He had promised a large meal today, and you were excited to see what he had planned for the two of you.

You rubbed your baby bump as you cozied up next to the fire, resting in a heap of animal furs which acted as bedding for the two of you. You were surprised to find out that you were pregnant, but Kyojuro had sensed it about a month after you two had first met, and proceeded to treat you as though every step you took turned the rocks beneath your feet into gold.

The bump was rather large for only being a few months in, and your breasts were already swelling and leaking with milk, but Kyojuro had told you that it was normal – considering that his young would be half-jötunn. He quelled your fears of labor, saying that he would help you in every way that he possibly could when it came time to have the baby.

After a few hours, Kyojuro came back to the cavern, carrying your meal over his shoulder.

“How is my love doing?” he asked with the biggest smile on his face, causing you to giggle as you attempted to get up to greet him. Kyojuro rushed over to you, ensuring that you don’t so much as lift a finger while carrying his young. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss before dragging your meal to the bonfire and beginning to cook it.

“Mmh– Kyo? Could you help me a little bit, my tits feel so swollen,” you pouted, and his ears damn near perked up at your words.

“Oh? Does mommy need some relief?” he asked teasingly, and you nodded. Kyojuro walked over to you and knelt down, his hands reaching to massage your breasts slowly. He kneaded them and licked at the milk which dribbled out, letting it coat over his tongue. His lips wrapped around one of your tits, and he sucked slowly, moaning as he drank from you. You whined when he moved to the other tit and performed the same actions, relief sinking in the more he suckled the milk out of you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl,” he whispered before getting up again to cook the meat he brought in.

You pouted again, “need you, Kyo, please,” and he laughed.

“You can have me after we eat, does that sound okay?” he compromised, and you sighed but nodded in agreement.

You laid back and rested upon the pile of furs, smiling in contentment as you looked at the two meals that were set out before you.

“I love you, Kyo,” you admitted, unashamed by your feelings as they echoed throughout the cavern.

Kyojuro froze, glancing back at you briefly before continuing to prepare the food, trying his best to hide the blush that traveled across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I love you, too, my little flame.”

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ja3hwa · 1 year ago

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♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬 ♡

Day 31 : Trick Or Teat

【Synopsis】 : The dead of night, creatures hide. In the light of a fire, those same creatures can become more.

『Word count』 : 7.01k

-> Genre: Supernatural. Smut. Angst. Fluff.

Paring: Yungi x Reader | Seonghwa x Reader [Eventual ot8 x Reader]

[Warnings] : Self hatred. Abusive family. toxic family. Cult-like religon. Myths and supernatural concepts. The reader is giving off Genderfluid in some parts [not me projecting whoops]. hints of sexual abuse. Blood. Gore. Dark themes. Blood drinking. Kissing. Swearing. All the boys have a corruption kink cause why not. Fingering. Seonghw has a bit of a superiority complex. Details of torture and killing people. Unprotected sex. Yunho and Mingi are little shits. Eheh

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Surprise!! This is the very first chapter and introduction to my new mini series I'll be writing. I know a lot of you have been wanting Vampire Ateez ot8x reader for a while, and I've been trying to find a good story, and i finally got one, hehe. Also, I wanted to make this fic extra long as well to say thank you for 4k followers. I still want to do an event, but I'm taking a little break first, so I hope this is okay for now.

I LOVE YOU ALL ♡♡♡

Check out the mini series masterlist -> [Here]

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Part Two

The Destiny Castle was filled with darkness and death. Guard dogs, the size of cows and strange beastly noises echoing in the forest surrounding. And warnings to anyone that enters the ground will never be seen again. Well, that's what the priest of your village says over time and time again. Blabbering about how god left the family that lived in the castle many centuries ago when they invited night-crawling creatures inside. Ones that drink blood and care little for the human race.

Vampires.

You sighed under your breath for the fifth or sixth time this evening as the sermon read on the large dusted book in front of him. Your hands were beginning to ache from having them clasped together for so long. Why were you even praying? It's not like you believe any of this bullshit. Yes, granted, some of it might sound true, and you had doubts on multiple occasions whether this man in the sky was, in fact, real or not. But did you really want to stick around and find out? When you die and you go to hell, so be it. You weren't scared of where you ended up. You were more scared of wasting your life away. Not finding the adventure you so desperately craved. But your picture-perfect parents with their picture-perfect kids shall have no such dreams. No such idea of living other than to tend to the market stall and be married to yet another picture-perfect family.

You felt your mother's god-awful stare as she clearly heard you sigh yet again. You hated her the most. Always finding new and improved ways to punish you for "your sins." Like rolling your eyes or talking back to a man. Or worse, not showing any signs of being a good future housewife so when she's finally ready to sell you off—oh I'm sorry, give you away—to some rich Christian suitor to be your husband. You could be the perfect version of yourself for her.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

You hated that fucking word. A loud bell chime caught your attention, signalling that Sept was finished with his blabberings for the evening. So you stood up straight, your annoyingly over-layered dress before turning on your heels to leave.

"Oh wait, Dove. Come here, please." Your mother's overfaked and sugary sweet tone rattled in your ears. The use of the nickname Dove also annoyed you. Dove, meaning white pure bird that is trapped in a golden cage. Everyone had called you that since you were born, most people in the village not even knowing your real name, only know this nickname.

Why, you may ask?

Simple, your mother hated your name. You were named after your father's mother, who she hated. But it was tradition to name your firstborn after the father's mother, so here you were. Not only were you a disappointment to your mother, but you also bore a name that resembles hatred. Lucky you.

"This is Lucas Wheeler. He's Mary and Robert's Eldest son." Your mother's voice buttered up the introduction, leaning in with an absolutely disturbingly fake smile that everyone seemed to fall for. You turned your lip slightly, making a poor attempt to smile, which your mother did not approve of. "Luca, darling, this is my daughter."

His grin was wide and overexaggerated. His tunic was buttoned all the way up to his Adams apple, looking as if it was constricting his airflow. And his hair was perfectly brushed back. He was the definition of a good pure religious boy. A book nerd. You couldn't hide your disgust as he licked his lips, eyeing you like some piece of flesh. You knew what he was hiding. That filthy lust that men seemed to only be forgiven for. He has probably dreamed about shoving his cock in every woman that passes him and he was definitely only thinking about his needs while staring at you. Not marriage, not husband duty. No, the sole idea of finally getting his little dick wet was driving him crazy. And it made you want to chuck your guts up all over his clean shoes.

"You seem to have such a um, polite daughter here, Christine. She seems shy?" Lucas's mother, Mary spoke up trying to take a look at you but you kept your face pointed to the ground. You didn’t want to be there and you weren't about to fake a smile for a family you did not need to know. you wanted nothing more than to slip away and become invisible like you always did in these types of situations. But turning twenty has now made you in the public eye. Twenty and without a husband was rare. Normally women in your village were betrothed at sixteen and married at eighteen. But you have managed to wheezle your way out of it from your parents being too worried about your younger sisters. But you’ll be twenty-one soon and your mother, Christine was becoming impatient.

“She is a shy one. Sweet too. Micheal and I have been trying to find the perfect man for her, but her shyness seems to not be a lucky charm.” Your mother battered, throwing a sweet chuckle making Lucas’s parents laugh.

“Well, how about you both come over? Bring all your kids, for dinner. I’m sure my Luca would love to get to know her.” Mary pinched Lucas’s cheek making him push away slightly.

“Yes. I’d love to know more about your daughter. I’m sure we will be able to entertain one another while you get dinner ready.” his dark words made your stomach turn and flip. Now you were definitely going to be sick.

“It’s settled then. We will see you at sundown.” Your mother bid goodbye tugging you away by your arm out of the church, not letting you go for a second. Knowing you’d just run off the first chance you got.

Night came quicker than you would have liked and no matter how hard to tried to slip away your mother made sure that one of your sisters was always with you, ready to shout if you tried to bail. What was this some type of house imprisonment? You didn’t want to go, that was more than clear. But your mother couldn’t care less and your father well it was ‘whatever mother says goes’. so you were alone in the more honest terms. Your brothers were too young to know any different, your sister who is only two years younger than you was a cutout of your mother. And your little sister was daddy's little girl. She didn’t care about anything but her daddy.

What a perfect family you seem to have. Everyone fitted in somewhere but you. You were the experiment. The first batch of cookies to come out of the oven that no one touches cause they were too burned or not fully cooked.

“Come on we are going to be late.” Your mother's voice rang through the house, your sister's eyes not leaving you. She had muttered something before heading for the door. You had told her you just needed to put on some garments before meeting her downstairs. She was hesitant for a moment thinking this was a plan to escape but you had said that there was no time now and what would be the point. Sensing your defeat she left you alone. Finally.

You pull on some pants under your dress, hating having to wear such feminine clothing. It wasn’t that you were against wearing dresses or lace or even frills. It was more that sometimes you wanted pants. Was that so bad? You sighed putting all the clothes your sister had pulled out for you to try on, on the end of your bed. That was later you’s problem. You noticed your book laying on your pillow making you swear under your breath. Tucking it back under the sheets you wonder if your sister saw it. You hopped not, if she saw what you wrote or worse what you drew, she’d be telling the church to burn you at the stake.

You ran down the stairs quickly, not wanting to waste any more time, hoping that if you go over and get this night over with you can come back home and hide away in your room, wishing you were anywhere other than with this family.

This night seemed okay as far as talking about our lord and saviour over supper was. Mary was busy finishing up the final dish, letting Lucas and your parents laugh over a blessed bottle of wine. They had sent you and Lucas away to, get to know one another and Lucas had to perfect idea to show you his barn. A place where ‘he could be himself’. God, everything he says annoys you. Climbing the old rusty ladder, you stand in an empty hay loft. Your gut felt strange, like your body was warning you of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Until you felt a hand grip your shoulder softly but tight enough to make you freeze.

His breath was so close, pooling on your neck. fingers were ghosting along your corset strings making tears build in your eyes. Even though he was a little boy in your mind. He was much bigger than you and he could easily take advantage of you if you didn’t play your cards right. So you had to act. “And what might we get up to here hmm…”

His chuckle sickened you. “Well, we have some time before mother calls. So I thought we get to know each other. Just like our families wanted.” he pulled away, making a grunting sound behind you. You turned slowly to see he was sitting on a blanket that had been laid out on some hay. Was this disgusting excuse of a man really thinking he could charm you into sleeping with him? God, his ego was bigger than you thought. You giggled, waltzing around the small room pretending to think but in truth, you were looking for an exit. You could go down the ladder but he’d probably grab you before getting that low. Maybe over the side onto the beams. He won't be able to get to you then. But then you’d be trapped until you eventually have to climb back over. And you know he’s the type to wait you out.

A window. Probably leads onto the roof. Not practical but if you recall you did see a bunch of hay bails just outside so if you jump you’d be able to land on them. And a broken ankle or wrist was better than….”Where is your mind wondering, baby? Do I scare you?”

Your head snaps back to him, giving him a small smile. “Oh, no…no…” You step closer, looking him deep in his eyes. “you don’t scare me…baby…” You stood right above his laying figure, his legs spread, enough for you to place a foot in between them. A grim smirk painted his unpleasant features. he went to sit up and you used this as your now or never, kicking him right in the balls without another thought. His groan was loud, knowing if it weren't for how far you were from the house. Everyone would have heard.

“You little bitch!” You ran for the window, crawling out as quickly as you could. The top of your dress got caught on a nail ripping the fabric. But you didn’t waste any time to cry about broken material, looking for the hay bails. It wasn’t as high of a jump as you thought, sliding down the straw, making some of it get caught in your dress. You could hear Lucas groaning in the distance as you started to run. Run fast and run far.

You needed to go home. Quickest route is through the forestry back towards the centre of the village before turning off from the church. Jump Mr Smith's fence and climb the vines into your room. Simple enough. But it's dark, a little too dark and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and rabid footsteps in the distance. The forest was thick. Trees tightly snug together. You almost tripped several times over branches and roots. Your heart was racing now, panting as your mind was becoming hazy. Need to get home. Need to get home.

“Ohhhh Little Dove, where are you.” Lucas’s deep sinister voice echoed through the dark forest. He was too close, you needed to stop. Hide. Maybe he’d go past you or head back. “Come out, baby. We were just having some fun.”

Quiet. Be silent. don’t move. Not a mucsle.

He called your name this time your real one making you gulp. His voice was maybe two or three trees away from where you stood. A twig snaps and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes. He was so close it was like you could still feel his breath. “Come on princess...” His hand wrapped the tree you were standing against and everything stopped. You closed your eyes thinking for a moment, trying to play thousands of scenarios of how you could get away. But nothing would work. He caught you. He danced the bend, slipping right into your view. Before you could run his hand gripped your throat making you freeze. “Don’t worry baby. I don’t bite.”

His words were short... sinister, like he had achieved his ultimate goal of capturing his prey. Your eyes widened going to spit back a comment but your words caught in your throat as you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Lucas. Tall, dark. Red eyes glowing through the night. Everything happened so quickly, the beast grasped Lucas the same way he had you, pulling him back with fright. “But I do…”

The creature's fangs pierced the disgusting man's neck making him scream out a noise that would make your blood curdle. His grip dropped from you, trying to scratch and fight off the larger figure. You took this moment to run, not even caring if the creature was going to kill him or not. All you knew was you needed to run. But you couldn’t run home anymore. There’s blood on your hands literally, Lucas’s blood splattered on you. If this wasn’t a perfect situation the priest was looking for to burn you at the stake you don’t know what is. “Hey, this way.”

You physically jump hearing a high-pitched voice cooe at you through the wind. It was a hooded figure, and normally you would of not gone with a stranger but in this case it seemed fair. You followed the person who seemed to be always a few steps ahead of you at all times no matter how hard you tried to catch up. It was only then, when you stopped focusing on the person to look around you noticed they were leading you to the castle grounds. Where myth reads vampires inhabit. That must have been what got Lucas.

A blood sucking vampire.

You stopped in your tracks not knowing to go back or forward. It’s not like vampires scared you per se. It was just. You were human and they are beasts. They would certainly eat you before you could plead your case. But one of them saved you right? That’s what it was doing? Not just finding two humans and deciding to have a late-night snack right….

“Hey over here.” The figure called for you again but when you looked up everything suddenly went black.

Your head was ringing. Heartbeat thumping slowly in your ears. Black splotches clouded your vision as you tried to look around. You were in a room. A Billiard room, to be exact. You have never seen a room of such a size. The bottom of your house most definitely fitting in this room alone. The leather under your fingers felt expensive, seeing the brown with bubbled texture. It was lavish, elegant—

"Beautiful, isn't it." A smooth voice swayed your attention, having caught you admiring the fine fabrics of the furniture. Your eyes locked with deep crimson ones. He was like nothing you've ever seen before. He was stunning, tall, and broad. You had to gulp at the sheer beauty of the man. But you knew he wasn't just a man. From his eyes, you knew he was a beast, a night crawler.

"Are you going to respond? Or are you more of a staring type?" Another voice scared you slightly. Looking to your left, you see another man, but he was sitting on the couch next to you. His black undercut fitted his features perfectly. He kind of sounded like the hooded figure that was helping you get away before...

"Definitely the quiet, staring type." A cheeky tone to your right. He was leaning on the pool table, his Cheshire cat grin painting his features smugly.

So there's three of them that live here?

"Now now, Woo, San. She's probably just scared." A shorter but beefier male suddenly stood next to the first one that spoke. He wasn't even looking at you, mostly paying attention to the two he called Woo and San. You were now sitting straight up, moving your gaze from each of them. As they were all in their own worlds arguing about why you might not be talking.

"You're bleeding, Tiny?" A voice growled behind you, startling you. You turned to see two very big men standing behind the couch. "When did you cut yourself?" He dragged his two fingers through your wound, making you hiss, pulling away from him.

He put one of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he were savouring the taste. Once he was done, he placed his other bloody finger in the male next to him, mouth. The other man groaned his eyes, glowing a harsher red as he stared you down. "You taste delicious, Sugar."

You went to stand, trying to get away from them, but your legs gave out, making you fall forward in front of the high-pitched boy who still sat on the other couch. "Be careful, Dollface. Don’t want ya gettin hurt."

"Okay, let's give her some space. Wooyoung, take San down to the kitchens and see if dinner is ready yet. Mingi and Yunho can go set the table." The one that stood at the door, the first man directed all the men with ease. They will followed without another word, heading for the door. "And for the love of Lillith, Jongho, can you please find your lover and Hongjoong. I think they were still cleaning up from..." He looked at you briefly. "Dealing with that disgusting human."

You knew he was talking about Lucas, and that meant this Lover boy or Hongjoong had been the one you saw ripping through Lucas's neck. They all left soon after, leaving you alone with the dominant man. You managed to sit back on the couch, but you wanted, needed to stand. So you tried your luck again, and your knees buckled, making you slip forward, but instead of making an impact with the ground, two large arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the creature's biceps, feeling his muscles taught and tense. "You do need to be careful, Darling."

Unlike Lucas's or any man, you've ever met really. These creatures don't seem to set off any of your alarms. You didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, but you chose to brush it off, ‘cause in the end, you had never felt such kindness from anyone in the village. You were out-casted, unloved. You might as well be the witch they all wanted you to be. The kind smile that painted his features made your heart skip. He was indeed handsome. You finally spoke up saying who you were and the man looked at you with surprise before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you…”

Your name rolled off his tongue so beautifully. No one had ever used it to address you before. It was almost strange, foreign even. “Honestly you could call me anything. I was never called that name sadly.”

Seonghwa hummed in response, still holding tight on you. In truth, he knows much more about you than he leads on. When he and the others go on hunts he had found you a year ago. Ironically you were having your nineteenth birthday. On your own of course. He remembers the way you spoke to yourself, wishing yourself a happy birthday while you drew in your book. Your feet were in the cool water of the watering hole in the forestry just outside the village. You went there almost every second day. And so did he.

There was something about you that caught his eye. Caught all of the boy's eyes. You were special but none of them could put their finger on it. So of course when they found you running for your life from a disgusting man. They couldn’t stand by and let anything happen to their precious little human.

Dinner was quick as you just sat there and ate in silence. The others were loud though, making it seem almost normal. Like everything that was happening was something you all were used to already. Seonghwa had told you about all the boys and what all their names were. It took you a moment to put names to faces but once you got it. It was easy. Seonghwa never left your side. Making sure you were safe and comfortable. You appreciated it, understanding it must have been weird to have a human walking around. But you quickly learnt that all the maids and butlers were human. They got paid and some even lived on the estate.

Everything the village said about vampires and creatures in general was so wrong. And secretly you always wanted it to be wrong. So you were glad they weren't purely just bloodsucking beasts. But every now and then that face you saw popped into your head. You still didn’t know which one killed Lucas. And on top of it, this Hongjoong and Yeosang—Seonghwa had told you his name—were nowhere to be found.

“Okay well, sun will be up soon. Let’s get ready for bed.” Seonghwa again spoke up, dying down the chatter. It was like he took on a motherly role in the house. It was cute.

“Come Sugarcube. Yunho and I will show you to your room.” The one named Mingi flashed you a smile making you smile in response. Bidding Seonghwa goodnight or would It be morning now? Mental note to look out for a clock. The halls were lavish and carpeted, matching all the rooms you’ve seen thus far. Everything was perfect, vintage and beautiful. Yunho and Mingi had caught onto your mind wandering and had stopped for a moment, seeing how far you’d walk without them near you. You were very cute to them. Like a clueless bunny, with wide innocent eyes.

“Hey, Tiny. Your room is over here.” Yunho’s far voice snapped you out of your thoughts making you turn around to see both large men. Their arms crossed, with big grins. Your face was redder than a tomato in seconds making them both groan at how you waddle back quickly. Cute. Too cute. “This is where you’ll be saying. We’ll try and get some of your personal things tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Hongjoong had said something about grabbing some stuff while your family are out tomorrow.” Mingi rubbed the back of his neck as you slipped past both men to look into the huge spacious room. Only hours ago you were about to be married off to some pig and live on his farm until your death to now staying with not one but eight vampires.

And what was worse. You couldn’t go back. Not that you’d want to that is. But still, all your life you’ve known one thing and now… “You okay Tiny? Not the style you like? We have like ten other rooms if you want to-No it’s okay it’s just…” You cut Yunho off before taking a seat on the olive green and black silk sheets that lay on the large king bed.

“Did…Did Lucas die?” You don’t understand why you were asking about that pig but you needed to know. You needed to know would your parents found his mangled body and thought the beast that did that also killed you. Or would they think you did it? Yunho sat on his knees in front of you, placing his large hands on your thighs in a comforting manner. His smile was soft and his fingers grazing on your exposed skin was gentle.

“No. Yeosang left him alive. But he won't be wanting to live with the way he looks now.” You don’t know if Yunho’s words made you feel better or worse.

“Hongjoong helped him drag him back to that barn. His parents found him and they are looking for you at the moment.” Mingi revealed, knowing you’ll just keep asking questions so there was no reason to hide anything from you.

“Do my parents think I’m dead?” Deep down you knew they’d be happy either way. Dead, alive. Murderer or innocent. Your family would plead their sob story about the monster you were regardless of the truth.

“No…Lucas told them you ran. They think you were a part of it. Luring him out there for your vampire lover to have a meal.” Yunho felt disgusted with himself for repeating what Hongjoong had told them your parents said. But what else should they do?

“Vampire lover….hmm.” You smiled, starting to laugh. That’s what they probably thought you were sneaking off to at random hours of the day or night. Both of the men looked at one another with confusion, letting Mingi sit down next to you.

“Something funny with that Sugarcube?” Mingi’s voice was so deep, velvety. It made your core tingle and heart race. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, but still giving him a smile.

“My mother has wanted nothing but to pin some devilish thing on me and now she gets it. Something that said I did not serve the lord. Argh…” Tears ran down your cheeks “Fuck the lord. Why should I have to care what an old man did for humanity?! I just wanted to paint. Find adventure. Not marry and be a baby maker for some lowlife pig.” All your pent-up anger. All your disappointment. Every single thing you wished to say to your mother was pouring out, in front of two vampires you had only met hours ago now. It felt like a weight being pushed off your chest and you were no longer drowning. Mingi’s hand rubbed circles on your lower back making you fall into his embrace, letting him hold you while Yunho straightened up so he could hold you as well. They were beasts that could drain you in seconds yet they held you like they’ve known you for years. They listened as if they cared. They spoke as if you were the most important person in the world. why?

“There, there baby. It’s okay. You’re free now. You can do anything you want.” Yunho’s voice was quiet almost barely above a whisper. But still still heard him. You pulled away letting them still hold you but you could wipe your face. You can do anything? No one has ever said that to you.

“Well...I guess since this my first time of freedom…” You had both the vampire's attention now with your words. “I want a bath. One with lots of bubbles.” You’ve never had such a thing in your life only settling for quick showers or sharing bathing pools with your siblings. Not something lavish. Mingi laughed a deep hearty laugh. As if you couldn't get any more cute, there you went.

“I think that’s a perfect idea Sugar. We’ll get one of the maids to fix one up for you. And…” He placed his hands on either shoulder pushing you towards Yunho. Your face inches from him. Mingi inspected the wound of your shoulder blade noticing it was already closing but blood was still pooling out of it slowly. “Get this wound cleaned up…”

His tongue licked a strip upwards, following the wound. You hiccuped feeling a slight sting from him. Yunho however distracted you by giving you a kiss. Your eyes were wide and confused. He… he was kissing you. His soft lips moved slowly against yours. His tongue dipped around your bottom lip, testing the waters. Perfectly distracting you from Mingi cleaning your cut with his mouth. Your blood tasted unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

“You taste amazing… fuck.” Mingi mumbled against you while Yunho’s tongue slipped into your mouth as you groaned. Your mind was spinning like crazy, your hand finding place on Yunho biceps, digging your nails in his cold flesh.

“Y…Yuyu..” You tried to speak, finally making both men pull away, leaving you to gasp for air.

“Sorry tiny. Your lips were just too kissable not to.” Yunho chuckled licking his lips of the saliva you left behind on them. Your heart was pounding, feeling such excitement but also a tinge of fear…

“Tha… that was my first kiss..” You felt embarrassed to say so but you felt compelled to tell them. Which made both of them growl. Mingi’s fingers wrapped in your tattered dress hem while Yunho rubbed his hand over his face.

“Fuck. I was your first kiss baby?” Yunho felt so proud of himself.

“Damn Yunho the others aren't gonna be happy when they find out,” Mingi spoke as if you were no longer there.

“Wait why would the others care?” You suddenly felt small, seeing hunger in both their eyes. You had no idea what these men were planning, nor what they all wanted from you. It frightened you. But not as much as it excited you.

The bath was filled with bubbles, vanilla scent soap and soft music from a vinyl. You could have stayed in there for hours but when one of the maids came in to help you dress your wound you knew it was time to get out. The nice maid named Minnie had brought you some sleepwear, soft silk sleep shorts and a singlet. You have never felt such soft fabric before always getting hand-me-downs or second/third hand clothing.

“You look cute.” A gentle voice echoed from the door of your room. You hummed, blush burning your cheeks. Turning you see Seonghwa leaning against the door frame, bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed you, not even trying to hide that he was checking you out.

“Thanks…” You played with your fingers, standing there awkwardly as you watched Seonghwa close the door, slowly moving towards you. Like he was stalking you. No doubt Yunho and Mingi had run off bragging what they had done when you were busy bathing. God, if this was going to become a new normal you were going to develop a headache from your head spinning.

“I wanted to check on you.” For every step he took, you took one back, like a little dance until your back was firmly against the wall and his body almost flushed against you. “I heard Min and Yun had some fun with you.”

“I-..Yunho kissed me…Mingi he uh…” You felt so flustered, fanatically looking around the room feeling embarrassed about spilling what you had done even though you knew the two giants would have told everyone by now. He put his fingers on your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it slightly.

“I was kinda hoping to be the first to taste you. But then again, none of the boys tend to listen.” His eyes were hooded, looking at you with such hunger. He could feel your heart race against the pad of his thumb. He can hear your blood pumping quicker than normal. And your eyes never left his. His face inched closer, and then some. Seeing just how close he could get to you before you’d pull away but you didn’t, not even flinch. “Have you done anything like this before?”

You shook your head no slightly. “Have you ever touched yourself, Bunny?” his question made your face become redder. This was filthy, dirty, something you were supposed to be sworn away. And man did defying god feel intoxicating. You whispered no, making him close his eyes with a sigh for a moment. So innocent, so cute… So his to taint. “Do you want me to touch you, Bunny?”

“Yes…” You whisper… He tucked a piece of damp hair behind your ear making you shiver as his fingers grazed your skin. His cold tips slide along your cheek, down to your neck, before pushing gently on your man artery feeling your hot blood pump under his digits.

“I could drain you dry right now. Or fuck you full? Maybe both? Hmm?” His lips brushed against yours but not enough to seal his lips on yours. No, he wanted you to do it, he needed you to do the first move. So he knows you do in fact want it. And you gave him exactly what he wanted, leaning up to lock your lips to his. His one hand cupped your face to deepen the kiss while his other, snaked down to play with the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread instinctively, giving him access to do whatever he pleases. His wet tongue danced with you making you feel all kinds of filthy.

You had almost gotten a man killed, ran away from home. Most likely been shunned for life from your village and on top of that kissed two men that both happened to be undead creatures you only just met, while another drank from one of your open wounds. If was indeed sins, you might as well be sent down to Lillith herself on a golden platter.

“Come on Bunny, let’s get you comfortable.” He pulled away picking you up by your thighs before walking over to your bed and laying you down on the plump mattress. His lips trail down your cheeks, then your jaw until he stops at your neck for a moment rubbing his nose along your jugular. “God I can smell your blood through your soft skin.” he sighs, drawing his fangs out.

“H-Hwa p-please…” You bucked your hips against his hardening length, spreading your legs further so he could get closer if that was possible. He chuckled, darkly. Fang pressing just hard enough to pierce your skin a little bit so a few drops of blood would spill out. He licked your blood up, trying not to get any on the bed sheets. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and your taste was heavenly. Now he’s wondering how else you taste in other places. “Fuuckk.”

The feeling of his fangs and the was his fingers play with your short made your head cloudy. His hand slipped into your shorts cupping your core making you suddenly aware what was happening. His mouth finally left your neck, kissing down the exposed parts of your chest. He was worshiping every part of your body sending your skin on fire. “Such a pretty bunny. I can feel heat pooling out of you. Do you find my devilish charms that intoxicating bunny?”

You squirmed, needed more. His index finger slide along your slit making your mouth open into an ‘o’ shape. Your eyes shut tightly, finally feeling some kind of relief that you were searching for. The pleasure was new, and strange, making you feel like you were in a whole another world. Seonghwa kept whispering sweet nothings to you as he slowly pushes a finger inside your drenched cunt. It was steady at first until he found a rhythm, inching yet another finger inside making your brows knot together. His name fell from your lips on repeat like some kind of broken vinyl, he knew he could get you close to your high without much effort given you have never felt such a feeling before. And with only a few more moments you were clenching around his digits, coming underdone while he stared at you intensely, watching every one of your features move and contort in the pure ecstasy he was gifting you. “Did that feel good baby? I can make you feel even better, all you got to do is say yes.”

“Yes, please Seonghwa. Please. Make me feel like that again. I wanna feel good.” You don’t know why your mouth started spilling such filth but you couldn’t care, not when you were so close to feeling a pleasure you have only wondered about in those lewd novels Miss Smith had down the path. She had let you borrow one and it had changed your life forever. Seonghwa got to work, pulling your shirt off above your head and tugging down the rest until it slipped off your ankles in one swoop of his wrists. You were completely bare for him. He could see all the sun-kissed spots. All the scars, and beauty marks. He could see the bruises of a handprint on your collarbone and other smaller ones littering your legs and arms.

Pathetic human. Digusting pig.

Fuck, does he wish that Yeosang and Hongjoong hadn’t kept him alive now. But then again giving him a swift death would have been too merciful. No, Seonghwa would want to keep Lucas in a cell, locked away for weeks. No food, barely any water. Watching him starve. Watch him beg for death. But Seonghwa would never give it to him. Lucas would welter away in the dungeon, cold, scared, and alone. Just as you felt when you were being chased by him. Just as you felt when he had put his hands on you. Seonghwa would make him pay.

“H-Hwa…” You sat on your elbows having seen the vampire's mind wander. Was he okay? Was he second-guessing his actions? Seonghwa was quick to disregard any of your fears as he shed himself off his shirt, before sliding off the bed to pull his pants down. They dropped to the floor with an audible ‘oof’. You didn't mean for your eyes to immediately gaze down at his fully grown erection but its angry red tip had caught your attention. Seonghwa didn’t mind one bit though, he admired your body in the meantime, letting you get a good look at him while he did the same to you. “That can’t fit inside me….”

Seonghwa laughed, physically laughed at your abrupt statement. “Oh don’t worry. It will.” he yanked one of your legs making you gasp. He stood tall at the end of your bed, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, gathering up some of your cum to use as lubricant. The whole time his eyes never left yours. He wanted to see the pleasure pooling in your eyes when he entered you inch by inch. And as you bit your bottom lip, you tried your damned hardest to keep your gaze open. “That’s it, baby. Breath…”

The stretch was painful, to say the least. Even though Seonghwa had used his fingers on you, it still wasn’t enough to fully prep you for his girth. He rubbed circles in your hips, trying to settle the pain as much as he could, noticing your fingers had entangled in the silk sheets, with your knuckles turning lightly white.

“Ffuckk, hngmm Seong.” you mumbled, finally feeling him enter you fully, his groin flush against you. He stayed still for a moment, letting you catch your breath but man was it hard. The way you clamped around him, sucked him in for more. It made him want nothing more than to pound the living shit out of you. But patience. He needed patience. And luckily out of all the boys, he owned the most patience.

“Can I move Darling?” His words were a stutter, laying with groans and sighs. You nodded your head before responding with a quick and quiet ‘please’ letting him draw his cock until only the tip was inside you then smashing back in, knocking the wind out of you. You could no longer hold yourself up, falling onto your back. Seonghwa watched as your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and how your thighs were clamped snugly around him. You felt amazing, looked eternal. And you were finally his.

He dreamed about what your cunt might feel like wrapped around his cock. Or how might your blood taste when you are in the middle of being fucked. Firty thoughts had always seemed to riddle his mind whenever he saw you and now he could finally get the answers. But one thing is for sure. He has no idea how he is possibly going to share you with the others. When he is going to be craving you permanently.

-♥︎

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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

Text

devotion — geto suguru.

“I thought if I gave my life to God, he would spare yours.” You stared at him, stunned, as his words sank in. “Suguru… I don’t understand.” He looked down, his hands trembling. “Years ago, when we… when we lost touch, I heard about your illness.” he explained, his voice heavy with emotion. “I was told you might not survive. I felt helpless, powerless to do anything. So, I prayed. I prayed with everything I had, and I promised God that if he saved you, I would give my life in return. I would serve him, devote myself to his cause. And you… you recovered.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, fluff, forbidden romance, love, hurt/comfort, nsfw, r-18, smut, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, falling in love again, sexual intercourse, pining, hurt, religious guilt, happy ending, aged up characters (suguru and reader are in their 40s), first loves rekindling their relationship, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of pining, depiction of religious aspects, mention of parting, mention of the past, mention of previous husband, father! suguru, widowed! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: i was thinking whether or not this is what i should publish for kinktober but i feel like since i've been going on this trend of giving my stories a happy ending, i feel like this is one of them that deserves it, i feel. this is the sequel of 'to build a home'!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! and love wins all, even time!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip!

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YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOU’D SEE HIM AGAIN. But you were getting too ahead of destiny. It has been nearly twenty years since you last saw Geto Suguru. Time had blurred the details of his face in your memory — the precise shape of his smile, the warmth in his eyes when he spoke your name.

You thought you’d forgotten him, buried him under the weight of all those years. But there he was, standing at the front of the room, his voice steady and serene as he read the eulogy for your husband.

You tried to focus on the words, tried to let them seep into your soul and cradle your grief. But all you could see was him. The lines on his face had deepened, a touch of gray in his hair, but he was still so achingly familiar. You could feel the stirrings of something old and hidden, something you thought you’d buried long ago.

You felt guilty. This was the day you were supposed to mourn your husband, to remember all the good moments you had shared. But as you sat there, dressed in black, your gaze kept drifting back to Suguru. How strange it was to see him like this — a priest, of all things. You wondered what had led him down this path, what had happened in those years you hadn’t been a part of his life.

His voice was calm and soothing, and it reminded you of the way he used to speak when you were alone together. You found yourself holding your breath, the memories coming back like an unexpected wave. The nights you spent talking until dawn, the feel of his hand in yours, the way he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world. You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to you like a desperate whisper.

You were grieving, yes, but somehow those old feelings resurface, like they had been waiting all this time, just beneath the surface. It was wrong, you knew it, but there was something in the way Suguru spoke, in the way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, that made it feel like maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be.

And as the service drew to a close, you wondered if he felt it too.

As the ceremony ended, the quiet murmur of condolences filled the room, but you barely heard them. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of sorrow and anticipation you couldn't quite understand. People passed by, offering their sympathy, their touches gentle on your arm, but your eyes were on him. Suguru stood at the front, still dressed in his somber robes, speaking with a few guests, his expression kind and composed, but you saw the moment he noticed you watching.

He paused, his words faltering for just a second, and then his gaze found yours. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to fall away, and there was only the two of you, standing on opposite sides of a great chasm of time. You felt rooted in place, as if moving would shatter whatever fragile connection had formed between you across the room.

When you finally mustered the courage to approach him, your steps were slow and tentative. He turned to face you fully, his hands clasped in front of him, and for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked, and yet, how much the same. The years had softened his edges, but his eyes — those deep, searching eyes — were just as intense, just as familiar.

“Suguru,” you breathed, unsure what else to say. His name felt foreign on your lips after so long, but also strangely comforting. He gave a small, sad smile, the kind that spoke of understanding beyond words.

“It’s been a long time,” he replied, his voice a quiet murmur, almost swallowed by the room’s low hum. There was a gravity to his tone that made your chest tighten, as if he was trying to convey all the things that had gone unsaid in the years between you.

You nodded, feeling the sting of tears you had not expected. “I never thought I’d see you like this,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I didn’t know you… became our little town’s priest.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was both strange and familiar, and something in it warmed you. “Life has a way of leading us to unexpected places,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “I didn’t expect to see you here either… under these circumstances.”

You flinched, a fresh wave of grief washing over you. “No, I suppose not,” you whispered. “But it is good to see you, even now. Even… like this.”

He nodded, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was filled with all the things you wanted to say but didn’t know how. You could feel the years stretching between you like a bridge you were both afraid to cross.

“You look…” he started, then faltered, his gaze sweeping over your face. “You look just as I remember, even after all these years.”

You laughed softly, a sound tinged with both sorrow and disbelief. “I doubt that,” you replied, shaking your head. “It’s been a long time. We’ve both changed.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice soft. “But some things don’t change. Some things stay with you, no matter how much time passes.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Was he talking about you? About whatever you once had? You wanted to ask, but the words stuck in your throat, caught between your grief and the unexpected flood of emotions his presence had stirred.

Instead, you simply stood there, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, feeling that old, familiar ache that you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying all these years. And when he reached out, his hand hovering just above yours, you found yourself closing the distance, your fingers brushing against his in a touch that felt like both a question and an answer.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” he said, his voice low, filled with a sincerity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I truly am.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. You didn’t know if you were thanking him for the words, or for being here, or for just being him.

You cleared your throat, a delicate sound breaking the tension between you. Your heart still aches from the loss, but there was a strange comfort in his presence, a familiarity that felt almost like a balm. You glanced to your side, where your daughter stood, her small hand gripping yours tightly. She looked up at you, her young face a mix of confusion and sorrow, her eyes still red from crying.

For a moment, neither of you moved, standing there like two ghosts caught in the past. But in his eyes, you saw something flicker — a spark of recognition, of something that had never really gone away. And as the room began to empty, you knew this was not the end. Not quite. Not yet.

“This is my daughter, father.” you said softly, turning to Suguru. “Say hello, sweetheart.”

Your daughter hesitated for a moment, still clinging to you, but eventually she offered a shy smile. “Hello.” she whispered, her voice small and uncertain.

Suguru’s expression softened as he crouched down to her level, his eyes gentle. “Hello there, child.” He greeted me warmly, his tone light. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Father Suguru.”

She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to decide what to make of this stranger who seemed to know her mother so well. But Suguru had always been good with children, you remembered. There was a kindness in his demeanor that drew them in. After a moment, she nodded, accepting his presence with the solemnity only a child could muster at such a moment.

“You’ve grown up so much.” Suguru said, his gaze shifting back to you, and there was something tender in the way he looked at you, a flicker of an old memory shared between you.

Before you could respond, two young girls approached from behind him, their eyes wide with curiosity. They looked almost identical, with long dark hair and matching dresses, and they stood close together, their hands clasped as if seeking comfort from one another. You noticed the way they watched Suguru, their eyes full of trust and affection.

“These are my girls.” Suguru said, smiling gently. “Mimiko and Nanako. I adopted them some years ago. They were… lost, in a way, and I thought I could offer them something of a home.”

You felt a pang of recognition in your chest, understanding without needing to ask. He had always had a soft spot for the vulnerable, a quiet compassion that was buried beneath his strength. The girls looked up at you, curious and shy, and you gave them a gentle smile.

“Hello, Mimiko. Hello, Nanako.” you said softly. “It’s very nice to meet you both.”

They glanced at each other, and then Mimiko, the braver of the two, stepped forward. “Are you our father’s friend?” she asked, her voice small but direct. There was something almost protective in the way she looked at you, as if she was gauging whether you were worthy of her father’s trust.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. A friend? Were you even that anymore? You wanted to say something else in the back of your mind. You were more than friends, you were lovers. You were everything to each other. Yet you couldn’t. Your lips would not move. But before you could find the right words, Suguru chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“We used to be….close. We met each other a long time ago,” he answered for you, his gaze never leaving yours. “But we finally met again today, it would seem.”

Nanako, still holding Mimiko’s hand, tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Why did you stop?” she asked innocently.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, a thousand unspoken answers rising to your lips. How could you explain? How could you sum up all the lost years, the paths that had diverged, the choices that had led you here, to this moment?

Suguru turned to his daughters, his smile soft but tinged with a hint of sadness. “Sometimes life takes us in different directions, my dear.” he said gently. “But it doesn’t mean we stop caring about the people we once knew.”

Mimiko seemed satisfied with this answer, but Nanako continued to watch you, as if trying to see into your soul. You could feel the weight of her gaze, but there was no malice in it, only a child’s unfiltered curiosity.

“I’m sorry…..” you said, addressing Suguru again, though your eyes flicked briefly to the girls. “For all the years we lost. I… I didn’t mean for it to be that way.”

He shook his head, a soft smile touching his lips. “Don’t apologize to me about it.” he replied. “We did what we had to do, back then. But it’s good to see you now, and… to see the life you’ve built.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “It’s good to see you too, Suguru.” you whispered. “And to your girls too.”

He nodded, his gaze holding yours, and for a moment, the weight of the years seemed to lift, just slightly. You weren’t sure where this would lead, if anywhere at all. But you knew that something had shifted, something had opened between you, a door long closed but never quite locked. And maybe, just maybe, there was room to step through, to find out what lay on the other side.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T HAVE IT IN YOU TO LEAVE THE HOUSE FOR A WHILE. The days had grown longer since the funeral, each one stretching into the next with a quiet emptiness you hadn’t anticipated.

The house, once filled with the familiar rhythms of your husband’s presence, now seemed to echo with a silence that settled deep in your bones. To stave off the hollow ache that threatened to consume you, you kept yourself busy — perhaps too busy.

You tended to your garden with a fervor that bordered on obsession, your hands constantly stained with earth, fingers rooting through the soil as if searching for something buried there, something that might fill the void.

The roses were blooming better than ever, their petals full and lush, as if they knew how much you needed them now. Your days blurred together in the quiet sanctuary of your backyard, kneeling among the flowers until the sun dipped below the horizon.

When you weren’t in the garden, you took your dogs for long, meandering walks. They were your faithful companions, sensing your grief in their quiet, unspoken way. You found solace in their steady presence, in the rhythm of their paws on the pavement, and the way they’d look back at you, as if making sure you were still there, still moving forward.

But your daughter, ever perceptive, noticed the way your days seemed to stretch out like a taut wire, threatening to snap. She was packing for college now, her room in disarray, and you could see the worry creasing her brow every time she glanced your way.

One evening, as you sat together at the kitchen table, your daughter set down the book she’d been pretending to read and looked at you with a seriousness that caught you off guard.

“Mom.... I.... uh…..” she began, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve been thinking… about when I leave.”

You forced a smile, trying to keep your tone light. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ve got the garden, the dogs… plenty to keep me busy.”

She shook her head, her expression earnest. “That’s just it, though. I don’t want you to be just… keeping busy. I want you to have people around you. Friends. People to talk to.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I have friends,” you insisted gently, though you knew what she was getting at.

“Not like that,” she countered, shaking her head. “I mean… I want you to have new friends. I know this has been hard on you, losing Dad. And I just… I worry about you being lonely when I’m gone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, a familiar sensation these days. “I’ll manage,” you murmured, but she wasn’t deterred.

“What about Father Suguru?” she asked, and you blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected her to bring him up, not after the funeral, not after everything that had been left unspoken between you and the priest who had once been so much more.

“What about him?” you asked cautiously.

“He seems… nice.” she said, hesitating for a moment. “And you used to know him, right? Before Dad, before everything. Why not… reconnect with him? I mean, he invited you to church activities, didn’t he?”

You looked down at your hands, feeling a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know… It feels strange, after all these years.”

“Maybe…..” she conceded. “But he’s reaching out, and I think it might be good for you. You don’t have to do it alone, you know? And it might help… to have someone around who understands.”

You looked up at her, seeing the concern etched in her young face, the worry that you had tried so hard to keep at bay. She was right, of course — the house was too big and too quiet, and the days too long. And perhaps, she had a point. Perhaps there was something to be said for reaching out, for finding solace in old friendships, even if they had been left behind in another life.

“I’ll think about it.” you finally said, offering her a small smile.

She reached out, taking your hand. “Just try, Mom. For me. I just want you to be happy… to find some peace.”

You nodded, feeling a tightness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’ll try.” you promised, though the words felt heavier than you expected.

That Sunday, you found yourself standing outside the church, the morning sun casting long shadows on the stone steps. You hesitated, your heart thudding in your chest, but then you saw him — Suguru, standing by the entrance, greeting the parishioners as they arrived. His face brightened when he saw you, and he raised a hand in a small, almost tentative wave.

Taking a deep breath, you walked toward him, feeling the weight of the years between you like a whisper in the air. But as you drew closer, you felt something lift, something small but hopeful, as if maybe — just maybe — there was still room for new beginnings, even now.

Suguru’s smile widened as you approached, a gentle warmth radiating from him that eased some of the tension winding tight in your chest. He was dressed simply, in a way that suited him, with the plain black shirt and collar of his vocation. Yet, there was an ease in his posture, an openness that seemed to welcome you without hesitation.

“Good morning.” he greeted softly, his voice carrying a familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad to see you here.”

You returned his smile, though it felt a bit shaky on your lips. “I… thought I’d take you up on your invitation.” you replied, your words feeling tentative, almost shy. “My daughter encouraged me to come.”

He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “She’s a wise young woman.” he said, his tone light. “I’m sure she just wants you to have some company, some… support.”

“I think she worries about me.” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “And she’s right. The house is quiet. Too quiet, sometimes.”

Suguru’s expression softened, and he stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate level. “I understand,” he murmured. “More than you know. It’s easy to feel lost in the silence after everything changes. But… you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You felt your heart ache at the kindness in his words, at the understanding he offered so freely. “Thank you.” you whispered. “It’s… been hard. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Suguru’s gaze held yours, steady and patient. “Grief has a way of sneaking up on us when we least expect it.” he said softly. “But you’re here now. And that’s something. You’ve taken a step.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I suppose I have.”

He gestured toward the entrance of the church, where people were beginning to gather, a soft hum of conversation filling the air. “Would you like to come in?” he asked. “We’re having a small gathering after the service — just some coffee and a chance to chat. I think you might enjoy it.”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of uncertainty heavy on your shoulders. But there was a sincerity in Suguru’s eyes, a quiet encouragement that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

“I think I’d like that.” you said finally, your voice is firmer than before. “I could use a bit of company.”

His smile grew, genuine and warm. “Good.” he said, stepping back to let you pass. “I’ll be right by your side if you need anything. And I’m sure there are plenty of people here who would love to meet you.”

As you stepped inside, you were immediately enveloped by the soft glow of the stained glass windows, the warm, golden light casting colorful patterns across the pews. The room was filled with the low murmur of conversation, and you felt a flutter of anxiety in your chest. But Suguru was beside you, his presence steadying, and somehow that made it easier.

He introduced you to a few members of the congregation — older women with kind smiles, younger families with children who clung shyly to their parents’ legs. You exchanged polite pleasantries, feeling a bit like a fish out of water, but everyone was welcoming, their warmth a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that had filled your days.

After the service, as promised, there was coffee and tea in the small parish hall. You found yourself standing beside Suguru as he chatted easily with a group of parishioners, his voice calm and comforting, his laugh a soft rumble that seemed to put everyone at ease. You watched him from the corner of your eye, still marveling at the way he had changed and yet stayed so much the same.

At some point, Mimiko and Nanako found their way to your side, their small hands tugging on the hem of your jacket. “Are you going to be our friend too?” Mimiko asked, her eyes wide with hope.

You smiled down at her, your heart softening at her earnest expression. “I’d like that very much, if you would allow me.” you replied, and she beamed, satisfied with your answer.

Nanako, quieter but just as curious, looked up at you with a small smile. “Papa says you used to be his best friend.” she said matter-of-factly.

Suguru chuckled softly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. “Children are so honest, aren’t they?” he murmured.

You laughed, feeling a lightness you hadn’t felt in months. “Yes.” you agreed, looking at him. “They are.”

Your conversation flowed, you felt the tension in your shoulders begin to ease, the heaviness in your chest lifting, if only just a bit. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And as you stood there, surrounded by new faces and old memories, you realized that maybe your daughter had been right.

Maybe this was what you needed. Not to forget your grief, but to find a way to live with it, to let it become a part of you without letting it define you. And perhaps, with Suguru beside you, with new connections to explore, you could start to build something new from the ashes of what you had lost.

You caught Suguru’s eye again, and he offered you a small, understanding smile, as if sensing the shift within you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt something like hope.

══════════════════

TIME WITH SUGURU HEALED YOU. Over the next few weeks, you found yourself spending more and more time at the church. It had started with Sunday services and slowly expanded to weekday gatherings — a book club here, a community dinner there, little things that filled the empty spaces in your days.

Geto Suguru was always there, a quiet, steady presence. He was kind, attentive without being overbearing, and somehow, being around him made things feel just a bit lighter.

Your daughter noticed the change in you when she came home from college for the weekend. She saw the way your smile reached your eyes again, the way you seemed less burdened, and she was pleased.

“I knew you’d find someone to talk to, mom.” she said with a grin, her voice teasing. “Father Suguru is nice, isn’t he?”

You blushed at the mention of his name, feeling a strange mix of guilt and warmth. “He’s… he’s been very kind to me.” you replied. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to, that’s all.”

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Slowly, gently, you and Suguru had begun to fall into the rhythm of your old friendship, but there was something new simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken that neither of you dared to name.

You felt it in the way his eyes lingered just a little too long when he looked at you, in the way your hand brushed his in passing and lingered a moment too long. There was a magnetic pull between you, a quiet longing that seemed to grow with every passing day.

And yet, there was a line you both knew you could not cross.

Suguru never spoke of it, but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he caught himself when he stood too close or when his hand brushed yours in a way that felt almost… intentional.

He would smile, pull back, and busy himself with something else, as if to remind himself of the boundaries he could not breach. You could sense the struggle within him, the way he tried so hard to remain the devoted priest, the man who had chosen a life of service and sacrifice.

It was during a rainy afternoon, after a small charity event at the church, you found yourself in his office, helping him sort through donations. The rain pattered softly against the windows, casting a muted glow over the room.

You were both seated on the floor, sorting through clothes and toys, when your hands brushed again. This time, neither of you pulled away. Geto Suguru’s breath caught in his throat, and you felt your heart race in response. The air between you grew thick, charged with an energy you could no longer ignore.

He looked up at you, his expression conflicted, torn between the desire you both felt and the commitment he had made. “I shouldn’t…” he began softly, his voice barely a whisper.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. “I know,” you replied just as quietly. “I know it’s… complicated.”

Suguru’s eyes searched yours, as if looking for something — some kind of understanding, or perhaps, absolution. “I’ve… I’ve given my life to this.” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. “To the church, to God. I made a vow.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. “I don’t want to make things harder for you.” you whispered. “I don’t want you to have to choose.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “It’s not that simple.” he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. “I… I made that vow because I had to. Because I felt it was the only way I could atone for something. Something I never told you.”

You blinked, confused. “Atone? For what?”

He hesitated, the struggle evident in his eyes. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession. “I became a priest because… because I thought it might save you when you got in that accident.” he said, his words barely more than a breath.

You held your breath for a moment. You don’t know how you were going to deal with what he might say to you. What truths may come out. What can you say, what can you say and do after all these years? He'd hidden all that, he'd kept his silence for more than twenty years and you don't know what to do.

“What do you mean to say?”

“I thought if I gave my life to God, he would spare yours.”

You stared at him, stunned, as his words sank in. “Suguru… I don’t understand.”

He looked down, his hands trembling. “Years ago, when we… when we lost touch, I heard about what happened.” he explained, his voice heavy with emotion. “I was told you might not survive. I felt helpless, powerless to do anything. So, I prayed. I prayed with everything I had, and I promised God that if he saved you, I would give my life in return. I would serve him, devote myself to his cause. And you… you recovered.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. “You did that… for me?”

He nodded, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “I did. And I couldn’t break that promise, not when He answered me. I couldn’t… I still can’t. Not like this.”

A lump formed in your throat as you realized the depth of his sacrifice, the weight of the promise he had made. “Suguru, I… I don’t know what to say.” you whispered, feeling a mix of gratitude, sorrow, and something else — something deeper, more complicated.

He reached for your hand then, his touch gentle but firm. “You don’t have to say anything, okay?” he replied softly. “I just… I needed you to know. I need you to understand why I can’t… why can't……..”

You nodded, tears blurring your vision. “I understand.” you said, your voice breaking. “I won’t ask you to break your vow. I just… I just don’t want to lose you again.”

He squeezed your hand, his expression pained but resolute. “You won’t.” he promised. “Not as long as I can help it. But we have to be careful. We have to… to find a way to be friends again, without… without crossing that line.”

You nodded again, swallowing back the tears. “I can do that.” you said quietly. “I can try.”

══════════════════

YOU COULDN’T HELP UNDERSTAND WHAT TO FEEL.The days after your confession were a blur of forced distance and unspoken words. Every time you passed by his office or saw him in the hallways, there was a tension, a gravity that threatened to pull you back in. But you resisted, reminding yourself of the vow he had made and the reasons why you had to keep your distance.

His promise was not something to take lightly. You knew that, and so did he. There were obligations, personal codes, things he held dear, and breaking them meant more than just a fleeting moment of passion. It meant betrayal — to himself and to the values he had sworn to uphold. You couldn’t be the reason he wavered, no matter how much your heart ached with the memory of that moment in his office.

The memory haunted you. The way his eyes softened when you spoke, how his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his lips parted, ready to say something that never came. It was both a promise and a plea, something unspoken but understood between the two of you. Yet, you knew it couldn’t be.

So you did what you thought was best. You put distance between you, told yourself it was the only way to keep things under control. You busied yourself with anything and everything, trying to ignore the weight in your chest that grew heavier each day. But it wasn’t just you who pulled back.

He, too, kept his distance, his demeanor cool and composed, almost like nothing had ever happened. But there were cracks — moments when his eyes would meet yours across a crowded room, moments when his voice would catch ever so slightly when speaking to you.

In those moments, you wondered if he was feeling the same pull, the same struggle to keep his distance. Was it difficult for him too? Did he regret the way things were left, or was he relieved that you had taken the initiative to step back?

Despite the pain of staying away, you told yourself it was for the best. It was the right thing to do, even though every fiber of your being wanted to run back to him, to let yourself fall into whatever this was between you. But you couldn’t — you wouldn’t be the reason he broke his vow. Because as much as you longed for him, you respected him more.

Still, late at night, when you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but wonder: What if? What if you hadn’t walked away that day? What if he had been the one to break the distance? The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you with a bittersweet longing that neither distance nor time could seem to quiet.

But the distance only seemed to make things worse.

At first, it was easy enough to stay away. You busied yourself with gardening, taking the dogs for longer walks, filling your days with mundane chores and errands. But the quiet nights were harder.

Your thoughts would drift back to Suguru — to the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke your name. You’d catch yourself imagining the brush of his hand against yours, the warmth of his body close to yours, the way he had leaned in just a bit too close, as if he might kiss you if only for a second.

You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He was a priest. He had made a choice, a vow, and you respected that. But the more you tried to push those thoughts away, the more they seemed to creep in, filling the quiet spaces of your mind.

Suguru was struggling too. He tried to focus on his duties, on the congregation, on the children who relied on him. He threw himself into his work with a fervor that bordered on obsession, trying to drown out the thoughts of you that seemed to linger no matter how hard he prayed.

But late at night, alone in his quarters, he found himself thinking of you. Of your laugh, your smile, the way you had looked at him in his office, your eyes filled with understanding, with something deeper that had taken root in his chest and refused to let go.

He would close his eyes and imagine what it would feel like to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, to taste your lips, to feel the heat of your skin against his. He hated himself for it, for the desire that surged through him like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep him away from everything he had promised to uphold. He’d kneel by his bed, his forehead pressed against his clasped hands, and pray for strength, for guidance, for something — anything — to take this longing away.

But the longing only grew.

One evening, as you sat on your porch, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the garden, you felt the ache of loneliness settle deep in your bones.

You had spent the day trying to distract yourself, but nothing seemed to help. Every thought circled back to Suguru, to the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You found yourself wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you too, if he was struggling as much as you were.

Without really meaning to, you reached for your phone. You typed out a message, then deleted it. Typed another, then deleted that too. You sighed, setting the phone aside, telling yourself to stop, to let it go. But your hand hovered over the screen, and before you knew it, you were calling his number.

The phone rang once, twice, and then his voice came through, soft and uncertain. “Hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Hi.” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I hope I’m not bothering you.”

There was a pause, and you could hear the hesitation in his breath. “No.” he replied finally, his voice gentle. “You’re not bothering me.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “I just… I wanted to see how you were.” you admitted. “It’s been a while.”

He let out a soft sigh, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “It has.” he agreed. “I’ve… missed you.”

You closed your eyes, the words sinking into your skin like a balm. “I’ve missed you too.” you confessed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’ve been trying to stay away, but… it’s harder than I thought.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could hear the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of a chair. “I’ve been trying too.” he admitted, his voice strained. “But it’s… it’s not easy.”

There was something in his tone, a rough edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Suguru…….” you whispered, your heart pounding. “What are we going to do?”

He let out a breath, and you could feel the weight of his struggle, the battle raging within him. “I don’t know....." he replied honestly. “I’ve been praying for guidance, for… for something to help me make sense of this. But every time I close my eyes, all I see is you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the honesty of it slicing through you like a knife. “I… I feel the same.” you whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About… about what it would feel like to…”

The words were right there, lingering on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too potent, too dangerous to release. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening, your heart pounding in your chest as you stood there, teetering on the edge of a confession you weren't ready to make.

You wanted to say it, to let it all out — the weight of your feelings, the yearning that had grown over time, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop feeling for him. But the moment felt too fragile, too charged. One wrong word and the delicate balance you both had maintained for so long would shatter. And so, you trailed off, your voice faltering, the unsaid hanging thick between you.

But he knew. The air in the room seemed to shift, charged with a tension that neither of you could deny. You could hear it in his breathing, the way it hitched, just for a moment, as if he was caught off guard by the depth of what you almost said. His chest rose and fell with a newfound heaviness, each breath more labored than the last, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

He didn’t look at you right away, as if turning to face you would confirm everything — the longing, the hesitation, the unspoken desires that had been building between you both for far too long. But when he finally spoke, his voice trembled, a slight quiver beneath his usual steady tone. It wasn’t much, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to you, it was everything.

It was proof that he understood that he was feeling the same thing you were, even if neither of you could fully articulate it. His words, whatever they were, seemed like an afterthought, just filler to mask the emotions surging beneath the surface. Yet, the tremor in his voice betrayed him, and for a moment, you wondered if he would be the one to break first.

But he didn’t. Instead, you both stood there, suspended in the weight of your silence, the unspoken words pressing against your lips like a dam about to break. You could feel the heat of his presence, the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving an inch. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to hear, but neither of you dared cross that invisible line.

Even though nothing was said aloud, the room felt full — full of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to admit, full of everything he had already understood. The weight of it pressed on you, thick and heavy, and you realized that sometimes, words weren’t necessary. Sometimes, the silence, the shared breath, the trembling voice, said everything that needed to be said.

And in that moment, you both knew.

“I know.” he whispered, his voice raw with need. “I’ve thought about it too. More than I should.”

Your heart raced, a flush spreading over your skin as the heat of his words washed over you. “Maybe… maybe we could just see each other.” you suggested tentatively. “Just… just to talk. Nothing more.”

He hesitated, and you could feel the conflict in his silence. But then he spoke, his voice thick with longing. “Just to talk, like back then....” he agreed. “But… if it becomes too much…”

“I’ll leave.” you promised. “I don’t want to make things harder for you. I just… I just need to see you.”

He sighed, a sound of both relief and resignation. “Okay……” he said softly. “Come to the church tomorrow. After the evening service. We can… we can talk.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, your heart racing with anticipation, with fear, with desire.

“Okay.” you whispered. “Tomorrow.”

When the call ended, you felt a strange mix of emotions — excitement, anxiety, a deep, pulsing need that you couldn’t ignore. You told yourself it would just be a conversation, just a chance to clear the air, to find some semblance of peace in this storm. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing between you and Geto Suguru had ever been simple.

And as you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you wondered what tomorrow would bring, and whether you’d have the strength to resist the pull that had only grown stronger with every moment you spent apart.

══════════════════

YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT WHAT TO DO. The next evening arrived like a cold weight pressing on your chest. You stood outside the church, your clothes soaked through as the rain beat down relentlessly, its bitter chill sinking into your bones.

Each gust of wind cut through you, but the storm raging around you was nothing compared to the turmoil within. You had rehearsed what you might say over and over, yet as you stood before the old wooden doors, the words felt distant, unreachable.

With a shaky breath, you reached out, your hand trembling as it grasped the iron handle. The door creaked, groaning under the pressure of your push, the sound amplified by the hollow quiet inside.

Stepping across the threshold, you could hear the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor, each step amplifying the pounding of your heart, which beat in sync with the thunder rumbling outside.

The church was nearly empty, its vast interior engulfed in an eerie stillness. The last remnants of the evening service had long since faded, leaving only a few flickering candles scattered around the altar.

Their faint, wavering light sent shadows dancing across the old stone walls, casting strange shapes that seemed to twist and shift with every gust of wind that rattled the windows. The air smelled of damp wood, incense, and something ancient — a scent that seemed to settle deep in your lungs, grounding you in the moment yet unsettling you all the same.

You paused just inside the doorway, wiping the rain from your face, and took in the silence that surrounded you. Despite the stillness, the weight of the space pressed down on you, amplifying your anxiety. You weren’t sure if it was the setting or the reason for your presence that made your chest tighten, but every breath felt like an effort.

The soft hum of the storm outside was barely audible within the stone sanctuary, creating a strange sense of isolation. You found yourself both soothed and unnerved by the contrast — the chaos outside, the fragile calm inside.

And yet, even within this tranquility, there was a tension, a palpable sense of anticipation that settled in your gut. You were here for a reason, but now, standing in the dim light of the church, the reality of it felt heavier than you had imagined.

You walked slowly down the aisle, your footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling, each step measured, deliberate, as if delaying the inevitable. The pews were empty, save for a few scattered hymn books and prayer pamphlets left behind.

The rows stretched endlessly before you, and every flicker of the candles seemed to emphasize the emptiness, the vastness of the space, making you feel smaller with each passing second.

As you approached the altar, your breath hitched in your throat. This was the place where vows were made, promises were sealed, and lives were intertwined — for better or for worse. But you weren’t here for such formalities.

No, your visit was shrouded in uncertainty and the kind of unspoken tension that you had no idea how to resolve. The closer you got to the altar, the more the anticipation surged, twisting inside you.

You hesitated, standing just a few feet away from the altar steps. The candles flickered, casting long shadows that stretched toward you like fingers reaching from the past, urging you to move forward. But you remained still, heart pounding, breath shallow. The moment felt suspended, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

In the stillness, you wondered what awaited you — what words would be exchanged, what truths would be revealed. The anxiety gnawed at you, and yet, beneath it all, there was a strange undercurrent of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this night would bring clarity, an answer to the questions that had haunted you since the last time you were here.

And so you stood there, fighting the urge to turn back, knowing that what happened next could change everything.

You could hear Suguru’s voice in the distance, speaking quietly with one of the parishioners. You waited near the back, your hands clasped in front of you, trying to steady your breathing. When he finished, he turned and saw you, his expression softening in a way that made your chest ache.

"You're here." he said, walking over to you. His voice was low, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes — relief, maybe, or hesitation.

"I am." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I… I needed to see you."

He nodded, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering for just a moment too long. “Come with me.” he murmured, gesturing toward a small room off to the side. His office, you realized. The room where it all started.

You followed him, your footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. The air felt thick, heavy with unsaid words, with unspoken need. Once inside, he closed the door, and you both stood there for a moment, staring at each other, unsure where to begin. You could feel your heart pound at each step you took. Your breath hitches as you walk with him, many thoughts racing over and over in your head.

Suguru took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I’m glad you came." he said, breaking the silence. "But I… I don’t know if this is a good idea."

Your chest tightened at his words, a mixture of frustration and longing bubbling to the surface. “I don’t either.” you admitted, “but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t just… ignore this.”

He looked at you, his eyes darkening with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Do you think it’s easy for me?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Do you think I don’t feel it too? This… this pull?”

You took a step closer, feeling a spark of anger mixed with desire. “Then why are we fighting it, Suguru? Why are we pretending like this isn’t happening?”

He shook his head, his frustration evident. “Because I made a promise, you know that.” he snapped. “Because I dedicated my life to something bigger than myself, and I can’t just… I can’t just throw that away!”

You felt a surge of emotion, a frustration that had been building for weeks. “I’m not asking you to throw anything away!” you shot back, your voice louder than you intended. “But you can’t just… you can’t just pretend you don’t feel anything. That we don’t feel anything!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite name — anger, maybe, or desire. “I’ve spent years pretending, trying to bury these feelings,” he said, his voice low and raw. “But every time I see you… every time I hear your voice…”

He stepped closer, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes locked onto yours. “It tears me apart. And I don’t know…..” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve tried to stay away. God knows I’ve tried. But I… I can’t.”

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you thick and suffocating. “Then don’t.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t stay away. Don’t push me away…Please.”

His breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “This is madness.” he murmured, but his voice lacked conviction. “This… this is wrong.”

“Is it?” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest. “Is it really so wrong to want… to feel…?”

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. “I don’t know anymore.” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong when it comes to you.”

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. “Then stop thinking.” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just… just feel.”

For a moment, he froze, his breath catching in his throat. Then, something inside him seemed to snap. He surged forward, his hands cupping your face, his lips crashing against yours with a force that took your breath away.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, years of longing and frustration pouring out in a single, electrifying moment. You felt his hands tangle in your hair, his body pressing against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to taste him, to know that this was real.

Your back hit the wall, and he pressed against you, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could taste the salt of his tears on his lips. You were drowning in him, in the scent of him, in the feel of his body against yours, in the way his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss.

But then, as quickly as it began, he pulled away, gasping for breath, his hands still holding your face, his forehead resting against yours. “We… we can’t.” he panted, his voice broken, torn. “This… this isn’t right.”

You were both breathing hard, your chest heaving with the effort to calm the storm raging inside you. “I know,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I know it’s not. But… but I need you, Suguru. I need you so much.”

He closed his eyes, his hands trembling against your skin. “I need you too.” he confessed, his voice choking with emotion. “God help me, I need you too.”

And in that moment, as you stood there, pressed against the wall, your breaths mingling in the darkened room, you both knew that something had changed. A line had been crossed, a boundary shattered, and there was no going back.

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in a moment that was as intoxicating as it was forbidden. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel the weight of what was between you, to acknowledge the depth of your desire, the strength of your longing.

Suguru’s lips brushed against yours again, softer this time, more tentative, as if he was afraid to break the fragile moment. “What are we doing?” he whispered against your mouth.

You closed your eyes, feeling his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know.” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “But I don’t want to stop.”

He swallowed hard, his forehead still pressed against yours, his hands cradling your face as if he were afraid you might disappear. “Neither do I.” he confessed, his voice breaking. “Neither do I.”

His breath was ragged, his hands shaking as they cupped your face once more, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he were searching for something he had lost long ago.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into a blur, leaving only the two of you in this sacred, forbidden moment. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and he felt them against his skin, his own eyes closing tight as if he could hold back the storm of emotions threatening to consume him.

He kissed you again, harder this time, a low, shaky sigh escaping him as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him with a strength that bordered on desperation.

“Forgive me.” he murmured against your lips, the words barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. “God, forgive me…”

But even as he spoke, he knew there was no forgiveness for what he was about to do, no absolution in this moment of need and longing. He felt the weight of his vows, the promises he had made, the life he had chosen… and yet, when it came to you, every vow seemed like a distant memory, every promise a faint echo of a past life.

His hands moved to your shoulders, pressing you back against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, kissing every inch of skin he could reach as if he were worshiping at an altar.

“I’ve sinned so truly and endlessly for all these years.” he whispered, his voice raw, broken. “I’ve sinned, loving you… wanting you… needing you…”

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, needing to know this was real. His lips moved lower, tracing the line of your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’ve always been my god.” he confessed, his voice a breathless prayer. “And I… your most devoted follower…”

He sank to his knees, his hands sliding down your sides, his lips brushing against the fabric of your dress. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his expression a mixture of longing and torment.

“I can’t stop.” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I won’t stop…”

His fingers hooked into the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly, reverently, his lips pressing kisses to the exposed skin of your thighs. You shivered, your breath catching in your throat as he continued, his hands trembling against your skin.

“I’ll sin for you… over and over.” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your hip. “Because I can’t let you go…”

He kissed lower, his mouth trailing down the inside of your thigh, his breath warm against your skin. He paused for a moment, his hands gripping your thighs, his forehead pressing against your belly as if he were fighting some inner battle. And then, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he kissed you again, his lips finding the center of your desire, soft and demanding all at once.

You moaned, your head falling back against the wall, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue flicked against you, tasting you, savoring you like the sweetest sin.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer as his tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, each stroke a prayer, each touch a confession.

He kissed you there, over and over, his mouth moving against you with a fervor that was almost holy in its intensity. He could feel your body trembling beneath his hands, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he worshiped you with every ounce of devotion he possessed. His tongue swirled around your clit, teasing, tasting, the heat of his breath mingling with the heat of your skin.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you steady, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue moving faster, hungrier, seeking to draw out every cry, every moan, every shudder of pleasure. His own breath came in ragged bursts, his heart pounding in his chest, his body trembling with the force of his own desire.

He couldn’t stop — didn’t want to stop. You were his sanctuary, his salvation, and in this moment, he was lost in you, lost in the heat of your skin, the taste of your desire, the sound of your breathless gasps. He moaned against you, the sound filled with need, with longing, with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on as he continued, his lips and tongue moving against you with a fervor that was almost frantic. He felt your body tense, heard the soft, breathless moans that escaped your lips, and he knew you were close. Suguru wanted to push you over the edge, wanted to hear you cry out his name, wanted to feel you shatter against his lips.

And so, he continued, his tongue flicking faster, his lips pressing harder, his hands gripping your thighs as if he could anchor himself to you, as if he could hold you here, with him, in this perfect, sinful moment forever.

You cried out, your body arching against the wall, your hands tightening in his hair as you came, a soft, breathless moan escaping your lips. He groaned against you, his tongue never stopping, his lips moving against you with a fervor that was almost holy, almost desperate, as if he were afraid to let you go, afraid to let the moment end.

And in that moment, he knew — he knew he would never be able to stop sinning for you. He would never be able to walk away, to forget the taste of you, the feel of you, the sound of your voice crying out his name. He was yours, body and soul, for better or for worse, for all eternity.

He pulled back, his breath ragged, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and filled with a longing so deep it nearly broke your heart. He looked up at you, his hands still gripping your thighs, his expression a mixture of awe and torment.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, as if every word took effort to push past the weight of his desire. "I can't... I can't stop this." he confessed, his forehead resting against your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, pulling you closer as if anchoring himself to you, needing the connection as much as the air in his lungs.

You tangled your fingers in his hair again, your pulse still racing, the aftermath of the moment leaving your body humming with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. You could feel the tension in him, the battle between what he wanted and what he knew was dangerous, and yet you both understood — there was no turning back. Not now.

Slowly, you tilted his chin up, guiding his gaze back to yours. His eyes, still dark with desire, searched yours, and you could see the fear in them — fear of the depth of this thing between you, fear of how much it already consumed him. But beneath that, there was something more. Something tender, vulnerable, almost fragile.

"I don't want you to stop." you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "I don't want this to end.”

Suguru's eyes softened for a moment, then clouded with guilt. His hands trembled as they cupped your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. "I'm sorry." he murmured, his voice breaking with regret. "I'm so sorry… I led you to sin. This desire—my desire—it’s wrong, I’ve tainted you. I should have never let it go this far."

You shook your head, heart pounding, and leaned into his touch. "No." you whispered fiercely. "You didn't lead me anywhere I didn't want to go. I chose this. I chose you. If we're sinners, then I'll carry that sin with you. Together."

Without hesitation, you captured his lips in a kiss that was hard, desperate, and messy, like you were trying to devour him, to merge with him completely. And Suguru, filled with equal need, responded with the same raw intensity. His hands roamed your body, hungry, claiming, as if trying to make sure this moment, this choice, could never be undone.

In one swift motion, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the confession box. The small, sacred space that had once held secrets and forgiveness was now your altar of passion. You both fumbled with your clothes, hands frantic, lips still locked in that feverish kiss. When the last piece of fabric fell to the floor, he broke away just long enough to whisper.

"You are my god. I was never meant to devote worship to anyone else."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and the intensity of his devotion left you breathless. When he finally entered you, filling you completely, your body arched, as if instinctively trying to get closer, deeper, into the space where the boundaries of pleasure and need blurred into something beyond comprehension.

The moan that escaped your lips was loud, unrestrained, ripped from your throat like a prayer answered after too long in the desert. And as if answering your plea, Suguru thrust harder, deeper, his breath ragged, his skin slick with sweat as the storm outside raged in perfect synchrony with the chaos inside you both.

Thunder cracked, the air vibrating with the sound, but neither of you cared. It was the storm that gave you permission to be loud, to scream, to lose yourselves in this forbidden act. The rain pounded against the windows, a constant drumbeat to the rhythm of his body pressing into yours, over and over, until your mind was lost in a haze of pleasure so blinding you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began.

You came, hard and fast, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His pace grew more desperate, each thrust pushing deeper, more insistent, like a prayer that had to be spoken aloud, no matter the cost. His worship of you was not gentle; it was fierce, almost frenzied, as if the very act of being inside you was the only way he could breathe.

"Suguru." you gasped, barely able to speak, your voice broken and breathless. But the sound of his name on your lips seemed to spur him on. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you impossibly closer, his movements becoming rougher, more urgent. Every thrust pushed you higher, every stroke making your body shake, your legs trembling as you gave into the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm you.

He was relentless, his need for you all-consuming, driven by something more than mere desire. It was devotion, pure and raw, a longing that had been pent up for far too long. His words from earlier echoed in your mind — You are my god — and you could feel the truth of it now, in every touch, every movement, as he gave himself to you completely.

You whimpered as your body responded to him again, another wave of pleasure building as he moved deeper inside you, filling every part of you until there was nothing left but him. The tension between your bodies, the heat, the raw, primal hunger, grew too much to bear. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body clinging to him, needing him, wanting him, as he pushed you closer to the edge again.

The storm raged outside, lightning flashing, illuminating the room in brief moments of stark white, and in those flashes, you could see the look on his face — dark, intense, a man consumed by his love for you, by the act of giving himself over entirely, as if nothing else mattered in this world.

And maybe it didn’t.

"Suguru..." you moaned, feeling yourself break once more as your body surrendered to him completely, trembling violently against his as he continued to claim you, over and over, as if this moment would never end.

Suguru’s pace never faltered, his body pressed relentlessly against yours, each thrust deeper than the last. His eyes were half-lidded with a raw, burning need, his hands never loosening their grip on your trembling body.

Even as your voice broke into breathless cries, your hands clutched desperately at him, grounding yourself in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through you. He was utterly lost in you, consumed by the devotion he had promised — his worship of you unending, fervent, and wild.

Your body ached with the pleasure of it, shaking beneath him as he continued even after you had come. He was relentless, his hips driving against yours in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine, each movement feeding the fire that burned between you. You felt overwhelmed, consumed, your body unable to keep up with the intensity of his desire, but you didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Suguru……” you whimpered again, your voice cracking, barely able to speak as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. “Please…”

But whether you were begging for more or for a moment’s reprieve, even you didn’t know. He responded with a low, guttural moan, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. His eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he murmured in a voice thick with lust.

“I need you… I need you more than anything. You’re everything.”

Your heart pounded, his words igniting something deep within you as your body gave in completely, surrendering to him as if you were both caught in the grip of something sacred and sinful all at once. He pushed deeper, each thrust taking you to the edge of what your body could handle, the pleasure blending with a delicious ache that left you trembling against him.

The thunder outside roared, masking your moans as his worship grew more fervent, his devotion unrelenting. Your body shook beneath him, every nerve alight as he claimed you over and over. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours as he took you higher, his pace unbroken, his rhythm fierce and untamed.

Lightning flashed again, casting the room in harsh light, illuminating the way his muscles strained as he drove into you, his face twisted in both agony and ecstasy. His voice, hoarse and filled with desperate reverence, reached you between the booming thunder.

“You’re mine… only mine.”

The words broke something in you, your body shaking as the pleasure surged through you once again, your cries swallowed by the storm. You clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body collapsing into his as the intensity of it all took you to the brink of delirium.

Suguru wasn’t far behind. His movements grew frantic, his body trembling with the effort of holding back as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a low, primal groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his release washing over him as he collapsed into you, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in a haze of exhaustion and bliss, the sound of the storm outside slowly fading into the background. His breath was heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered.

“I’m never letting you go.”

And as you lay there, wrapped in each other, you knew the truth of it — this was something neither of you could escape. Not the sin, not the pleasure, not the way you were both hopelessly bound to one another. For better or worse, you were his, and he was yours. Bound in sin, bound in love, bound in something far more powerful than either of you could understand.

══════════════════

epilogue

The car hummed softly beneath you as you drove, the highway stretching out ahead, quiet and serene in the early morning light. Your daughter sat in the passenger seat, her backpack nestled between her feet, her gaze fixed out the window as the city gave way to the open road leading toward the airport. The silence between you was comfortable, but there was an unspoken tension — the weight of goodbye looming just ahead.

You glanced over at her, your heart swelling with pride and a little bit of that inevitable ache that comes with watching your child leave. She had grown so much, blossomed into a young woman full of ambition and dreams. College was her next chapter, and you were ready to let her go, even if the thought tugged at your heart.

As if sensing your thoughts, she turned to you, her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you gonna be alright, Mom?" Her voice was soft, careful, as if she was more worried about you than her own big journey ahead.

You smiled at her, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm going to be fine." You paused, your smile growing a little softer. "I have Suguru."

She smiled back, a knowing look in her eyes. She had grown up with Suguru around, seeing the way you two fit together. Over time, she understood the depth of your bond, even if she didn’t know the whole story.

"I’m glad." she said quietly. "He’s good for you."

You nodded, your chest tightening a bit as the airport came into view. "He is. And I’m going to miss you. But you know you can come back anytime, right? This is always your home."

She smiled, though it was tinged with the same bittersweet feeling you carried. "I know, Mom. I’ll come back as soon as I can."

After pulling up to the drop-off zone, you hugged her tightly, savoring the warmth of her embrace. "I’m so proud of you." you whispered, holding her just a little longer than usual.

"I love you, Mom." she murmured back before pulling away, her eyes a little misty. She gave you one last smile before grabbing her bag and disappearing through the airport doors.

For a moment, you sat there, watching the entrance as people hurried by, the world continuing on as always. You felt the pang of her absence already, but you knew that she was ready for this new adventure. And so were you.

With a deep breath, you turned the car around and headed back toward town, a quiet excitement building in your chest. Suguru was waiting for you. As you neared the church, the sight of it stirred something in you. It was the place where so much had started, where your life had taken a turn you could never have predicted.

Suguru had officially left the priesthood some time ago, and now, he was finishing the last bit of paperwork to close that chapter of his life. His decision had been made with a clear heart, for both of you and for the daughters he had taken in, Mimiko and Nanako. The three of them had already moved the rest of their things to a house just outside of town, the place where you would begin your new life together.

As you pulled into the small parking lot of the church, you spotted him standing near the entrance, his dark hair tied back, his expression calm but focused as he signed the last of the documents. He looked up when you parked, his lips curving into a soft smile as you approached.

"All set?" you asked as you reached him, your fingers brushing his in a quiet greeting.

He nodded, setting the paperwork aside. "It’s done. Everything’s in order." His smile widened, that familiar warmth in his gaze. "I’m free."

You exhaled softly, the weight of his words filling the space between you. He had left the priesthood not for the sake of running away from something, but for the chance to fully embrace the life he wanted — the life he wanted with you.

"So," you asked with a playful tilt of your head, "where to next?"

Suguru smiled, reaching out to take your hand in his, his touch grounding and steady, as it had always been. "I want to devote the rest of my life to you," he said simply, his voice gentle yet filled with unwavering certainty.

Your heart swelled at his words, a rush of warmth flooding through you. He had always been devoted, but now it was different. Now, there were no barriers, no walls between you. It was just the two of you, ready to build something beautiful together.

You smiled, stepping closer and resting your head against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt like home. "Then let’s go, hm?" you whispered. "Let’s start the rest of our lives."

And as you drove away from the church together, toward the house that would soon become your shared home, the future felt wide open — a new chapter, a new beginning. You had Suguru. You had love. And for the first time, you felt entirely free.

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meanbossart · 2 months ago

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Hi! I'm almost certain you've answered asks regarding Drow being a companion love interest before, but I'm not sure if my question was specifically discussed. If so, I apologize!

Say I wanted the smelly, gore lusting man (God the things I'd do), what would the player find themselves needing to do to gain that relationship with him?

HMM good question, lets see!

Generally speaking, to gain approval you would have to:

Show ruthlessness during dialogue and interactions (succeed intimidation checks or jump straight into combat)

Be kind towards animals, and honest/patient with children (He will be neutral if you just coddle them)

Oppose the absolute and antagonize mindflayers, gith, and drow.

Be nice to Shadowheart.

Pick a lot of the joke/playfully mean dialogue options.

Be a little hard-to-get in romance interactions until act 3.

Responding to his advances with more mellow, romantic dialogue will earn you more points than overt sexuality (In some cases, the latter may even get you disapproval).

Make him laugh.

To trigger his romance, you have to have good approval and sleep with him once. Following that, pressuring him to sleep with you again or shaming him for not putting your life in danger by trying will earn you disapproval, and an eventual break-up if you continue to insist. He enjoys being wooed, but not chased, and dislikes when you misunderstand his visceral attempts to emotionally reach out as sexual propositions; he will play along either way, but it will put him on a Bhaalist path.

Some quest choices that will get you on his good side:

ACT 1 -

He's indifferent if Arabella dies, but you gain approval if you save her.

Let him take on the Loviatar Priest when he requests it.

Don't get the Absolute's mark from Priestess gut.

Save Mayrina, but then either break or keep the wand.

Let Astarion kill Gandrel.

Help Karlach.

Either let Shadowheart kill Lae'zel, or stop the fight.

Don't kill the owlbear mother or cub.

Send Barcus flying (He doubles over laughing)

Kill Minthara.

Side with the mercenaries at Grymforge.

Kill the gith student refusing to fight.

Refuse to give the inquisitor the artefact.

ACT 2 -

Help Arabella find her parents.

Don't release the pixie from the moonlantern.

Help Mol cheat against Raphael.

Let him massacre the goblins at Moonrise Towers.

Get the Thorm bosses AND yurgir to kill themselves instead of fighting any of them (again: You are rewarded with him laughing his ass off about it)

Don't comply with Araj.

If you save Zevlor at the mindflayer colony, shame him for giving into the Absolute's call.

Antagonize the emperor after his reveal and refuse the astral tadpole.

ACT 3 -

Help Yenna with either gold or food, but don't invite her to your camp.

Kill Arfur once you find out about the explosive toys.

Forge an alliance with Gortash.

Win the Laff riot contest.

Don't surrender Dame Aylin to Lorroakan.

Don't sign the contract, but agree to get the Orphic hammer through other means later. (Anything to not rely on the Emperor anymore)

If she hasn't become a Dark Justiciar, don't surrender Shadowheart to Viconia (He will fight the party unless you leave him at camp and succeed a deception check later). He doesn't care what you do if she's a DJ.

Vanra's quest can get you either approval or disapproval at different points. He approves of you agreeing to help her, then also approves of you killing her for the money, but he disapproves of you letting the child die or of siding with Ethel.

Agree to the Avenge The Drowned quest (He just thinks they're hot)

Don't let Astarion Ascend, or kill him if he does.

Kill Sarevok.

Let him take on Orin by himself.

Don't turn into a mindflayer (he will break up with you later), nor let Karlach do it.

If he's become a chosen of Bhaal, let him control the Absolute.

#companion du drow #ask #bg3 spoilers

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capseycartwright · 2 months ago

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oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he?

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

ao3 link

t’s been a long time since Eddie Diaz had set foot in a church – of his own accord, at least. He’d been to the christenings and communions and confirmations of all of his various nieces, nephews, and cousins, he’d sat stiff in the pew as he’d watched friends, and family get married, trying his best not to remember how own wedding day, the way Shannon’s hands had shaken in his grip as they promised to love each other until death do them part, both of them young, too young to understand the covenant they were signing up to. Eddie had been there, for all those occasions, but he hadn’t gone to mass, or even sat in a church, just because he wanted to in a very long time.

He wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to be there today, but it was a Thursday, and Christopher was in Texas, and Eddie wasn’t working, and he’d been having an extended mental breakdown for the last few weeks, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the pew of St Brendan’s Catholic Church, listening to a softly spoken priest with an Irish lilt to his accent – faded, after years in America, Eddie presumed, but still there, noticeable in the inflection of certain words – recite the Our Father.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but it felt like every other church he’d been to in his life. They didn’t all look the same, necessarily, though they followed the same format, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews and an altar decorated in gold, as opulent as it was suffocating. Eddie had thought it beautiful, before, the way Catholic churches were decorated in gold and jewels, believing for so much of his life that the wealth honoured God – but living life had made him learn the grandeur and displays of wealth were nothing more than indicative of the wealth the Catholic church had hoarded while their devout followers starved, all in the name of faith and of God. True faith didn’t need to be gilded in gold to be sincere, he’d decided.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but mass was the same. It didn’t change – though the wording of some of the prayers did. He’d sort of been checked out of being a regular churchgoer by time they had changed some of the prayers, only discovering the difference when he confidently started to recite it wrong at his youngest niece’s communion, his mother fixing him with a glare so icy hell might have frozen over under the power of Helena Diaz’s gaze alone. He’d never learned the new ones, not really, and so Eddie just recited the one’s he’d learned for his own confirmation, the words falling from his lips, muscle memory more than it was faith now.

Our father, who art in heaven – hallowed be thy name .

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, a little, as he murmured the prayer. Hallowed be thy name. He knew the prayer talked about God, their holy father, but the prayer had always made him think of his own father, of the way Ramon Diaz was a hallowed man in his own right, how he parented with an iron fist and expected to be obeyed.

Things were getting better now, with his dad. Maybe – maybe that was part of the fear. Eddie had always been afraid of letting people down, but more than anyone, he was afraid of letting his father down – of seeing that look of disappointment set into every crease of his father’s face, an expression he’d been on the receiving end of for more of his childhood than he’d like to admit. Eddie had tried so hard to make sure he was never on the receiving end of that look again, but nothing he had ever done was good enough – not marrying Shannon, not the way he had tried to take responsibility for his young family, not the army, not the man he had been when he’d come home from Afghanistan.

Distance had lessened the number of disappointed looks, but Eddie knew that was because he was simply not seeing them anymore; he was sure his father sometimes frowned at the phone when they’d finally call, silted conversation about Christopher and life at the firehouse the best either of them could muster.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better.

At least it had been, until his parents had taken Christopher with them to Texas. It hadn’t helped their relationship – but it hadn’t hindered it as much as Eddie had expected either. He was never going to thank them, for the way they had swooped in, ready to take Christopher at a moment’s notice, but he could thank them for giving his son the space that he needed to process. Eddie couldn’t give him that space, right now, but he was grateful someone could. Still – he would be ready to drive to Texas at the drop of a hat when Christopher decided he was ready to come home.

Things were getting better, that was the thing. His dad called, every night, to update Eddie on Christopher’s day. Eddie could hear the familiar sounds of the Diaz backyard as his dad softly spoke, telling Eddie about how Christopher had been to the lake, with his cousins, and how he’d finished another book, and how he was helping Helena to make dinner, right then. It had filled the gap until Christopher had started to call Eddie himself, his voice tinny as he mumbled over the phone, things not quite back to normal, Christopher not willing to talk to him about anything except Marvel and Minecraft and how abuela’s tamales were better than Eddie’s, but better than they were, at least.

Every time they were on the phone, Eddie reassured his parents that he was working on himself. He was back seeing Frank, every week, and at Frank’s encouragement, he’d joined a veteran’s support group. Eddie wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect military veteran he assumed he needed to be, to join a veteran support group, but the rag-tag group that met at his community hall every month weren’t exactly the flag-wearing, gun-toting veterans he’d expected them to be. James was a 63-year-old man from Massachusetts who ran the group – he had moved out to LA to live with his daughter after he retired and referred to himself delightedly as a stay-at-home grandfather. Luisa was a vet around Eddie’s own age, and she’d gone back to university after she got out of the army and got a fine arts degree. She liked to paint, and talked about her wife with a reverence and openness that Eddie could only admire.

He hadn’t said a word the first time he went, and Buck had sat in the Jeep in the carpark, a ready-made escape plan for Eddie in case he decided it was all too much. Eddie had sat quietly as the group had chatted, drinking tea and coffee out of flimsy paper cups, and eating homemade biscuits – made by James, who, as it turned out, was quite the prolific baker – and he’d watched. He’d watched as the group had talked about their bad days, and their good days, and how they were coping with life after the military, and not a single glorious war-story was exchanged.

That was when Eddie knew it was safe to keep going. He was never going to be a man who was proud of his service, and he didn’t want to have to attend a support group of people who’d talk about their time in the military like it was the good old days. He had spoken a little more, the second time he went – Buck doing his groceries, two streets away, rather than sitting in the carpark – and he’d introduced himself, his voice gruff as he tried to figure out what version of Eddie he wanted to present to the world.

Eddie was still figuring that part out – the version of himself he wanted to be, that is.

He was figuring himself out. That was the point. He was trying, he was really trying – and people could see that, Eddie was sure. His parents said they could, at least.

Which was why he was here – in a church not dissimilar to the one he’d attended every Sunday in El Paso growing up – on his knees, praying to a God he wasn’t sure he actually believed in for guidance.

read the rest on ao3

#911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #writing this was both hashtag healing #and the fic equivalent of ripping my own heart out with a rusty spoon #so you know. enjoy

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epicbuddieficrecs · 2 months ago

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Weekly Recap | September 9th-15th 2024

10 days until season 8!!! 👀

I'm gonna try and put together a rec of my favourite post-S6 and 7 fics before S8 starts!

If you know anyone who isn't tagged, please let me know and/or tag them in the comments!

Complete

everything comes out teenage by Wildehack (tyleet)/ @wildehacked (First Date | 1K | Mature): “Hey,” Buck says carefully, remembering how he felt when it was his turn on Eddie’s side of the table. “You doing okay over there?”

Loving You is Easy by actualalligator/ @actualalligator (Post-S7 Spec, Getting Together | 1K | General): Nothing good happens after 9:30, Abuela always said. Sometimes good things do happen after 9:30. Sometimes they're important too.

how to slay a dragon by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S7 Spec, Getting Together | 2K | General): Buck didn't know what to expect when he walked into the Han house. He definitely hadn’t expected to see Eddie sitting on the floor with Jee in front of him carefully french braiding her hair. He also hadn’t expected Eddie to be wearing a pink sparkly tiara. He definitely hadn’t expected Eddie to smile up at Buck when he saw him with soft eyes, eyes that didn’t feel like looking into an ocean of sadness, and carefully tie the end of one of the braids he was working on with a little bow. If Buck had ovaries he was pretty sure they would be exploding.

Here's the Punchline... by misterbabygirl (Getting Together, Post-S4 | 2K | Teen): OR: The 118 find out about the will and start a running joke about Eddie being careful otherwise Buck would end up as a single parent. Eddie tries to make the same joke.

be someone by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Post-S7, Pre-Buddie | 2K | Teen): A call leaves Buck wondering if he’ll ever be a parent. Not just a donor, a dad. A great dad. Chimney tries to convince him of his qualities – and Eddie has a hard time staying quiet. or: eddie thinks buck already is someone to chris

encounters closer and closer by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Outsider POV, Media Fic | 2,5K | Teen): OR: a group of friends asks the question what's the deal with buckley and diaz?

the clarification of equilibrium by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Post-S7 Spec, Jealous Eddie, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “He leaned?” “Exactly. You know,” Eddie waves a hand. “Leaning.” Buck blinks. He knows he isn’t that drunk, but it honestly feels like he is. “You keep saying that word. I don’t think it means what-” “Leaning, Buck!” Eddie is clearly frustrated that Buck isn’t getting what he’s trying to say, but for two people who are usually on the same wavelength, who are often (lovingly) mocked for their ability to communicate without saying a word, Buck is hopelessly lost as far as this conversation goes. * ... or, the one where Eddie gets jealous about a conversation, and attempts to explain how body positioning works.

every dead-end street led you straight to me by ameliahart (Post-S7 Spec | 5K | Teen): Or, five times one of their exes mistakenly assumed Eddie was Buck's new boyfriend, and one time the ex was right.

i don't believe in god, but i believe that you're my savior by justhockey (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 6K | Teen): The first thing that happens is a Catholic church in the too-hot Texan heat; Eddie’s hands are damp with sweat and he wipes his palms across his best trousers. His Abuelo smacks the back of his hand to get him to stop and Eddie balls them into tiny fists, slips them beneath his thighs so he isn’t tempted to fidget. So he listens. Listens to the priest, and his droning, and his fire and brimstone, burning-in-hell, shameshameshame talk. The first thing that happens is Eddie is born. Born wrong, born twisted, born sinning. He spends the rest of his life trying to make up for it.

I'll Be Your Safe Haven by eightpackdiaz (Safe Haven Baby Box, Alternate Canon | 6K | Teen): A Safe Haven Baby Box is installed at the Station 118 firehouse. Buck's really good with the surrendered babies.

doesn't take a scientist to understand what's going on by Chash / @ponyregrets (Post-S7 Spec, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Eddie is already struggling with having realized he has a thing for Buck and trying to figure out what to do about said thing when Buck finds out he needs glasses. Which means that Eddie also finds out he's really into Buck in glasses. He would prefer to not know this.

🔥 One Hundred Miles an Hour In My Head by Chash/ @ponyregrets (Post-S7 Spec, Jealous Buck | 8K | Teen): Buck sort of assumed that, at some point, he'd evolve out of being needy and insecure. And, to be fair, in some ways, he probably has. He feels a lot more confident existing in the world than he did when he was a kid. He's sure he has the right job, and he mostly thinks that if he got hurt badly enough that he couldn't be a firefighter anymore, he'd figure out another thing to do and another way to help people instead of spiraling like he did after his leg got crushed. He knows who he is, and he knows that he's valued for it. Sometimes, he even thinks stuff might someday be good with his parents. And then there's Eddie.

karma is a cat (purring in my lap) by cuddlyobrien (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 8K | Teen): Eddie finds a kitten, realizes he’s gay, falls in love with Buck and apologizes to Chris. Not in that order but kind of?

all of the girls you loved before by Wildehack (tyleet)/ @wildehacked (Post-S7, Getting Together | 9K | Explicit): Buck finishes the math on his fingers, and holds up one spread-wide hand. “Uh,” he says. “I mean, I’ve got a top five?” Everyone groans. - Buck's top five sexual experiences, plus one mediocre handjob.

Please (I've Been On My Knees) by Bookworm0303/ @insertlovelyperson (Canon, S2-S7, Post S7 Spec | 10K | Teen): The five times Buck and Eddie confide in one another about their failed relationships, and the one time they don’t have to.

Clammed Up by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Murder/Mystery | 11K | Teen): Captain Gerrard dies suspiciously at a murder mystery party held at Tommy Kinard's condo, with most of the 118 present. As the case unfolds, Athena finds she no longer knows who among her friends she can trust.

🔥 Next Best by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (A/B/O AU | 20K | Explicit): Eddie had been very clear that they needed to keep their relationship stuff off the job. That meant no make-outs, no groping of asses, and no sexy stuff. Buck was fine with that. (Part 2 of Second Best Series)

🔥 fuck it if i can't have us (series) by Wildehack (tyleet)/ @wildehacked (Post-S7 Spec | 2/? | 35K | Explicit)

i love you but i need another year (Post-S7, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 14K | Explicit): If Eddie were still a practicing Catholic, this is the kind of shit he’d go to confession about. — Eddie watches porn, experiences revelation, replies to a lot of text messages. down bad, crying at the gym (Post S7, BuckTommy Break-Up | 21K | Explicit): On Tuesday Buck tells Tommy he loves him. On Thursday he’s giving his best friend a ride to the airport, and they’re pulling up to LAX, and Eddie says “I love you.” — Buck cooks a lot of food, thinks about love, takes pictures of local wildlife.

WIP

how come everybody's dancing but you? by showedupatyourparty (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 1/4 | 7K | Mature): Buck feels guilty. Everyone he loves is going through something painful, difficult, or unexpected right now. And Buck is just…bisexual. It’s great that he’s figured it out, and it’s great that everyone has been so supportive, and Tommy is—Tommy is fine. The sex is good, at least. Consistent. When Buck gets a call from Eddie’s phone late on a Tuesday night in June, it’s cause for concern. * Buck unpacks his own feelings about his recently-discovered bisexuality. Eddie gets adopted by drag queens. They're both just trying their best to be happy.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 10/? | 18K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic

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macdenlover · 4 months ago

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frank has been handling most of mac and dennis’s taxes and finances and shit for years and a while back he came to the realization that it would save him a good amount of time and money if those two just had a joint account. so he casually slipped them a couple of documents to sign one day and so for the past few years mac and dennis have been legally married with no idea whatsoever.

the thing is when they do find out dennis is all pissed off that frank kept it a secret from them more than he’s pissed off about being married to mac. and mac is all pissed off that the sanctity of marriage was ruined because they never even had a wedding. and dennis is like wait That’s what you’re mad about? and mac is all like yeah! i always thought that when i’d get married one day there would be a whole wedding in a big ass church and they’d be playing bon jovi on the organ and god would be watching. and then dennis starts getting a tension headache and it escalates into a heated debate/yelling match about weddings.

and frank is like woah woah woah woah alright listen best i can do is a cake and some streamers and we’ll clean cricket up a little and he can be your priest is that good is that gonna get you two off my back about this? and the truth is they both suddenly got really excited about the idea of a wedding so they’re like… yeah okay fine whatever.

AND THEN

they’re like fuck okay we gotta speedrun this whole thing starting with batchelor parties. mac drags charlie along with him and dennis drags dee to his. mac is all like i want today to be full of beefcakes i wanna have one last big gay hoorah without having to think about dennis at all and then spends the entire day talking about dennis anyway and charlie is on the verge of blowing his brains out. meanwhile dennis spends all day trying to justify marrying mac to dee as a logical and financial thing and how he’s definitely not in love with him or anything like yes he’s his best friend and yes they share a level of intimacy that they could never have with anyone else and yes sometimes it’s sexual but it’s not Romantic and dee is also on the brink of blowing her brains out all day.

eventually it starts getting competitive and both of them desperately wanna out-do the other’s bachelor party and things get a little too intense (cops, crack, hookers, knives, the mcpoyles, you name it) and they all wind up back at the bar at the end of the night drunk and high out of their minds and just happy to see each other.

they get married hungover in paddys the next day

#fics im probably never gonna write #it would be a good fic though just use ur imagination

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whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

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tempt;

"I left a calling card so they would know that it was me."

☆ EVENTS ☆

'tis the damn season (closed)

you can meet me at the hotel; (closed) [kinkotober masterlist]

put your life out on the line" (closed)

got the wine for you; (closed) [false god (masterlist)]

maybe it's a blessing in disguise; (closed)

music got you lost; (open) [masterlist]

✧ ONE-SHOTS ✧

Peppers Sirius Black X Reader. Fuck buddies to lovers. Modern AU!. 18+ content

Delicate Sirius Black X Reader. Friends to lovers. TW- Self harm, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Night We Met Sirius Black X Reader Set During Order of The Phoenix. Mention of major character death(s).

New Year's Day Sirius Black X Reader Set during Order of The Phoenix. Fluff and low humor.

Cardigan; Sirius Black X Reader. Hurt/Comfort.

Sure Thing; Sirius Black X Shy!Reader Fluff.

Oh Children; Sirius Black X Reader Angst.

Million Dollar Man; Sirius Black x Camgirl!reader 18+ content, drinking.

Daylight Flowerist!Sirius Black X Barista!reader Fluff.

Consume; Dark!Sirius Black X Muggle!reader. 18+ content, cemeteries, dark themes.

Born to die Cult!leader Sirius Black X Reader. Mentions of murder, gore, dark themes.

Afterglow; Felix Catton x Reader Hurt/Comfort.

Dancing with our hands tied; Sirius Black X Reader. Hurt/Comfort, injuries, blood. (potential part two)

Maneater; Neighbor!James Potter X Reader 18+ content, stalker behavior, darkish themes.

She just hit my heart; James Potter X Reader Fluff.

Don't blame me; Priest!Remus Lupin X Reader Alludes to sex, dark themes.

Pick your poison, babe; Sirius Black X Reader Suggestive Content, fluff.

Try me; Ravi Singh X Reader Cigarettes, hurt/comfort.

ψ SERIES ψ

The Seven Lives; Please read chapter warnings on top of each chapter. Status- On going (PAUSED)

No Time To Die (Status - Completed)

The hurricane with my name on it. Please read chapter warnings on top of each chapter.

Love to think you'll never forget. Please read chapter warnings on top of each chapter.

⨴MOODBOARDS⨵

Poison Ivy From my fall event (close)

Heartbeat; From 'the seven lives' series.

§ ASKED AND ANSWERED §

Call It What You Want Sirius Black X Reader. Post Azkaban Sirius. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Touch sensitivity.

Indentation in the shape of you Sirius Black X Reader. Post Azkaban Sirius. Fluff, bad humor.

Now I'm Covered in You Sirius Black X Reader. Post Azkaban Sirius. 18+ Content. From my fall event (close)

Trying To Keep The Water Warm James Potter X Reader. Professor James AU! Fluff. From my fall event (close)

Dark Red James Potter X Reader Set during the Marauders era. 18+ content.

Womanizer Sirius Black x Reader Set During the Marauders era. Angst, 18+ content, drinking, hints at sexual assault.

Meddle About; West Coast; FDad!James Potter X Reader. 18+ content, mentions of alcohol, age gap.

Maroon Sirius Black X Reader ex to lovers, drinking, alludes to sexual assault, hurt/comfort.

The great war; Sirius Black X Reader ex to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort. Part two to Maroon.

Do I wanna know? Rockstar!Sirius Black X Reader. 18+ content.

Dusk till dawn Sirius Black X Lestrange!Reader Hurt/Comfort, dialogue heavy.

Smoke on my clothes; Rockstar!Sirius Black X Popstar!Reader Fluff, 18+ content, use of y/n.

Into You; Ron Weasley X Reader 18+ content, porn without plot.

Wherever I go; Remus Lupin X Reader. Making out, suggestive, fluff.

Blue Jeans; Professor!Harry Potter X Reader 18+ content.

Getaway car; Sirius Black X Desi!Reader 18+ content, sexual tension, substances.

I think he knows; Ron Weasley X Reader 18+ content, mentions of war, fluff.

Gorgeous; James Potter X Reader 18+ content.

House of balloons/glass table girls; Sirius Black X Reader 18+ content.

You're in love Policeman!James Potter X Baker!Reader Fluff.

Can't you see, you're meant for me? Bsf!Dad!James Potter X Reader Suggestive content, fluff.

I'm gonna make you my wife; Sirius Black X Reader Banter, fluff, silly teenagers in love, kinda shy reader, alcohol, 18+ content.

This place will burn you up; Sirius Black X Reader 18+ content.

❁ ODE TO FANFICTION ❁

Hall of morals;

I'm running back home to you;

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makethatelevenrings · 5 months ago

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Royalty AU - Simon Riley x f!reader

A/N: 9,335 words (20 pages) all in one sitting. I'm unwell. My mother became increasingly concerned as I didn't move from one spot. This is unedited. I'm sorry but I'm not.

Warnings: period(?) typical misogyny, allusions to sexual assault/rape (reader thinks she will be forced to perform her marital duties), illness, fever, violence, light smut so 18+, Simon being emotionally constipated, pregnancy (at the end)

This is part of my 5k Follower Celebration! Check it out to see if any prompts are still open to claim!

The first time you met your husband was your wedding day.

Crowds of people lined the dirt roads as the carriage lurched across the hills and valleys. Their faces peered carefully into the windows in an attempt to see past the velveteen curtains that obscured you from view. Your dress was a heavy combination of silk and a golden brocade that clung to your skin. The veils of your unmarried status hung around your face, giving the appearance that your face was something precious to behold.

Beside you, mother sat silently. Father was in the carriage ahead of you so he could escort you out once the time came. This was supposed to be a happy day, a blessed day, but all you could feel was dread as the wheels crept closer to the looming castle at the center of the village. Hushed whispers permeated the air and you couldn’t tell if the townspeople were looking at you in pity, anger, or disgust. Who were you? Some princess who was now going to be their queen despite never having stepped foot on their land.

You shut your eyes against the shame that burned at your cheeks. You didn’t open them until the carriage stopped.

“Let’s go,” Father said gruffly. He stood at the door of the carriage with his hand extended. Your mother exited first and then you did, only to be greeted by more hushed whispers and judgmental stares. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened your shoulders, raising your head to focus solely on the doors before you. One step. Two steps. You let the mantra guide you through the hall, past the people seated on the sides of the aisle, and to the raised dais before everyone and the gods.

Your betrothed stood on the opposite side of you. King Riley was as big as a mountain, a maid whispered to you as they dressed you that morning. His cruelty knew no bounds, another said. He killed without mercy on the battlefield. He was violent and vicious. No one had ever seen his face. He was incapable of loving anything but blood. His people were the same. Violent and rude, unrefined and uncivilized. Children left feral in the streets. Men and women who wrought vengeance for the smallest infractions. A kingdom ruled by fear and bloodlust.

When the rider came to the gates of your town with a treaty and alliance written out with the stipulation that the princess would marry King Simon Riley, you knew that you would have to accept. Your people were starving from the famine in your lands. Your parents had raised you for this.

Stepping onto the dais, your hand left your fathers and instead slipped into the larger, gloved palm of the king. Your head raised and you could see through the veils that he truly did wear a mask, something awful with a skull painted across the front of it. He couldn’t have gone without it for his wedding? You averted your gaze and instead focused on the priest. The words reverberated through your ears, but you hardly paid attention to the vows. You knew when to say the right words and how to say it.

And then the priest was announcing your marriage finalized and those gloved hands released yours to lift the edge of your veils. The lower half of his mask was raised to reveal his lips and the kiss was short, perfunctory, and colder than ice. Perhaps your maids were right, you thought to yourself. Fear gripped your heart for the rest of the night. Through the reception, the dances, and the dinner, you waited for this hulking mass of a man to take you to his bedchambers and force you to do your duty.

But he never did.

King Riley, your husband, merely sat back in his chair and watched the dancing couples on the floor. He occasionally spoke to the men seated beside him, but he never once glanced your way. When a maid approached you to take you to your new room, you glanced back at him, but he didn’t spare you a glance. She undressed you without saying a word, so unlike your friend and compatriot Lucy who had accompanied you but was probably packing the carriage for the return home. You would be all alone in this foreign place with no friends, no allies.

The maid left you in your thin nightgown and you sat in the big, empty bed and waited for your husband to come so you could perform your marriage duties.

The door lay untouched. As did you.

When the fire began to dim in its hearth and you realized that he wasn’t coming, you pressed your face into the soft, goose down pillow below your head, and wept, both in relief and out of despair. This was your life now.

The next morning, you awoke to someone gently touching your shoulder. Turning, you expected to see the same stone-faced maid from last night but was surprised to find Lucy standing over you.

“The king asked your father last night if he could retain me on his staff,” she explained. Hope filled your heart at the realization that you weren’t truly alone. One of your closest friends and allies would be here. She dressed you quickly as you picked at the tray of breakfast she had brought. As the bells chimed the arrival of seven in the morning, a knock sounded on your door. You settled yourself primly in a chair by the fire as Lucy went to answer.

“Your Majesty,” a knight greeted you as he stepped inside the room. He was tall, but not as tall as your husband, and his kind smile betrayed the intimidating broadsword that was strapped to his back. His hair was cropped short aside from a mohawk that split down the middle. All in all, he didn’t look like any of the stuffy, dignified knights of your parents' court.

“Good morning,” you greeted stiffly. His smile dimmed slightly and he inclined his head to you and then Lucy.

“My name is Sir John MacTavish, Your Majesty. I was sent to provide you both with a tour of the castle and the grounds.”

“Am I in any danger?” you asked. It was unusual that a knight would be sent to do a simple tour, but this whole court seemed entirely different from the way you were raised.

“No, my lady. It’s His Majesty’s version of a punishment, I’m afraid. He didn’t take too kindly to Sir Garrick and I stealing his sword for a day.” His crooked grin grew. “But if my punishment is to escort two beautiful women, then I fear I will find myself in more trouble.”

You exhaled a huff of laughter as Lucy’s cheeks flushed. This MacTavish was trouble, but he was the kindest person you had met so far in this country. Lucy grabbed a cloak for you and you thanked her for grabbing one without all the ornamentation that your mother insisted was fit for a queen. How on earth were you supposed to get your hands dirty if you were weighed down by jewels?

Sir MacTavish opted to show you the grounds first. The village bustled with activity and no one seemed to pay you any mind, which you preferred. Vendors stood at booths and bartered with tradesmen. Knights patrolled the edges of the market to keep an eye out for anyone with an intent to steal or deceive. Mothers with babies swaddled to their backs and chests carried laundry baskets on their hips. Men headed for the great doors implanted in the walls. They were open now, enabling the farmers, shepherds, and tradesmen to come and go.

Oh, it was delightful.

You were rarely allowed to step out into the village of your home because your mother insisted it was a dirty, loud, disease-filled place. Sure, it was full of voices and raucous laughter, and dirt and dust swirled into your hair and skirts, but it was full of people.

“Now, your main export is wheat, correct?” you asked over the din of the crowd. Sir MacTavish’s large stature and imposing sword made the crowds part, giving you a chance to examine the houses and buildings on either side of you. Lucy slipped her hand in yours in an attempt to stay close and not get swept up in the crowds.

“Aye,” he replied in his thick brogue. “How’d you know that?”

“When I first learned of the proposed alliance, I made an effort to learn about the country,” you admitted. “The orchards are your second greatest export, but I was told that you have to import medicinal herbs from other countries. Is the ground not suitable for those kinds of plants?”

He looked at you with something akin to surprise and then shrugged. “Alex, our main healer, has been trying to grow herbs for a while but they never last. He’s tried damn near everything. We try to stock up before the winter months when the fevers typically arise, but we’ve lost quite a few people to sickness.”

You pursed your lips in thought. “Your land should have the nutrients for the plants to survive. Their must be something else stunting them. Could you set up a meeting with the healer, if that’s allowed?”

The knight scoffed at your question and you felt, for a brief moment, that you overstepped. But he quickly dissuaded that thought. “You’re the Queen, m’lady. Of course that’s allowed.”

Hours later, MacTavish watched you talk with Alex, head bent over a book and finger pressed against the lines of text. Lucy stood next to him, rocking back and forth on her heels. You gestured to something outside and Alex lit up, your talking increasing in speed and volume.

“Is she always like that?” he asked the maid. Pride effused from her veins and she grinned brightly at him.

“Oh yes, she’s always been focused on caring for her people. The King and Queen…” Lucy faltered. “They were not as conscientious.”

When Soap first heard about the impending marriage, he thought Simon was off his rocker, well and truly. Price said it would strengthen their trade and provide protection from the west, but his king was the exact opposite of a touchy-feely love kind of person. But Soap also forgot that they were no longer a bunch of soldiers playing hero on the battlefield, but knights turned politicians. Gaz had nearly laughed himself out of the council chambers when Simon announced his intent to marry, especially to a princess of a small country. All they knew about you was from your parents. Your mother was a known court gossip and cared more about the latest dress trends than the status of her citizens. Your father was known for his callous nature and manipulation of his court.

All in all, they hadn’t heard good things about you.

Simon intended for it to be a purely political marriage. At some point, an heir would need to be produced, but Soap realized pretty quickly that Simon was betting on you producing some sort of bastard heir. Well, he thought to himself, Ghost’ll be surprised to hear about this.

That night, long after Lucy left you to sleep, you found yourself unable to fall into that state of semi-unconsciousness. The bed was too large, too empty for you. Sighing, you got up and pulled on a dressing gown over your thin nightdress and grabbed one of the candlesticks from the mantle. You used the dying light of the fireplace to ignite the wick and used the light to guide your steps out of the room and down the hall to where Sir MacTavish had shown you the library. This was your house too, now. Right?

Carefully, you eased open the doors and slipped into the library to find that a decent fire warmed the seating area. A maid must have left it going on accident and you made a mental note to smother it before you left.

Shelves full of books lined the room and you tentatively approached the closest one, lifting your candle higher to see the titles inscribed on the spines. It seemed like every book in the world filled this room. You wanted to know more about this country and its culture, economy, everything. Three shelves down, you hit a jackpot and started to acquire a small stack of books that you could carry back to your room.

Until something tugged at the edge of your gown.

A startled shriek escaped you and you looked down to find a little kitten playing with one of the tassels of your dressing gown. You laughed at your own foolishness and bent down to set the candlestick on the ground and offer your hand to the kitten. It chirped and butted its head against your palm.

“Well hello,” you cooed. “You’re just a baby, aren’t you? Where’s your mama?”

“They stay in the library to kill any rats that get in.”

This time, you nearly jumped out of your skin. You didn’t even hear another person approach and certainly not the huge man that stood before you. A gasp escaped you as you pulled your dressing gown closer around your body. You were fully aware of how improper this was. You were a married woman. You were the Queen. You could not be seen half-dressed in the library with a strange man.

His dark eyes tracked your movements and he turned to look at the books beside him. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, by all means, sneak up on a woman at night, all alone,” you huffed. You gave the kitten one more scritch under the chin and then gathered up the books and pressed them against your chest to hide yourself better. Your other hand scooped up the candlestick and you stood to face him. Well. As best as you could. He towered over you easily and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. He was beautiful, in a haunted sort of way. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken before, and a thick scar ran across his cheek and through his lips. Messy blond hair fell across his forehead and some strands into his dark brown eyes. You had never seen him before, but you assumed by his ease of movement in the library and the muscles that rippled under his shirt that he was a knight.

“If you will excuse me now,” you said tersely. He stepped back to give you space and you practically stormed past him and out of the library. No way in hell would you be accused of impropriety.

Simon watched you leave with an amused smile pulling at his lips. He bent down to offer the kitten a gentle pet and noticed that you had left a book behind. Scooping it up, he assumed it would be some frivolous thing but found himself surprised when he read the title. What the hell were you doing reading last years tax collections?

Two months passed and you were settling into your new life quite well. You rarely saw your husband and, when you did, the two of you barely exchanged more than a stilted greeting and farewell. You didn’t mind. Sure, the court and the villagers were starting to whisper about your lack of body changes, but you didn’t give a shit. King Simon hadn’t darkened the doorstep of your bedroom and you preferred it that way.

Despite the fact that villagers turned their backs to you, for once in your life, you didn’t feel pressured to exist by the constraints of others' expectations. For once, you felt like you could truly just…be.

The winter was beginning to creep up on the land. You could feel it in the mornings when your joints were a bit stiffer and the bed a little more inviting than it typically was. A new fur pelt blanket appeared on the edge of your bed after the first cold front pushed through and you accepted it gratefully. Lucy denied having acquired it, but you figured she was just being demure. King Simon and Sir MacTavish were off hunting with a few men before the winter finally closed the city walls for the season. It allowed you a chance to breathe just a little easier without wondering what your so-called husband was up to.

Despite the cold, you were in the garden plots on the far side of the castle wall. After talking with Alex, you had realized the old garden plot was too close to the castle and absorbed extra heat off of the sun’s reflection from the windows. The new garden spot provided the perfect amount of shade and light in equal turn and the herbs were growing beautifully. Alex had been called to help with a scythe injury in the fields, so you volunteered to gather the last of the herbs before the first frost. Lucy sat nearby with a basket of darning next to her. Your ever faithful friend rarely left your side and you were eternally grateful. Even if you knew she made sure to change out her dress and apron if Sir MacTavish came by to chat.

“Your Majesty!” a shrill voice shrieked in the distance. You glanced up and saw a young boy rushing towards you with two knights hot on his tail. The child’s face was stained with tears and his breaths choked off with the occasional hiccuping sob, but he still outpaced the two knights. You stood and wiped the dirt on your hands onto your skirt and kneeled in time to catch the boy by the shoulders before he bowled you over. The knights drew their weapons, but you raised your hand to stall them.

“What is it?” you urged the boy to explain. “What’s wrong?”

“My mother. She’s ill. Healer Keller is in the fields and Lady Karim went to get him, but she’s getting worse a-and I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed.

“Put your weapons away,” you ordered the knights. The older one left, presumably to fetch help, and the younger one sheathed his sword.

“Your Majesty, it’s the fever,” the knight explained. His soft eyes cast a worried glance at your hands that held the boy, but you brushed aside that concern. He was a child and he needed comfort. He needed to feel as though his mother had a fighting chance.

“Lucy, I need feverfew, ginger, and echinacea. Sir…” You turned to face the knight and he tipped his head in a formal greeting.

“Garrick, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Garrick will lead you to the house. Come, show me to your mother.” The boy grabbed your hand and you used your other free hand to gather your skirts and run. His house was on the opposite end of the village and the braying of cattle and sheep filled the air along with the clanking of their bells. When you stepped into the house, the earthy richness of the soil was overwrought with the pervasive scent of sick. A woman on the bed curled in on herself and let out a violent cough into the rag loosely clutched in her hand. Next to the bed, a baby wailed in its cradle.

“What’s your name?” you asked the boy gently.

“Tommy, m’lady.” Tears lined his eyes once more and you smoothed his hair down, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Alright, Tommy. Can you do me a favor? If I move your sister outside, can you take care of her until Sir Garrick and Lucy arrive?” He nodded his head so quickly, you thought he might injure himself.

You scooped up the baby and placed her in her brother’s arms before you grabbed the cradle and carried it outside, the children following close behind. The cold winter air nipped at your nose and you quickly discarded your fur-lined cloak. You wrapped it around Tommy and the cradle and instructed him to stay outside.

Once back in the house, you rolled up the sleeves of your gown and washed your hands in a basin set up by the door. Approaching the woman, you pressed the back of your hand to her forehead and cursed under your breath.

“Tommy?” she whimpered. You brushed your hand over her brow and shushed her.

“Rest. It’s alright. I’m here to help.”

Lucy came only a few minutes later with the supplies you ordered and a few other things she thought you would need. She then took Tommy and his sister, Eleanor, to the castle to stay at for the time being. The mother, Fiona, wasn’t too far gone in your estimate. You had helped the healers back home during the fever, slipping out when your mother wasn’t looking. The study of herbs and medicine fascinated you, even if it wasn’t a ladylike pursuit. Despite Sir Garrick’s protest at it being too dangerous, you stayed with Fiona even when Alex returned from the fields with her husband in tow. Instead, you banished the two men to find somewhere else to stay to lower their risk of infection. It would be no use if the children lost both parents and the country lost its best healer.

“Inhale, you’re doing great,” you coaxed Fiona through a steam treatment. The echinacea helped relieve some of her cough and the feverfew was bringing her temperature down. You had been at it for hours now and even though your mind ached for rest, you needed to see this through. Sir Garrick posted himself outside of the door and refused to leave until you did, so you weren’t the only one with a sleepless night.

As dawn broke on the second day, so did her fever. You must have dozed off at some point in the early hours and you rose to stoke the fire to keep the small cabin warm. Fiona stirred on her bed and let out a slight cough that sounded much better compared to the first time you saw her. A little bit of color returned to her face and you knew that you were past the point of the illness being lethal.

“Your Majesty,” she breathed. The woman tried to rise from her bed, but you shook your head and motioned for her to stay seated. You poured her a cup of ginger tea and settled yourself on the edge of the bed, helping her drink it in long, slow sips.

“How do you feel?” you asked.

“Better, m’lady. So much better. How did you…?”

A quiet laugh escaped you. “An old healer in my home village taught me all she knew. She was accused of being a witch, but she was really just smart.”

“Tommy and Eleanor? Are they alright?”

“Being doted on by the castle chef’s, I believe,” you assured her. “And your husband is with them. They’re all well.”

Fiona inhaled deeply for the first time in days and then blinked back tears. Her hands grasped yours and she bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. We thought you were some foolish girl. We’re so protective of the king that we just assumed… oh, my Queen, please forgive me for the contempt I felt towards you.”

A wave of both sorrow and adoration washed over you and you hugged the woman close. “You need not apologize. What’s done is done and let us move past it.”

On the third day, with her fever down and the risk of contagion passed, you granted the family to return to the cabin and accepted Sir Garrick’s offer of an escort back to the castle. You were sure you made a right sight, with your dress dirty with soot from mending the fire and spills of both tea and sick staining the fabric. You kept your chin up and shoulders back as you walked through the village. You didn’t want to look at the faces peering through their windows and open doors. You didn’t want to see their judgment at the sight of their Queen in such a disarray.

As you approached the castle, you asked Sir Garrick the question that had brewed in your mind since you left the cabin. “Has the king returned yet?”

“No, m’lady. We expect him back tomorrow.”

Good, you told yourself. He won’t see you looking like this. He won’t be present for what happens next.

Lucy heated bathwater for you and had it ready when you stepped through the doors of your suite. You refused to let her help you undress and bundled your dress into a bag before instructing her to burn it to ensure that contamination didn’t affect anyone else. The scent of rose petals lingered in your nose and you let your head loll back against the rim of the tub.

“You should go,” you instructed your maid. “I will fall ill in a day, maybe earlier.”

“Is that an order?” You had never used rank on her. It was unheard of between the two of you and the thought of it made you cringe.

“Never.”

“Then I shall stay.”

Through the fog of sleep, you heard the doors shudder against the force of something. Sunlight was streaming through the windows and you could guess from the position of the rays on the bed, it was near noon, far past your usual wake time. You willed your body to rise from the bed, but all you were capable of doing was releasing a violent cough that rattled your lungs and made your bones ache.

The door rattled again and you concluded that it had to be a dream. Another cough escaped you and you looked at the fabric below your cheek to see a small splatter of blood on the fabric. Yes, a dream. You were still at home. You had fallen asleep in a bed of wildflowers in the garden, a book on your chest and a bird perched on your shoulder. The warmth that flowed over your body was simply the sun bathing you in its gentle light.

Footsteps pounded against your eardrums in the steady thudthudthud that matched your heart and you shut your eyes to ward off the ache that accompanied it. A wheezing breath passed through your lips just as two hands grabbed your cheeks.

“Your Majesty!” Lucy cried from somewhere to your left.

“How long has she been ill?” a voice growled above you. You tried to place it to a face, but all you could see was what appeared to be a skull. You couldn’t be that far along in the fever, right?

“This is the second day,” Lucy explained. “It’s only going to get worse tomorrow and, if we can stymie the fever, it will abate and she will make it.”

“Soap, alert Keller now. Bring me rags and a fresh pitcher of water.” You turned your head towards the voice and tried to see past your swimming vision. A delicate touch stilled you and you let out a slow, rattling exhale.

“My lord, if you stay, you risk the security of this nation,” Lucy said quietly. What? What on earth did she mean by that? A calloused thumb rubbed along your cheekbone and you let your eyes fall shut as exhaustion began to claim you once more. You nestled closer to the comforting touch and it stilled for just a moment before resuming.

“I had the fever as a child,” Simon explained to your maid. “And if my wife is brave enough to sit with the sick, then I must be too. Go rest. I will watch her for a bit.”

She meant to protest, but one look at her king made her change her mind. He wasn’t even looking at her, but rather his entire focus was on you. He had charged into the room looking like something fresh out of war when he saw your weakened from sprawled out on the bed. Lucy had been doing her best to provide symptom relief and to lower your fever, but she was exhausted too. Sir MacTavish took hold of the maid’s arm and gently led her to a spare room on the floor so she could rest, quarantine, and regain her strength.

When the fever broke three days later, you opened your eyes to find the hulking form of your husband crushed into the tiny chair he had drawn up next to your bed. One of his rough, calloused hands wrapped around your wrist and you realized with a start that he was checking your pulse. As your heart race increased, his eyes opened. He wore a different mask than usual, just a simple black fabric that bridged across his nose and hid the lower half of his face. It revealed a few scars that marred his temple and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and smoothing the tips of your fingers over the puffy skin. He caught your wrist and you quickly realized your place and started to pull away, but he shook his head and merely drew your hand up to touch the silky blond hair he usually kept hidden from you.

It should be laughable to you. The first time your husband saw you in your nightclothes, in your bed, unmade and unraveled, and it was because you fell ill. This was the first time he had been in your room and it wasn’t for the expected production of an heir.

One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek and the other wet a cloth before dabbing it against your brow. You found that there were no words to say anything. Instead, you merely shut your eyes and let him care for you.

Things changed after that. Gone were the days spent in the company of only Lucy. Now you couldn’t make your way through the castle or the village without someone accompanying you. The villagers greeted you warmly and offered you fresh baked bread or holiday treats. When the first snow fell, you and Lucy found yourself ganged up on by some of the village kids in what turned into an all-out snowball war. Laughter rang out in the courtyard as you dashed around the bend of one of the stables to avoid a well-aimed snowball. Lucy had been tackled by some of the smaller kids and succumbed to them piling on her with shrieks of laughter and giggles echoing off the stone. You could hear some of the older kids coming towards your hiding location and you quickly turned around the corner only to land against a firm, unyielding chest.

Before you could say anything, a hand came up to cover your mouth and your husband raised a finger to his lips. He stepped away from you and bent down to scoop up a handful of snow and pack it into a perfect sphere. By the time the kids emerged from their hiding places, the two of you had a nice pile of ammo growing.

“You dare threaten the Queen?” Simon boomed in an overly exaggerated voice. As you pelted the kids with snow, Simon lunged and scooped up one of the smaller children who erupted into shrieks and giggles. Your heart seized at the sight of one of the world’s strongest warriors gently carrying this child. In all of your time here, you had never seen one of the rumors of the Riley clan come true. They were not vicious or cruel. They were good, kind people. They were as good as their king.

The parents came to collect their children and haul them back inside to warm up. It sounded like a good idea to you as snow dripped down the back of your cloak and soaked your dress. Lucy was off talking to Sir MacTavish, or Soap as he asked to be called, so you started to head inside alone. As you stepped out from the stable, a shiver wracked through your body and then a heavy fabric draped over your shoulder and settled across your body. You looked up to find your husband in a staring contest with one of the horses and you looked down at his cloak that now graced your body. A shy smile bloomed across your lips and you slipped your hand out of the bundle of fabric to seek out his.

“Would you like to join me in the library for some hot tea after we get out of these wet clothes?” His eyes darkened at your words and, afraid you overstepped, you started to draw your hand back when his fingers entwined with yours.

“I’ll have the cooks make hot cocoa,” he said in that rough, rich voice of his.

After a quick change into something dry and comfortable, you made your way down the hall to the library. You hadn’t been in here for at least a week due to being inundated with preparation for the solstice celebrations. Holly hung from shelves and crevices. Warm fur and soft knitted blankets lined the seating area. A tray of sweets and cocoa sat on the low table between the two sofas. A crackling fire jumped and danced within the hearth and beside it, a momma cat with her (now) adolescent kittens slumbered lazily by the warmth.

And standing by the window, watching the snow fall down, was your husband. He turned when he heard the door open and offered you a small smile.

Oh.

A smile.

He wore no mask.

“You were the one that scared me half to death that night,” you blurted out. He ducked his head, almost bashful, and nodded.

“My apologies, once again.”

You stepped closer to him and took a solid look at him in the light of day. You reached up and touched the edge of his lip, right where that nasty scar bisected his smile. There were stories of the old king of this land, stories that you wished desperately weren’t true, but you were afraid of their veracity. This scar wasn’t obtained from battle, you figured. But rather his father.

“You’re so handsome,” you breathed, truth in your words. His eyes watched you carefully as you ran your fingers along every one of his features, as though you could commit the touch of him to memory. When you first learned you would be marrying the King of the Riley lands, you were scared. Was he some snarling beast of a man? Would he take and take and take until there was nothing left of you?

No, you whispered to your past self. He was nothing like the rumors and everything like the man you dreamed you would marry. He was kind and gentle. He cared deeply, so deeply that it etched into every fiber of his being. He read literature, he took care of cats, he loved seeing his people experience joy, and he-

He kissed you as though he was a drowning man taking his first breath in a long time. You raised your chin to beckon him closer and curled yourself into his large frame. There was no fear in your mind or body, not when Simon was here. His large palm settled low on your back and pulled you flush against him, eliciting a tiny moan from you. You could feel his desire grow against you and you pulled away with a gasp.

“I have been a terrible husband,” he murmured and pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed him in and slid your hands up and over his broad, strong chest, his biceps, his shoulders, and into his hair. You tugged the strands gently and he groaned, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses along your jaw.

“I misjudged you, dear wife.” His hands slid down to grasp your ass and you whimpered, your heated fleshing erupting with desire. “I had no idea how precious you would be to me, to my people.”

“I fear we were both wrong about each other,” you gasped out. He picked you up with ease and left the library, turning right instead of left towards your room. For the first time, you were entering his room.

“Let me make it up to you, my love. Let me atone for every day I have left you without knowing how truly worthy you are.”

The maids and ladies of the court had gossiped about how it hurts, but they didn’t speak of what pleasure it could bring. He practically drove you mad from the way he drew you apart and made you snap. He took you apart over and over again only to bring you back together with such a gentle touch that you couldn’t believe that he was yours.

Four months after your nuptials, your husband finally laid you to bed and claimed you as his. But he waited until you breathed your assent against his lips, until you begged him to take you, until you claimed him as yours too. And when you finally collapsed against his sweaty, heaving chest, you waited for him to get up and walk out as so many women told you that their husbands do. But he merely slid his arm around your waist and drew you into his chest, his hand settling over the soft skin of your stomach.

“I have always been scared at the prospect of being a father,” he admitted. His words were stilted and slow, as if he had to consider each one carefully before he said them. You stroked your fingers through his hair and drew his knuckles to your lips so you could pepper kisses along the calluses of war that remained there.

“I’m not,” you said.

“Not what?”

Your eyes met his and he curled his fingers around your jaw, guiding you to meet his lips in a sweet kiss. When you broke apart, merely a hairbreadth away, you spoke. “I’m not afraid. I can be brave for the both of us.”

You nestled your face against his bare chest and hummed softly. His hand stroked along your bare waist, not in desire, but solely as a means to touch you in pure devotion. Your words seemed to stun him, but he regained his wits and leaned down to kiss your temple.

“If you don’t bring me those cookies, dear husband, I’m afraid I will never speak to you again,” you said, cracking one eye open to look at him. A brilliant smile spread across his lips and he hopped up, throwing on some pants so he didn’t scar any guards walking down the hall. You sat up to watch his toned body disappear through the door and bit your lip as want pulsed through your veins.

That night, you didn’t return to your bedroom. You wouldn’t have been able to, you mused, not with the sheer weight and muscle of your husband wrapped around you. But you didn’t mind. Here, in his bed, you didn’t feel the same emptiness or cold that seeped into your bones when you were alone in yours.

Spring brought new life to the world. You sat out in the gardens and plucked some weeds that threatened to overtake your herbs. The kitten from the library, now a full grown cat but definitely still a kitten in your eyes, lounged lazily at your feet. Lucy worked on embroidering something that you pointedly didn’t ask if it was for her wedding night. Because she and Soap refused to announce that they were betrothed even though you all had bets on it. That is precisely why they wouldn’t say, you figured. Brats.

Soap and Simon and Sir Garrick (Gaz, you reminded yourself) were off with a few other knights on a hunting party and also a reconnaissance mission. Word had it that a faction from a neighboring country was looking to cause trouble. Shadows, they were called, due to their ability to just appear and disappear into the forests.

The captain of his guard, John Price, stayed behind to protect the castle. John was a nice man, older than both you and Simon, but he was a good leader and an even better fighter. The knights listened to him and there were times that Simon went to him for advice on matters of state. You trusted John.

So when he approached you that day in the garden with a troubled look on his face, you knew to listen.

“Your Majesty, I have reports of movement on the western quadrant. I’ve dispatched a rider to inform the King, but I am about to place us on lockdown. I need you to come with me.”

Lucy was up before you could even begin to stand and she quickly helped you to your feet and guided you towards the castle. You knew that you needed to keep a serene, calm expression on your face so as not to incite panic. You hated that you were going into hiding when your people would be caught in the crossfire.

“How far is Simon?”

“About two hours away.”

A lot could happen in two hours. A siege could last days or the walls could fall within minutes. You inhaled deeply as you followed him through the winding maze of the castle halls. Time and experience had made you quick to learn the routes through here and hopefully, it would confuse an intruder.

John led you to a small room hidden under the stairs in the servants quarters and offered a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing but a precaution, my lady. But do not leave this room unless the King or I come for you.”

He overestimated your ability to sit quietly and listen to your people die. These so-called Shadows felt no remorse in taking down innocent people. Lucy had to practically sit on you and cover your mouth as you trembled with rage. Hurried footsteps sounded all around you as servants rushed about and knights set up barriers and mounted defenses.

It wasn’t enough.

They attacked at the beginning of spring, when people were lax from the winter feasts and lack of physical work due to being kept inside by the cold and snow. They knew this was when you would be weakest and that’s why they exploited it.

Fear lapped at your stomach and you shut your eyes as a pained cry ripped through the servants quarters. No, you couldn’t do this. The Shadows weren’t after them. They were after you.

You shoved Lucy back and forced open the door, coming face to face with a knight in black armor. He raised his blade but hesitated when he took in the sight of the circlet that adorned your head. With a chuckle, he raised his helmet and revealed his smarmy face.

“How do you do, Your Majesty? Name’s Graves.”

“Go to hell,” you spat.

The knight dragged you out of the castle with little protest on your end. Servants peered around the corner of walls and furniture as you strode past, but they were safe. Now that the Shadows had their hands on one of the monarchs, they no longer needed to target the people. More of the Shadows fell in behind the two of you and you were glad to pull them away from terrorizing your family. Your friends. Your citizens.

“Your Majesty,” an older man greeted. “I wish we met under better circumstances. Herschel Shepherd.”

“Fuck you,” was your simple reply. The man chuckled and then backhanded you hard enough to split your lip thanks to his thick signet ring. The Shadows spread out in a circle around the three of you, blocking anyone from rushing to your rescue.

“You know why we’re here then,” Shepherd said. Graves yanked you back into a standing position and forced your chin up so you had to look the man in the eye. You simply rolled your eyes and glared at him, your hands bunching in the fabric of your skirt.

“I know you’re a coward. And pathetic.” Another smack to the other side of the face had you tasting blood.

“I know the King probably likes your pretty mouth, but I’m getting tired of it. You know what I want.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Then I’ll slaughter your entire village.”

Your chest tightened because it wasn’t an empty threat and you knew it. You had heard the reports of other villages and countries. You had heard the stories of what they had done to women and children and men.

“Will you do it yourself? Or make your men do it so you can go to bed every night lying to yourself that your a good man?”

His eyes flashed with something dangerous but you didn’t flinch. Rather, you curled your lips into a sneer and spat directly into his face. He grabbed your jaw, hard enough to force your teeth together with a painful clack, and dragged you to face him. His grip shifted down and around your throat, cutting off your air.

“I should kill you. I should. But once I get you to submit and renounce the crown, I’ll keep you around. Looks like Riley hasn’t laid his seed yet so I’ll let Graves do it. I’ll make sure that no matter how hard you try, you’ll have the heir to the Shadows. You’ll be our whore. Our bitch.”

You struggled against his hold and kicked out, connecting with his shin. He released you but Graves grabbed your arms and pinned them back, securing them with rope, before he pressed on the back of your knees.

“Kneel,” Graves hissed.

“Make me,” you snarled. You just needed to buy some more time. You just needed to-

No. Lucy was thrown into the mud next to you, her hands bound behind her back. She was breathing deeply and you could see her wince with every movement. Broken rib, maybe two, you cataloged. Those bastards.

“Kneel and I won’t kill her,” Shepherd commanded. Your heart pounded painfully against your chest as you slowly, slowly knelt down in the mud. He grinned, an awful and predatory smile, and yanked the circlet out of your hair.

“Look at your queen!” Shepherd boomed. “Come out and see how she prostrates herself before her new ruler. It’s alright now. You all are saved.”

Villagers peeked out of their houses and saw the spectacle before them. The Shadows parted to reveal you to the crowds in a mud-stained dress, crown gone, and bruises already forming on your face. A noise rang out in the village, some kind of holler. Shepherd’s smile widened.

“Yes, yes. Gone are the days of eating scraps while your ruler lives in riches,” he called. “Come see for yourself. She’s merely human.”

You bowed your head to look at Lucy and check over her. That’s what you told yourself, at least. You didn’t want to see the truth. You waited for the derision, the sneers, for the anger they surely felt at your failure to keep them safe. You waited for the rage to rain down upon you.

It never came.

A roar, no, a battle cry swept through the village and then they were descending en masse. No amount of armor or training could save the Shadows from the pure, violent rage of your people. You raised your head to see Fiona jab a pitchfork through a knight’s neck and let out a breathless laugh.

Chaos reigned. You wrenched yourself over Lucy’s body and pressed your cheek against your dear friends, listening to her labored breathing below and the sounds of war above. What if a horse struck you? Or a blade stabbed you in the back? What if a Shadow grabbed you and made for the forest? What if, what if, what if?

Someone grabbed your bicep and you kicked back, but a familiar voice calmed you instantly. “It’s me, m’lady!” John shouted. He sliced through your bonds and did the same for Lucy. You turned and saw that he was in a dreadful fucking state. Blood practically caked every inch of his armor and exposed skin.

“We need to get you out of here,” he ordered.

“And go where?” you retorted. “Give me a knife, sir, and watch me cut out every tongue of the men who dare harm my people.”

“Where is my wife?” Simon’s roaring voice erupted over the din. The villagers stopped their rabid attacks as the King’s Guard swept into the walls of the city. You nearly wept in relief at the sight of the masked figure atop the pure black horse. He looked as thought he were the Grim Reaper himself, but death would not touch you today.

Rage filled his very veins when he saw you, battered and bleeding and standing in the middle of carnage. He jumped down from his steed and pushed through the crowd to you. Blood caked your hair and dripped down your forehead and for a moment, he was terrified it was yours.

“Are you hurt?” His armor was cold where it touched your cheek and you shook your head, reconsidered, and then nodded.

“But not as bad as Lucy or others. I need to get to the healers room. I need to help them,” you pleaded. Soap had dismounted and rushed to join you when he saw Lucy and he knelt next to her now, gentle hands probing against her broken ribs.

“Where is he?” Simon snarled. “Where is Shepherd?”

“Right here, sir,” Fiona announced. He turned to find the farmer’s wife with her foot planted on the man’s chest and her pitchfork digging into the exposed skin of his neck. “Lou’s got the slimy bastard too. No one hurts our queen. No one.”

Affection squeezed your heart so tightly you feared you would break down and weep right there. These people, this nation, had adopted you and loved you unlike any other. You were a mere princess married to their king for an alliance but to them, you were their queen by merit alone.

“Round up any of the Shadows that remain,” Ghost ordered. “Leave Shepherd to me.”

You knew he would kill him. In fact, you knew he would torture him. But that didn’t scare you. Simon’s hands didn’t leave you until you were finally pulled away to aid with healing. There were bodies to prepare for burial, items to repair, people to hold as they grieved.

A queen’s job was never done. You wouldn’t give it up for anything.

In the quiet of the night, when the injured were sleeping peacefully thanks to droughts and pain relief, you slipped out of the healer’s quarters and found Simon leaning against the wall. He raised his head when he heard you step out and his tired eyes shut in relief.

“You should be sleeping,” you chastised. He shook his head and removed his mask, baring himself to you.

“I close my eyes and I see your corpse,” he admitted. “John informed me as to what you did. Sacrifice yourself.”

“I did what I had to do to keep them safe.”

He tipped his head back against the wall, exposing the smooth column of his throat and the way his throat bobbed with every labored breath. “I know. Fuck, I know. But I am a selfish enough man to admit that I would have rather you remained untouched.”

“I can be replaced. Our people cannot.”

He screwed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his hand. Simon inhaled deeply, as if calming himself, and shook his head. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever fucking say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you can be replaced. You are not some expendable object. You are not some figurehead I can stuff a new body into. You are…you are exquisite. You are magnificent. Our people would rather die than ever lose you, do you understand that?” His armor creaked and groaned in protest but this man, this king, kneeled before you and fisted the fabric of your dirty, blood-stained gown in his hands and pressed his face against your stomach.

“Never say that,” he begged. “Please, I cannot bear to hear you say that in my presence again.”

“Simon.” Was that tears you saw in his eyes? “Look at me.” Truly, it was tears that lined his honey brown eyes. You swept your thumb across his lashes and gathered the salty tear on your skin. Leaning down, you pressed your forehead to his and breathed him in.

“What can I do to make you understand?” His voice was hoarse and thick with emotion.

“Nothing. I understand.” Exhaustion sank into your bones and dragged you down into his arms. He cradled you against him and hauled you up with ease. The day’s events were catching up to you quickly and you wished for the sun to rise again, simply so you could move past the blood that was caked on your skin.

He carried you all the way to his -- your shared -- room and set you on the ground before a bath of steaming water. Simon undressed you carefully, peeling off each layer as if you would dissolve once he reached your chemise, and then settled you into the tub. He stripped off his armor, his underclothes, and settled in behind you. His fingers etched their devotion with every gentle pass of soap against your skin and he took your hand in his to scrub the blood out from under your nails.

“Lucy?” Your tired voice sounded foreign to you, like another person was speaking.

“Soap’s with her. She’ll make a full recovery, just in time for the wedding.” A soft smile curled at his lips and you tilted your head back to rest against his shoulder. His lips traced along the cuts that Shepherd’s hands left and he removed the pain with a simple kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. You could feel his frown against the skin of your neck and he took a deep breath before asking what you meant.

“I lied to you. I’m afraid.”

“Oh my love.” He kissed your shoulder. “I was afraid too.”

“No, Simon, I wasn’t afraid before. I knew you would come. I knew that, whatever happened to me, you would avenge me. That didn’t scare me. It’s what is to come.”

You drew one of his hands away from the side of the tub and rested it on your stomach, above the slight swell that Alex confirmed earlier was indeed the next heir to the Riley throne. Simon’s breath hitched against your neck and then he fell silent. You shut your eyes and waited for his condemnation at your foolish actions today. You could threaten your own life all you wanted, but the heir?

“Simon?” Fear laced your voice and he hated that he put it here. He pressed his cheek to your hair and stroked his thumb against your stomach.

“I was content to rip out one of his lungs,” Simon murmured in your ear. “But now I have two reasons to remove both entirely. He threatened the life of my queen, my love, and he threatened the life of my heir.”

You exhaled a shaky breath and felt a smile grow on your face. He tapped your hip and you stood, letting the water slough off of you and back into the water that was now a mix of mud and blood. Simon took his time drying you off, leaving lingering kisses on every part of your body. Your shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips, even your calves received an equal measure of love. As he knelt at your feet once more, you cupped his face in your hands and pulled his gaze up to meet yours. He settled his chin on your stomach and looked at you with so much adoration.

“Are you afraid?”

His smile grew. “No, for I know you will be brave enough for both of us. And you, my little wife, have the bravery of a lioness.”

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost fic #5k celebration

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bucknastysbabe · 10 months ago

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now, catholic school priest criston and aemonds twin. Criston is from a catholic family, wanted to be a priest since he was a little boy, going to the sunday mass with his mothet was like the highlight of his week, went into the seminary very young, never had a girlfriend, he is a good man alright. then aemonds twin, whos not catholic, not even christian, her dad doesnt even go to church but alicent is very catholic and she wanted her kids to go to catholic school. but shes a menace, a straight up gremlin, like aegon but a girl and not a loser (srry aegon ily). And criston is sure the devil sent her to tempt him and shes like but what if it was god the one who sent me for you??? And specially for you??? Like, as a treat?! 🤗

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k of filth and catholic guilt

Tags: 90’s catholic school setting, Criston had the Crisis, mutual masturbation, confession booth shenanigans, age difference, manipulation, teacher/student relationship, sexual tension, Targtower reader, Criston’s woe is me internal monologue, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, pnv!sex, Jesus saw that Crispy, DESPERATION, priest kink, #imahorridcatholic

A/N: I made that priest edit and I’m proud also listened to talk by hozier for the entire last part. I’m a gremlin and made her her daeron’s twin.

Taglist: @fairysluna @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @bambitas

Criston knew his purpose since the day he could recall. Nothing pleased him more than sitting in mass with his mother, going through Sunday school, getting ready to become an official Catholic. Confirmation was the one of the happiest days of his life.

Vocation became the forefront of Criston’s mind in school. He probably annoyed the hell out of Father Dondarrion, pestering the priest with questions upon questions about seminary. In the mean time, he was the best altar boy a Cole could be. A-team altar boy! Strong fumbled the bells every time, it repulsed Criston.

He did other school things such as tennis, won a state championship in that, got some offers for a spot on a college team. Then in the other season he played second base for the baseball team, won a state championship in that and received multiple offers to college teams. No, Criston had his mind made up. He could lead others to victory— through Christ’s love of course. He had to admit his father was quite pissed about the baseball team but he’d be okay. Criston had a little brother, he was athletic.

The young man had even tried dating, just to see if God called for Criston to instead populate the world and lead a family. Not tend to the flock of sheep. There was a plethora of girls but he fell for a devil.

Her name was Rhaenyra Targaryen and she left him in a puddle of tears. The rich girl couldn’t respect staying chaste until marriage. He was ready to give her a ring. The priest sniffed recalling her harsh words, “You, like, won’t even dry hump me? What’s the point?” At the time the young man was miffed, broken, distraught. Criston held a hand over his heart as he whispered tearily, “You want me to be your whore?”

Mind you, he was a foolish 17 year old. The man was tested with her, but he learned from the experience. Criston was obviously meant to be a priest. He prayed and prayed for God to reveal his path. The answer came in Father Dondarrion giving Criston a letter from the Archbishop himself, inviting the young man to join seminary.

Criston took his first vows at the tender age of 18. He spent the next seven years learning and perfecting his bond with God, ready to guide his brothers and sisters in Christ. He’d smile and wave off comments at his home parish, often elder women asking why such a handsome young man would devote his life to chastity.

He rarely thought much of it. Jerking off was a boring thing, simply a biological process Cole needed to take care of. He took no shame nor pleasure in it, not truly thinking of anything at all. It would lessen as he aged but currently Criston was twenty-five and a ‘hot blooded’ young man.

He got his first job as a teacher in a Catholic school. At the beginning, Father Criston Cole found a passion for teaching while on a mission trip. He was ecstatic for the job. A year later he was significantly less overzealous. Add some years later Criston found himself, well, bored. Agitated. Discontent if you will.

Lord knows he had to calm himself for these wayward children. After a long day the man would pour some scotch and wonder why the rich ones were the worst behaved. Especially the damn Targaryens— he thought he could escape from that name.

Rhaenyra’s father had remarried and they had five children. Rhaenyra had five herself, different fathers came the whispers. The two youngest apparently looked like her. Criston smirked into his glass, God was watching and protecting him even as a foolish kid. She left the church anyways, but the children were polite and well-behaved in class.

Alicent Hightower-Targaryen’s children were a handful. Aegon made Criston sick to his stomach, the idiot either drunk or high in class, flipping up skirts of poor girls. If the priest thought about the eldest too long he’d grow a headache. He chose not to dwell on the fact that the family generously paid for Aegon to graduate— like a twisted version of simony.

Then along came sweet Helaena, she made good marks but often had to be drawn back to attention, and he tried to stifle the bullying drawn to her strange nature. Aemond was another headache, in a good way. He seemed to fit the vocational lifestyle and bonded with Criston over it. Criston truly enjoyed discussing hot topics in the church with the smart lad.

Aemond just needed to let his anger go and let God in, Criston had to do the same, his temper could be stormy. Then Aemond graduated and went off to study the sciences. Criston frankly thought he was done. He forgot. The twins were seniors and signed into his year-long Papal History elective.

He was now 32, and God really had sent him a test this time. In the form of good-natured Daeron’s wily sister. He had to send her to the Headmaster’s office the first day! The pale-haired girl was wearing an…indecent…skirt. One to catch long shapely legs.

He huffed and downed the rest of his scotch. He knelt before his icon of Christ and prayed. ‘Please my loving lord, I am afraid you shall test me, but give me the strength to pass through this.’ He felt strange. This girl was trouble. Criston wiped his face and grabbed his scotch again, one more would do for the night. He hissed, “FuckingfuckfucksticksFUCK!” Eyes widening he apologized to the empty room, “Forgive me my lord, that was uncouth.”

It was November 1997. Father Cole thought about making a request to a parish to be their full-time priest. He suited up for the lovely worship of Mass, mood sour. Deacon Erryk was next to him, almost out of his seminary studies. Erryk hummed, “How’s the class this year?”

“A pain in my side. I have another Aegon Targaryen in the form of his youngest sister. She seeks to make me miserable.”

The man stifled a laugh and prodded, “Damn. Aegon was bad, he was in my class with you. My condolences Criston, pray that Mary will bless the girl with some sense.”

Criston grumbled, “Indeed.” He felt old. Erryk was about to be a priest now.

Mass went off good as gold, the younger altar boys falling into place easily. He could always see the believers and non-believers based on their actions. Some wouldn’t even stand when he entered the room, the cross bearer ignored too. If Criston could start throwing Holy Water he would, ingrates.

In the front row, Daeron and his sister sat. Criston tried not to grimace as he sat down in his chair. They’d have mass every Friday at the school. Confession on Tuesdays. Criston would teach a RCIA class next semester for those outside of the school at night.

She was staring at him, wearing another little dress with her button-up underneath the skinny straps. He could see her smokey eyeshadow and glossed lips, moving around a piece of gum. Daeron held himself in reverence, hands clasped. Criston turned away, he would not give the evil little blonde any satisfaction!

He shivered when she knelt and took the body of Christ, tongue lapping against his fingers with a licentious look. The priest almost yelped, moving onto the next. He was shaken for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe he should call for advice— no, no, they would think Cole some sort of deviant pedophile. That was a problem enough and she was merely being a temptress. ‘Son of a fucking BIIIIIIITCH’, he thought angrily. Then did the sign of the cross.

The beleaguered priest sat at his desk during his planning period, grading papers. The headphones on his head played some songs— his only vice. He loved ‘radical’ music. So Criston kept that little secret to himself. He liked to belt rock ballads. Only by himself in the rectory.

How embarrassing. A grown man of the cloth.

The door opening had Criston jerking his head up, hand flicking off his walkman. He raised a brow when it was the little Targaryen and her mother, livid by her expression and wild red hair. She shoved the girl in a seat and crossed her arms.

Criston stood up and greeted the frankly scary woman, “Miss Hightowergaryen, oh, Hightower-Targaryen yes!” He peeked at teary red eyes, deadpanning, “And you.” The senior scoffed, “Good to see you too Father.” He ignored her quip and cautiously asked, “What seems to be the problem?” Alicent raved, “She’s going off the wrong path, just like Aegon. Guess where Aegon is, tell Father Cole please!” She gave her daughter a sharp look.

The girl mumbled something before getting a pinch to her arm. She croaked, “He’s in rehab! Rehab! Alright there mom!” The younger curled in and hid under her blonde hair, streaked with some sort of red dye.

He frowned but couldn’t say he was quite surprised. Criston offered, “My apologies, may he find the light of His way soon. Occasionally some rejoin the church or convert after getting clean and sober. Is there an issue with my student Miss?”

Alicent sighed, calming a bit and taking a deep breath. She looked up, doe eyes wide and pleading. The mother asked, “Can we go into your private office for a second Father?” She stopped and hissed, “Don’t you move an inch!”

A roll of violet eyes was the answer, pouting lips turning further downward.

Criston perched on his desk and tried to soothe the woman, “Alicent, relax my old friend, what can I do for you?” He offered a look of sympathy, watching her pace and run a hand wildly through her hair. The woman stopped in place and whimpered, “She’s so lost, I can’t screw up another one of my babies. I need you to keep an eye on her, pray and guide, something…Something so I know I tried.”

She looked very tired, taking a sharp breath in to chew at her nails. Alicent rambled, “She was so good, her and Daeron were so good. Then she turned sixteen and something happened, I don’t know what, and it’s gotten worse. She hates Sunday mass, like Aegon and Rhaenyra. I don’t want to lose her forever to whatever this is, straying off the path.”

He nodded contemplatively, hand on his chin, thinking. Alicent was in a state of chronic stress, even back when they were all in school. She married Rhaenyra’s father so young, nineteen to be exact. He felt a need to protect the woman of God, just trying her best to lead her children to heaven since Viserys did not seem to be in the picture.

He swore, “I’ll do my best, you have my word Alicent. God bless you, let me bless you.” He prayed over her and the tenseness seemed to leave her shoulders. Alicent smiled softly and thanked Criston, the pair of them exiting the office.

Her daughter remained seated, looking more miserable by the second. She gazed up with curious eyes, mouth still set in a pout. Alicent beamed, “Father Criston will be keeping an eye on you and reporting to me, okay? You will behave and try to learn that the path of the righteous is never easy.”

She raised a brow, “So I’m going to have my priest follow me around? That’s uncool.”

Alicent stiffened and remarked, “No. You’ll come to him when in trouble. You’ll be spending lunch with him too so you don’t go off and smoke like a vagrant. We will go sign it in with the headmaster now. Get up.”

Criston had to hold his jaw closed. He definitely did not know what he was signing up for. Hail Mary, full of grace rambled off in his head. This would be a tumultuous year for sure— inked and sealed onto paper. God bless him.

“I guess we’ll be the best of friends now,” she snarled tearily.

Criston placed a hand on her shoulder and hummed, “God works in mysterious ways Targaryen.” Internally he was climbing a mountain and shouting at the heavens like some Bible prophet. He was feeling very Job-like at the moment.

First of all, he truly didn’t expect the girl to sit in his classroom during lunch. Criston raised a brow when she entered, slammed down her lunch and plopped down. She cocked her head and smiled, “Afternoon father.”

“Afternoon,” he replied, turning his gaze back upon the scripture he was annotating. Cole wanted to comment on her sudden chopping of that beautiful white-blonde hair, or the fact she smelled of minty cigarettes. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

It remained quiet until she blurted, “Do you smoke?”

Yes, in fact he did. But she didn’t need to know that. Criston murmured, “No I do not.” To which she lobbed back, “Is it not a sin to lie? I saw you in the parking lot! Also you smell like marlboros sometimes.” Her face turned bright red— like she had no control over her yapping.

Criston peeled off his glasses and sat back in his chair to level the girl with a stern look. He flatly stated, “Yes, good point, it was a sin for me to lie. Although as your teacher and priest I would not have you pick up bad habits,” he took a moment before asking, “How do I smell of cigarettes in class? Are you sniffing me?”

She stammered, “N-no! No! It’s just when you pass by, I don’t know, stop!”

Criston shook his head in concern, “Please do not sniff me in class, that’s, that’s strange.”

“I don’t sniff you! Quit saying that! Okay, enough of smoke talk! Hi how are you doing Father Cole?,” she animatedly gestured, eyes wild and cheeks pink.

He couldn’t help but snicker at her mad gestures. Snickers turned into genuine laughter, Criston slapping his desk a bit. A different hand slapping down on his desk made the man look up, donning a grin at her grumpy face. The littlest dragon hissed, “Ha-ha very funny. I asked you a question. Small talk, since I’m stuck here with you for lunch.”

Criston shrugged and replied, “Ask a better question, I don’t know how I’m doing half of the time. Especially having to babysit a legal adult.”

Her pout was endearing, the girl biting into her sandwich in an aggressive manner. She chewed and swallowed before blurting, “Is it true my half-sister dumped you in highschool?” Criston squawked in surprise, heaven on earth, how would she even get the knowledge? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he sighed.

“Yes, she dumped me. Didn’t want to stay chaste until marriage. That was a little personal don’t you think Miss Targaryen?”

She seemed to contemplate his words, sounding out her thoughts, “Now you’re a priest and she has like 2 baby daddies and a gay hubby. Cool. Love my family.” Her laugh was a sharp giggle, almost sarcastic in nature. Nothing like the torture of Aegon’s nonsensical shrieks.

Criston smiled a bit at the information, leaning back in his chair. He sucked on his teeth and asked her, “Why’d you cut off all your hair?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I was wondering if you would make a comment, quote some scripture that shorter hair is for lesbians and therefore I’m going to hell.” The older man gaped and stared, almost choking at her blunt words.

“No- what? You’ve got some sort of an imagination!,” he sipped on a water bottle, offended she would assume he was that mean, “I think it fits you nicely, glad whatever dye you put in was lost in the chop.” He shook his head, muttering about lesbian scripture. She giggled again, content with flustering the priest.

Criston tried to hold off a headache as she yapped about school. He snorted a bit when she marked some of the students on the dot. Soon the bell rang and she packed up her lunch, swinging her backpack on. Stopping at the door she asked, “So what’s your poison of choice? I like the fancy camel ones.”

He stared blankly before deadpanning, “Marlboro reds, now begone Targaryen.”

Her endearing giggle echoed as she left, the door swinging shut. Criston sat back in his chair and sighed— she had spunk. He quite appreciated it. Maybe she was a gift to spice up his growing distaste of where his life was at.

His dark eyes widened. He’s got to be too young for a midlife crisis? Now he really wanted a cigarette.

Father Criston Cole was indeed having a mid-life crisis. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, fitting his clerical collar on. Peering closer he inspected his face. He was still relatively young looking, hair not showing any grays. Practicing a smile he immediately dropped the grin. Crows feet. Great.

The priest shivered at the slight wrinkles. Why did he care? He didn’t have anyone to impress. A cheeky smile and icy eyeshadow, choppy blonde hair flitted through his mind. Goodness gracious he was her teacher, her priest, went to school with the girl’s parent. A spiritual guide!

This was bad. The damn girl had him wrapped around her ringed pinky. Bringing her little gifts, letting the blonde stay after school to chit chat. One time he let her cry on his shoulder, upset about rumors swirling. Criston heard a lot in the classroom.

Slut, whore, burnout, bitch.

He didn’t want to know what the little dragon got up to in her spare time but his knuckles did whiten at the thought of her not treating her body as a temple. Letting stupid boys have their way. Not like he could help. He was a priest and the farthest he’d ever gotten was smooching Rhaenyra and grabbing her tit before freaking out.

He needed to pray. Pray away these sinful thoughts. Guilt wracked his chest. He couldn’t turn the girl away either— he made a promise to Alicent. On a better note, her grades and attendance had improved. Ali called him once to thank the priest for helping her daughter. Although the girl still was apprehensive about faith. He didn’t push the subject; she didn’t bring it up. Maybe sometime soon.

Brushing back his curls, Criston sprayed cologne on his dark garb. He bought it on a self-indulgent whim. Maybe to cover the cigarette smoke, truly to entice a certain favorite student. Instead he was pestered by other girls bringing treats and batting their eyes at him. The man of the cloth could care less about the others. He was hopelessly haunted by his agnostic, rebellious student.

The man prayed some, did a Hail Mary before smoking a cigarette or five with his coffee. He was jittery at school now, worried that somehow a teacher or the elder nun would run and declare him a sinful wretch. Locking himself in the office until class time seemed like a good option.

He tried to grade some papers, mind drifting off to the increasingly heavy burden on his shoulders. Something needed to give— he was afraid what that might be. Deacon Arryk gave the homily that morning mass since Criston was out of sorts. Trying to not stare when she knelt and took the body of Christ. Playfully flicking his fingers with that tongue and saying ‘amen’.

Thank the Trinity and the saints he was covered head to toe in thick vestments. Hiding his cock just brought to mind Criston’s change in habit. Jerking off wasn’t a mindless activity anymore. He imagined plump lips and her raspy voice, teasing him, so delightfully mean. Then he’d flip her around and- he usually came with a pathetic noise by that point in the fantasy.

He pressed his fingers into his temples, groaning aloud. Doomed. Eternal hell. Purgatory sentence maximum if he got lucky. The second bell of the day woke the man from his racing mind. Criston straightened up and popped some gum in. Mary take pity on his soul. Satan himself was testing Criston. Although he couldn’t help but think she was anything but demonic.

The next day the tired priest had to attend confession for two hours. Usually it wasn’t a laborious affair; most of the kids who attended were the devout sort and only had some venial sins. Daeron Targaryen was a regular attendee, his twin was not.

He thought he was done for the day, sighing in relief. The two hours were up. Until the curtain swished and someone entered. The brunette thought to groan and hit his head on the wood. Fuck him— sorry, forgiveness please Lord for the profanity.

Criston’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. That lilting, teasing, raspy voice that was the specter of the nightmares and fantasies. He could faintly see the outline of her, that damn silvery blonde hair.

“Uhhh, bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been, uh, one year since my last confession?” She made the sign of the cross, bracelets jingling. Criston could snort— blondie was obviously reading off a note card. She remained quiet afterward.

He prodded, “Go on child.”

She huffed, “I’ve lied, slandered, gossiped about others. I’m inattentive in mass. I don’t respect my parents. I’ve been ungrateful, taking the lords body out of a state of grace. Obviously I’m egotistical, depraved of thoughts, I’m selfish.”

Father Cole swallowed.

She laughed blithely, “I could probably keep going except for mortal sins? I steal, sneak, deceive, suffer from jealousy and envy. Bad bad envy. Always want what I can’t have, y’know?”

He wanted to ask her to clarify…but had a feeling.

The twin’s voice lowered to a purr, “I think you’re waiting for the grand finale. I’m lustful, wanton, perform unnatural acts of sex. Inordinate affection, especially for men who are sworn to another. I defile myself to the thought of him.”

Criston gripped his black slacks roughly, cock swelling so fast he was pretty sure his vision had spots in it. He discreetly tried to readjust himself, swallowing back a whine. The man was no better than a horny boy— denying the pleasures of the flesh for so long.

“I’m a fornicator. Not lately. I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of him.”

The priest hadn’t stopped rubbing himself, biting on his bottom lip to shut up as she rambled on. Oh, it felt so goddamn good he was panting. Meanwhile from the other side he could hear her shifting, voice growing breathier as she talked.

“I think about him touching me, kissing me, those pretty lips and dark eyes only for me. I fucking hate when other girls talk to him— I slashed one’s t-tires.”

“No swearing,” Criston grunted.

“Sorry, where was I? I came so hard the other day wondering what his cock would feel like inside of me. I don’t know if y- he would last long but I’d keep riding, oh mmh!,” her breath hitched and he could hear slick noises from beyond the screen. She was touching herself in the booth. Touching herself. In the booth.

He leaned back, head thumping against the wood, practically humping his hand. Criston whined through his nose, mouth hanging open. The man was a goddamn mess, pleading, “You’d ride him huh? Until he got ready again?”

“Mhmmm, yeah, I’d put his pretty cock in my mouth until I felt him get hard. Hah, what do you think he would do to me?”

Oh holy spirits, he had no clue? Everything? He’d do anything? He drew on his fantasies and the dirty mag a boy brought to class once. Criston went home and asked forgiveness for seeing the woman…doing that.

His voice was much more desperate than he expected, tan cheeks turning a shade of darker red. Criston rambled, “I, oh heavens, he would do whatever she asked, maybe, maybe, put his mouth on her.”

He must have said the right thing, her breath quickened and he could see the outline of her arm moving faster. Emboldened, Cole practically whined, “He’d lick and suck at her until she was crying and grabbing his hair, ohfuckinghellfires!” Criston’s cock throbbed and twitched as he cursed and shoved a hand down his slacks.

“Yeah? Yeah? He’d eat me out? Suck on my clit, slip some f-fingers inside? I’d want it so bad,” she whimpered shakily. The priest panted and popped the button so he could fist himself easier, moaning shamelessly, scrunching his eyes closed.

The blonde’s voice was muffled, “Mmm- I’d take such good care of him, he could e-eat me out but I’d ride his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore, F-father please!” Criston could hear her squeal and his dark hair fell into his face as he curled inward. He babbled uselessly, rubbing himself as spurt after spurt of seed wetted his briefs.

There was a heavy feeling in the confession booth. The pair panted, sitting in silence. Shame poured over Criston like a bucket of ice. He quickly rearranged himself to not look like someone who just had the most intense orgasm of his life. The priest wanted to talk, truly, but he had no words.

So he bolted, ignoring her calls of his name. Criston kept moving, heading toward the rectory, he’d have to call out. Everything was spinning and he needed to just, just, he didn’t know. The stickiness in his pants was worsening the horrid feeling of being a pervert, he should’ve just sent her away. He will end this immediately tomorrow, for both of their souls if he hasn’t doomed them.

She didn’t appear for lunch. Did appear for class, eyes blazing into Criston’s head. Daeron even coughed and shoved her. She was glaring, not writing a damn thing as he lectured about the battle of Lepanto. The priest’s palms began to sweat. He wished the clock would go quicker.

“I’ll get a ride home, don’t worry about me Dare,” she said after the bell rung, students packing up their bags. Daeron raised an eyebrow but shrugged, moving on. One girl attempted to approach Criston with some papers in hand.

The dragon hissed something and shoulder checked the girl— Criston reluctantly scolding the blonde. Like it mattered, the other girl hightailed it out of his classroom. Pale eyes landed upon his own dark orbs, a strange look on her face.

“Office,” she said. Cole wasn’t in the position to deny. He tossed and turned all night, fighting whether to say fuck it and hang up the cassock or dismiss her and never speak of it again. When she was in his presence it leaned toward the former.

Criston walked in first, closing the blinds while she followed him. The man’s head jerked up when he heard the sound of the door locking. Little Miss Targaryen was wearing a particularly form fitting version of the school uniform, tits pushed up under the white button-down. Suddenly Criston was swallowing drool.

She snapped, “Sit down.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook the senior a bit, leaning down to growl, “Do you even know what the hell you’re getting into? This could ruin us both! You aren’t going to order me around, I’m the damn adult here, I swore to your mother!” He sounded desperate, weary.

She sneered up at him, unphased, “Sit down or I’ll leave and pretend this never occurred. I know you want it, you want me,” she yanked at his white collar, “Mommy doesn’t have to know, Father.”

Why Criston was like a dog at a damn eighteen year old’s commands? He wasn’t quite sure. His tongue was glued down anyways, only huffing as he perched on the chair. She padded closer, smelling of vanilla and some other perfume. He bit off a whine when she sat on his desk, thighs spreading, giving the priest a view of her lacy skimp of underwear.

“Fucking hell baby,” he pled, hands aching to touch.

“What? You sure were enjoying yourself yesterday.”

He moaned, “We shouldn’t— this could cost us our souls. The deceiver is manipulating us, a test. I lost my wits yesterday.” Criston’s fingertips dug into his leaner thighs, eyes flicking between her pretty smirk and the peak of baby pink panties. The girl hummed sadly, faux pout setting his heart to aching something fierce.

“What if it isn’t the devil? What if I’m just a gift, for you, just for you Father,” she leaned in to his face, “Think outside your little imposed box. Don’t you feel this?” She snatched one of his hands, pressing it upon her beating heart, her soft breast.

He looked guiltily to the side. Criston whispered, “If you were a gift then why is are my feelings so wanton and lustful?”

Purple eyes rolled. She hiked the skirt up, exposing pale thighs and her cute underwear. Criston whimpered under his breath, hand still on her breast, squeezing. The girl moaned, “Chaste love, no, I think he sent me just for you, maybe you had the wrong calling?” Criston threw caution to the wind— the festering in his head grew, rotting away his senses.

He’d already fucked up. Her points were making more sense by the second. Why not enjoy life before he spent the afterlife in torment? He peered at his favorite and rasped, “Show me what to do, putting my mouth on you. Can I touch you?” The brunette internally cringed at his whiny tone. She smiled victoriously, breath delightfully hitching, manicured hands unbuttoning her top.

Criston grabbed ahold of those pretty thighs, marveling at how smooth they were as he pulled them forward until her ass was the only thing perched on his desk. She squeaked and grabbed onto his dark hair, cheeks going blotchy with pink spots. The priest figured he’d have a little instinct, something long denied festering along with his sinful thoughts.

Right now he was face to face with her cunt and Criston had lost his bravado, brown eyes peering up at her. She smirked knowing she had the upper hand again. The Targaryen laughed, “Alright, panties off first Father. Do you even know female anatomy?”

He blushed darkly, ignoring the comment and yanking down those pretty panties. They matched her bra, her breasts spilling out of the push-up with heavy breath. He stuffed the lace underwear selfishly in his pocket. Criston gritted his jaw, cock pressing painfully hard against the fly of his pants. She was glistening, swollen, something he could only conjure up and still get it wrong.

“The clit is the nub at the top,” she breathed.

Criston searched her eyes with his own, abashed at the lack of knowledge before delving his face between silky thighs. He moaned pitifully, embracing the natural scent, her hand in his curls. The man lapped at her sopping hole, excitedly delving his tongue inside, already obsessed with the sweet nectar.

“Fffuck,” she whined, thighs tensing around his neck. Criston’s nose bumped against her clitoris, reminding him of the ‘magic spot’ he’d heard girls giggle about between class changes. He licked his way upward, moaning, ignoring his own need. Pink lips sealed around her button, tentatively suckling.

The blonde jerked and mewled, “Criston, Criston, yes Father!”

He flicked his tongue against the button, big hands keeping those strong thighs from closing. She was trying to scoot away from his onslaught on her, whining and shivering. Criston pulled back to rumble, “All that talk and you’re running from my tongue now little girl?”

“M’gonna fucking cum,” she half-sobbed.

The priest wasn’t going to give up. He kept his attentions on that bundle, even slipping two fingers inside her pussy, exploring until she keened again. More and more slick covered his chin and fingers, utterly lost in this divine feeling. The blonde’s legs were shaking now, breath coming in short sobs. She babbled something, one hand white knuckling the desk, the other knotted into Criston’s hair.

He wished he could have saved her shrill cry of his name as Criston pushed the younger woman over that edge. She gushed and spasmed, finally pushing him away to settle down. Her makeup was smudged, hair a fucking mess. Cole thought she never looked prettier.

He was goddamn insane over her and he knew it. The devil long had his claws gripped into the priest. The man just lied and ignored until he couldn’t. Criston grabbed her and placed her on his thighs, cock pulsing, him reaching down to relieve pressure.

The blonde wrapped her arms round his neck, pretty pink nipples exposed now, the push-up doing nothing to help. She plastered herself to his body, lips mouthing across his neck, murmuring, “You learn quick, s’good.” Criston rubbed at her back, slipping a hand down to her a handful of her cute ass.

She pulled back, pale eyes roving Criston’s face. He stared in a daze as she spoke in a sultry, raspy tone, “You’re so hard, wanna fuck you, lemme fuck you Father.” He couldn’t help but moan long and low at her desperate plea. His cock was fit to burst, straining his briefs now.

“I want it, I want it,” he gasped.

In a flurry of movement he yanked off the collar, it would sicken him to have it on. She pulled at the buttons, pausing to unhook her bra, Criston shoving down his pants and underwear. She moaned, placing hands on his chest and sliding down trim stomach until a little hand grabbed his ruddy cock.

He made a strangled noise, eyes rolling up in his head. No wonder people did this— sin was utterly sweet. Criston panted her name, about to guide her hips onto him. He paused, brows furrowing. The deceiver himself spoke through her voice, “I’m on birth control, doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he needed to hear, roughly lifting her to guide his cock into that slick pussy. Criston made a gutted noise as she slipped onto him. Warm, wet, so goddamn snug and gently ridged. He whined, straight up whined, “Don’t move, don’t move, baby baby oh— haaah!”

She purred and pressed soft tits against Criston, their shallow breathing intermingling. The female whispered softly, petting his shoulders and arms, “S’okay, breathe, relax.”

Criston shook from head to toe, exhaling sharply, pitiful noises escaping a raw throat. He pressed his swollen lips to her forehead, forcing rapid breathing to a calmer state. Still, still, the brunettes balls throbbed and twitched.

He was gonna fuck her dammit. He’d gotten this damn far, his darkest desire to fuck and fill her up after more than two pumps would kill Cole. She teased, hands back on his chest, playing with his medals, “You can do it Father, you’re not so twitchy.”

He shook his head silently, focusing on the task at hand. Father Criston Cole could never deny his sweet little dragon. She’d started squirming and whining on his lap, slick soaking his loins. He took a tentative thrust upwards, lashes fluttering.

The dam broke loose.

Criston fucked and groped, lips messily smacking against her pretty plump pout. She rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust. The chair squeaked, they moaned, grunted, cried out, a feral quality to the sacred act. He was soaking in the slaps of skin, her hitches of breath, chanting his name like a damn litany.

Criston grabbed onto her hips, planting his feet on the floor, biting his lip and scrunching eyes tight. He was moaning and moaning, drool slipping out between searing kisses. His balls were drawing tight— pounding with the need of his release.

He shoved her upwards onto the desk, thrusting brutally as she cried in ecstasy. Criston pled, “M’gonna cum, c-can’t stop, oh fuck.” She cried, “Yesyesyes don’t you dare stop, m’close!” The older man felt his balls slapping against her ass, eyes rolling up again.

His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, Cole mouthing at perky tits, moaning as his release soaked her pussy. It was like he was floating. She bit down on her hand to muffle a wail, arching into him, cunt convulsing and wetting him further.

But Criston couldn’t stop. He kept fucking through the oversensitive pain, sounding like he was in agony as he pounded into her. Their mixed releases made everything slide easier, his turgid cock not softening. He babbled, “Not done, another baby, take it for me, take me please.”

The blonde’s only response was clinging to his tan body, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist. She sobbed harder, “Do it do it— oh my God!” Criston whined her name through his nose, drunk off the feeling, not even aware of the blasphemy.

The office grew hot, noises of flesh and high sounds filling the small space. He couldn’t shut the fuck up either, rambling, “Wet baby, can’t help myself, gotta do it, fuck it all! M’still full up, gotta stuff you baby, how can I hngh not?” He reached down between them to circle haphazardly at her abused clit, the pretty thing writhing on his dick.

Another peak was approaching, he was already leaking, ready to empty another load deep inside her eager pussy. She tightened around him as he pinched her clit, crying real tears now, his name on her tongue like a broken record. Criston wetly cried into her fragrant neck, shoving himself deep inside to give her that last load.

He made a noise, she made a noise, everything growing foggy and distant.

Next thing he recalled was his demon, angel, twisted boon cuddled in his lap, tits still out. They were a sticky mess and he hoarsely asked, “How, ugh, long?”

“A couple of minutes. You went a little dumb there and I had to get your limp ass back into this chair,” she pressed her head into his chest, Criston naturally setting his chin on her head. His hands were slowly moving up and down her flanks. He still felt a bit dumb, dazed from the intense situation.

“You,” he swallowed, “Are a gift…I believe.”

She smiled softly, pecking his lips. The Targaryen mumbled, “We need to get ourselves together, I need a ride home.” Criston nodded, clinging tighter to her frame. He stammered, “O-okay, discuss this another time?”

“Sure, but after I show you what a blow job feels like.”

He didn’t object. The collar sat out of his sight, anything he once cherished gone from his mind. She took that place. He was irrevocably, obsessively infatuated. “I’ll have to leave my position after this year,” he murmured. She looked at him, a concerned look on dainty features.

“I think I’ll be around, will you?”

He remained silent, answer obvious in the air. He’d get down on his knees again and beg to never lose this gem. Fucked up from the get-go. For once, Criston Cole didn’t care. He kissed her instead.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #priest!criston #ser criston cole imagine #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole imagine #criston cole x reader

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heyyyitsgrey · 2 years ago

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Carlisle Cullen- NSFW Alphabet

LETS GOOO- continuing my smut streak

Here you go anon, I hope this meets your expectations lmao. Once again, Carlisle isn’t my cup of tea so let’s hope this is up to par.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

This man is a god when it comes to aftercare. He knows exactly what you need and when. He is particularly fond of cuddling after sex, although if you want to do something else, that is what y'all will end up doing.

He makes it a priority after having sex that you 1) have water and 2) go to the bathroom. I mean he's a doctor STD prevention is going to be a very big thing for him. (Can vampires get STDs? Can they give them to someone else?? These are the questions we should be asking)

B = Body part (Their favorite body part and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of his body is his hands (in both a sexual manner and a non-sexual manner). He loves how you react to his touch when he trails his hands over your body.

His favorite part of your body is probably your chest. It's his favorite place to line with hickies because no one can see them when you're wearing a shirt. Plus, he can hear your heart racing easiest from your chest.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside you, but ever the gentleman, Carlisle would only ever cum inside you with your permission. Otherwise, he loves cumming all over your thighs. (He would clean it up though don't worry)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would love having you sit under his desk (either at work or home) and just be his cock warmer. Although, he wouldn't bring it up in fear of making you uncomfortable or feel exposed.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he wouldn't have that much experience, I mean before he was turned it was the 1600s (I think?), and waiting for marriage was a very big thing then. Despite his general lack of experience, he would still know how to please you.

F, = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

The obvious answer here is missionary (because his dad was a priest- get it??), but I think his favorite position would be you riding him. He likes it when you’re on top. He’d like being able to control your hip movements and how much you move. He’s a doctor, being in control in all aspects of his life is a necessity .

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

He’s probably something in between serious and goofy in the moment. When y’all are done and he’s started aftercare though- he’s completely serious until you’ve drank some water and gone to the bathroom. (It doesn’t matter if your human or not-he’ll make sure you take care of yourself)

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Like the other guys' hair growth isn't an issue for Carlisle, he'll go to you and ask what you think. Whatever you say is what he does. And yes, the carpet does match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He tries his hardest to be romantic all the time, during sex especially. He wants you to know just how much he adores you (although there’s no way for his level of adoration to be properly expressed without hours of overstimulation)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Hmmm because he grew up in the 1600’s I feel like he’d have an aversion to masturbation. He’d feel guilty jacking off but he’d love to watch you masturbate.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation is one of his biggest kinks. Turning you into a blubbering mess, crying for him to stop could get him off on its own

He’d like the idea of exhibitionism but he’d probably never bring it up to you. For example, his dirty secret of getting you to suck him off under his desk.

He’s a voyeur (he will not admit it) but only when watching you get yourself off- if you have sex with someone else mmm have fun with the aftermath of that

Temperature play would be another of his favorites. Pouring hot wax on your skin and then using his hands or a piece of ice to cool the skin around it? Oh yeah sign him up

Cock warming (is that a kink?) would be yet another thing he doesn’t bring up. But god, the idea of his cock just in you (or your mouth) not moving, for some reason it makes him hard.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His all-time favorite place would be in his office/study. Fucking you over his desk with the threat of someone walking in looming over your heads? Yeah, that’s peak sex. He’d also like to have sex in your bed in the privacy of your shared room.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

There isn’t anything specific that turns him on. You could say his name (not in a casual conversation way but in the same tone you would in bed) and he’d have a boner. OOH also bedroom eyes…give him bedroom eyes and you better start running.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you're injured that’s a hard no. The only thing you should do when injured is rest, and forget having sex. Impact play is completely off the table, the idea of you being hurt at his hand makes him sick, for god's sake he’s a doctor that’s the opposite of what he should be doing.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man would love getting head. I feel like he’d like having you on your knees, it’s a control thing. Plus, feeling you gag around his cock pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth- When you’re giving him head he’d prefer cumming in your mouth one hundred percent.

He’d love giving head. He’s pretty skilled at giving head, depending on how horny you are he could make you cum with his mouth in just a few minutes. It plays into his overstim kink, seeing how many times he can make you cum with just his mouth is like a game to this man.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Carlisle would prefer a slower pace, everything around him moves super quickly, so sex would be the one thing he wants to be slow. He gets off at a slower sensual pace. Trailing his hands all over your body, leaving trails of kisses down your body.

Q = Quickie (Their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He prefers proper sex to quickies, he wants to make sure you feel properly appreciated. However, if one or both of you need to get off before he goes to work he’s not opposed to it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He wouldn’t be one to experiment all that much. Temperature play was only brought into the picture after you thoroughly explained that the wax wouldn’t leave your skin burnt. Forget risks altogether. The most he would risk is getting caught with your and his pants down. It doesn’t matter if you're human or vampire, risk and experiment are not his thing.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Since he’s a vampire he has heightened stamina and can go on for a while. If you’re human he’ll go as long you want or can (if he’s in the mood for overstim). If you’re a vampire it’s the same situation, he’ll go until you can’t.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He only owns one toy, a vibrator. He’s never used it on himself, it’s specifically for you. He added it to his little overstimulation game, and it’s one of the best decisions he ever made.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s not that much of a tease. Most times when he teases you it’s when he’s in the middle of overstimulating you. He’ll look you in the eye and say “Come on love, one more yeah? I think you can handle one more. For me,”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not loud, nor is he all that vocal. He’s the most vocal when you're giving him head. A lot of the time, the sounds he makes are drowned out by the sounds you make.

He loves it when you moan, it is the best signal that what he’s doing is making you feel good. But, if your fucking in a place or when your not supposed to be he’ll cover your mouth. “Be quiet love. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He’s big on safe words (and say it with me now- it’s a control thing). He wants you to be comfortable at all times, so the best way to guarantee that is a safe word. Plus, when you're too fucked out for full sentences a safe word is the best way to stop.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Hmmm- he’s just slightly bigger than average. He’s not that thick. Overall, it doesn’t matter cause he can make you see stars anyway.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is slightly higher than that of a sixteen-year-old boy. (So really fucking high) If he had the time you’d fuck twice a day, but alas he doesn’t.

Z = ZZZ (…how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s a vampire, so he doesn’t have the need to sleep. If you’re a human, after you’ve gone to the bathroom and drank some water, he’ll hold you as you sleep. If you’re a vampire, after cleaning up, you’ll more likely end up cuddling.

#carlisle cullen #x reader #twilight smut #twilight headcanon #twilight #carlisle cullen smut #carlisle cullen x reader #fanfiction #xreader #carlisle cullen fanfiction

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absurdthirst · 1 month ago

Text

Thy Kingdom Cum {Priest!Ezra x Nun!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Blasphemy, inaccuracies with nuns/religious inaccuracies, religious guilt, lust, desire, demonic possession, dark intentions, sexual corruption, loss of innocence, virgin reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, derogatory language, sex in a confessional, cock riding, pregnancy, mentions of prophesy, end of times, unnatural childbirth, death

Comments: The new priest's arrival to your parish has you doubting your commitment to God.

A/N: Spooky season demands horror.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Ezra (Prospect) MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You remember the day you first met him. The new priest. You were just finishing up your prayers when he strode in, a wide grin on his face, and your fellow nuns looked up at him from their bibles. Your eyes widened and your first thought was how handsome he is. His dark eyes are gorgeous and your stomach clenched. You immediately looked back down at your bible, asking God for forgiveness for your lust.

“Praise be to God for such a beautiful sight for sinful eyes.” Ezra smiles as he takes in the sight of the nuns bent over in prayer, his eyes flashing slightly before they settle into a benevolent expression. “Forgive my brash introduction, my name is Ezra. I believe that the Monsignor has assigned this flock to be guided by my firm and loving hand.”

You shouldn’t be feeling this way. The tightening in your stomach, the wetness between your thighs, but his presence has forever changed you. When you joined the abbey, you prayed for happiness, for peace away from your violent father, and sought refuge in the only place you could run to without money. You were prepared to dedicate your life and your body to God. You were ready to sacrifice your dream of marriage and children in pursuit of a holier purpose. This man arriving has put your decision in doubt. He left the circle of women, striding off with the bishop to see his new quarters. Your friend, Natalia, looked over at you with raised eyebrows but you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of your lustful thoughts. It’s a sin.

****

It’s been a few days since Father Ezra arrived and you have been working hard with the children in the school. You teach the younger ones reading and writing skills and you are heading back to your room when you bump into him. Literally. “Father Ezra. Apologies. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You confess, lowering your hand from his chest as you step back to look at him.

“Do not worry about extending apologies, little bird.” Ezra hums, nodding to with a charming smile that he knows lowers defenses. “A humble mistake is not any reason to fret. Where are you off to in such a hurry?” It might be considered ungentlemanly to ask, but even though he is a man of the cloth, Ezra has never considered himself a gentleman. He is too raw for that. “Needing some time on your knees?”

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry as you imagine sinking down to your knees in front of him. “Ye-yes. I must pray today. My thoughts have been…sinful.” You confess, “I need to pray and ask for forgiveness, Father.” You admit, unable to stop yourself from looking up at him from under your lashes.

Ezra frowns, feigning concern as he leans closer, cupping your elbow. “My child, do you wish to confess?” He asks, his voice slipping low and taking on a seductive tone. “Releasing you from your ….. burdens always makes them seem insignificant once you are sated, purged of the sin.”

Your mouth drops open at the tone of his voice and it’s seductive, making your stomach twist and your cunt clench. This is wrong. So wrong. “I- I cannot confess what I am feeling when I have not felt it before, Father. I must - I must go.” You choke out, ripping your elbow from his grip and you rush down the hall. When you arrive at your door, you slam it behind you and rush over to the bed, pushing your dress up, your fingers slip beneath the elastic of your panties and you cover your mouth to stop your moan when your fingers brush your clit. “God forgive me.” You plead into your palm as you imagine Ezra’s fingers inside you.

If you had turned around, you would have seen Ezra’s eyes turn black as night, the whites of his eyes gone. The demon inside chuckling at the confusion and turmoil brewing inside you. “That is my little bird.” He hums to himself, knowing you are perfect. Blinking and his eyes change back to normal, adopting a peaceful smile as he continues to walk down the hall past your room just in time to hear your muffled moan.

****

Your fingers grip your skirt as you sit in the pew, Father Ezra is giving his sermon to the congregation and you can't help but focus on his thick fingers as he gestures while he speaks. His voice is deep, slightly raspy from the damp that lingers in the church, and you squeeze your thighs together. You shouldn't feel this way but he's haunted you. The way he smells as he passes you in the hall. The chuckle that vibrates through you. The dark eyes that seem to see right through you. You have touched yourself and begged the Lord to forgive you.

“Have you gotten on your knees today?” Ezra asks the crowd of church goers, but his eyes focus on the rows that house the nuns. Searching for one in particular. Watching as your shoulders curl in shame. He has not seen you in confession, nor heard your voice. He would know if you had been in there, he had volunteered to take every shift lately, just to see if you would confess. “Have you laid yourself bare for the Holy Spirit to enter you?”

A squeak escapes your lips and Natalia looks over at you, her eyebrows raised, and you shake your head, focusing on the wooden pew in front of you. Ezra's words made your cunt clench and you nearly rip your skirt as you try to focus on the Lord and not on his mouthpiece who is making you feel hot under your headpiece.

“You should be Lord’s vessel. Let him fill you. Take pleasure from it.” Ezra’s lips curl when your eyes widen and your head dips lower. Imagining the dirty thoughts that are flowing through your innocent mind. The audience nods along, and he hums. “To do so will bring you joy, such joy that you will be screaming to the heavens.”

You swallow harshly, shifting on the uncomfortable wooden pew, and you imagine Ezra looming above you, making you scream. Your impure thoughts should make the Lord strike you here and now, but you remain in your place, imagining dirty things while Ezra’s voice echoes in your ears.

He sees you squirm, satisfied that he has curled under your skin and poked at the awakening desires that you have long tamped down. He knows his face is appealing, his body - though it is clothed in the boring robes of a priest - is fit and healthy. He is attractive and he knows how to use that against you. “There is no shame in seeking out the Lord.” He coos. “Come closer and you will be rewarded.”

It seems to take forever but soon, Ezra is stepping down from the pulpit and shaking the hands of the congregation while the nuns stand and greet other worshippers. Some children from the school are with their parents and a couple come over to you with their son, Victor. “Oh Victor comes home and rambles on and on about his favorite teacher.” His mom coos and you smile, “he’s a wonderful student. We are lucky to have him.” His mom tuts, “the children are lucky to have you- oh, Father. Please, you must hear this. Victor simply adores his favorite teacher. You must ensure she is rewarded somehow.”

Ezra smiles, his eyes alight with delight as he takes the woman’s hand and holds it in his. “Of course I will.” He winks at Victor, who frowns at the priest. He doesn’t like Ezra, although he is always told to hush when he says such things. Ezra says your name breezily; his tongue rolling over the letters like honey. “-is a fine nun. One of my best.” He adds, looking towards you. “So giving, so obedient.”

You barely suppress your shiver at his words and he leans a little closer to you or did you imagine that? “I try to serve the Lord as best I can.” You offer Victor and his parents a smile before they bid you goodbye, leaving you with Father Ezra. “That was very nice of you, Father.” You murmur, keeping your gaze across the room until you turn to look at him and those dark eyes capture you in their depths.

He tilts his head in curiosity. “You do not think you deserve a reward?” He asks, surprised by the fact you had not leapt at the chance. “No.” You shake your head and he tuts. “Everyone deserves rewards for their good deeds.” He purrs, reaching for your hand and clasping it between his. Despite looking completely innocent to the others passing by, his finger strokes your palm gently.

You inhale shakily, your eyes on his as he smiles softly. “I do not deserve a reward. I have sinned. I need a punishment. I think…I wish to confess to my sins, Father.” You murmur and his smile turns into a smirk, “I shall be in the booth in ten minutes.” You nod, hands hot when he releases one of them, and he makes his way through the crowd. Your heart is pounding and you know you need to confess so you may repent for your lustful thoughts.

Ezra slides into the booth, ignoring taking sacrament for himself like he always does and opens the door that connects the confessional. Eagerly awaiting your arrival to hear what sins you have committed.

You watch as the congregation leaves and you inhale deeply as you make your way to the booth. It appears that no one wants to confess today so you are alone when you pull the curtain aside and settle on the hard bench. You make a cross on your chest and close your eyes, “bless me Father for I have sinned. It’s been three weeks and two days since I last confessed.” Funnily enough, that was the same time Ezra arrived.

“That is a long time, little bird.” Ezra tuts softly, noting that you had confessed right before he had arrived. “Surely your sins are not so great as to be such a burden on your shoulders. Tell me of them.”

Your stomach twists and you fidget on the seat. “I- I have lustful thoughts. Constantly. I see - I see this man and it’s - it’s like I cannot control myself. I find myself getting…getting wet and I dream about him. I wake up aching and I have to relieve myself. I have sinned by touching myself. I feel like I’m out of control. Driven by lust and I need relief. I need God to take these feelings away from me so I can focus on being Godly, on being a good girl.”

“What do you imagine doing with this man?” He asks, his voice slipping lower as he leans into the screen. “What have you imagined doing to him, or him to you that would inspire such actions?”

His deep voice makes you shiver and you lean closer to the screen that separates you from him. “I imagine…him touching me. Me touching him.” You confess with an almost whisper. “Touching?” He hums and you swallow, “I think about kneeling down and-” Ezra smirks but you can’t see, “and?” You inhale shakily, “taking his penis into my mouth. I imagine him touching me. Squeezing my - my breasts and sliding his hand into my pa-panties.” You manage to squeak out.

Ezra’s cock twitches, smirking to himself as he hums. “You imagine this man having sex with you?” He asks. “Carnal lust? Have you ever sinned like this before or are you pure?” It’s simply to know, to see if you will tell him the truth. He knows you are innocent and he likes that.

You grip your skirt in your fingers, almost ripping the material as you confess softly, “I am pure. I- I imagine him having sex with me. Taking me like - like a whore.” You admit, “please forgive me.” You rush out, knowing you shouldn’t be feeling like this.

“It is not my place to forgive you, or judge you.” He reminds you. “I am just as flawed as you. Burdened by the same temptations of the flesh.” He licks his lips. “Pleasure was created by God. We are made in his image. So God must understand our lust.”

You nod, agreeing with Father Ezra, "so what do I do? I took a vow, pledged myself to the Lord and I am struggling to maintain that vow. The devil beckons me to the darkness and I am slipping, the temptation is too much." You confess breathlessly.

“You must spend time with this man.” Ezra councils. “Learn that he is flawed like you. Spend as much time with him as you can. Acclimate to your desires.”

You nod despite him not being able to see you. "Father...if that is your suggestion, may we begin bible study together? I wish to spend time with you." You confess your attraction to him with burning cheeks but you need to quell the desire you have for him.

Ezra makes a faux sound of surprise, as if he was unaware of your thoughts towards him. “Little bird, come to my quarters tonight.” He urges you. “Together we will conquer this temptation.”

You sigh a little in relief, “I will bring my bible and my rosary, Father.” You promise and you don’t see the grin on his face as he dismisses you. The rest of the day seems to drag and you are reprimanded by the abbess until you are finished with your work. You exhale shakily as you make your way down the halls to Father Ezra’s quarters. Bible in hand as you knock on his door.

Ezra opens the door, a small smile on his face as he greets you. “Come in.” He motions you inside his apartment and closes the door behind you. His frock has been set aside, dressed in casual clothes as he moves towards the small kitchen. “Would you like some tea?” He offers.

You glance around at his place, so much bigger than your shared room, and you nod, "that would be lovely." You set your bible down on the table and he gestures for you to sit. You go to pull out the chair but he shakes his head, "sit on the sofa. Much more comfortable." Your stomach twists and you take a seat, adjusting your skirt.

Ezra busies himself, pouring the tea that he had already made and brings two cups over to the sofa to sit beside you. “So. I think we should address the elephant in the room.” He chuckles quietly, setting the cups down on the coffee table and he puts his hand on your knee. “You are sexually attracted to me.” He hums bluntly. “And I find you to be a most ravishing creature, fueling impure thoughts as I stroke my cock at night.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him, his face calm and neutral as he speaks and your cunt clenches at the dark look in his eye that gives away his desires. “Tell me about them.” You plead breathlessly, wanting to hear more from his lips.

He nods seriously, even though he is giddy that you are playing into his hands. His thumb brushes your knee gently, moving up slightly under your skirt. “Your bare body, spread out for me to worship. That’s what I would be doing. Worshiping you with my tongue, my lips. Tasting your sex and licking you until you are weeping my name.” His voice is set at a low growl, watching you intently as he speaks. “Sucking at your breasts, kissing your lips, covering you with my seed.”

You whimper, unable to stop yourself, and you watch him as he licks his lips almost as if he’s tasting you already. “God forgive me.” You choke, shifting to stand up but his grip on your knee tightens, “God will forgive you. This is natural, little bird. You are Eve. I am Adam.” He murmurs, leaning closer and you breathe him in. “It’s natural.” You repeat his reasoning, “it’s how it should be.” You murmur, eyes flicking down to his lips. “The way God intended.” Ezra hums and you choke, “God forgive us.” You gasp and surge forward, pressing your lips to his.

Ezra groans in triumph, pulling you close as your lips collide with his. It’s inelegant, unpracticed, but that just makes the sensation even more intoxicating. Feeling your breath catch in your throat when his tongue slides along your lips, your gasp gives him the access he craves. Devouring your innocence and stripping it away from you. Your breasts are pressed against his chest and he immediately pulls off your veil, uncovering your hair and running his hands over it possessively.

You moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping his shirt in a desperate need to get closer to him. His tongue slides against yours and you desperately want to be good for him. To please him like he’s God himself. Your hands caress his chest, eager to touch every part of him you can reach.

Ezra licks into your mouth for a long moment, until you are panting and he pulls away. “Get on your knees for me, little bird.” He coos, stroking your cheek and running his thumb over your lips. “Your wish of sucking my cock will come true. The supplication of your mouth shall make your cunt drip like a river of honey.”

You know you should get up and leave but you can’t. It’s like something is holding you there and you can’t help yourself. You shift onto your knees, eager for him and you watch as he chuckles, reaching for his belt.

Ezra smirks as he flicks the leather out of the loops of his pants. “My little bird, on her knees waiting for me to fill her mouth.” He coos, pulling the belt free and then unbuttoning his trousers to unzip them.

You have never seen a naked man in real life. You’ve seen photos, art mainly, and your eyes widen when you see his cock. He’s thick and the tip of him is red as he hardens in front of your face. “Tell me what to do.” You demand, wanting to please him.

Reaching for your hand, he helps you wrap your fingers around his length. Groaning your name as he moves it up down his shaft slowly. “Just like this.” He instructs. “Firmly. Feel how hard I am for you?”

You watch in rapture, feeling the hot velvety length of his cock in your grip and you want to please him. Your panties are slick, almost uncomfortable as you look up at him. “I did this to you?” You ask, biting your lower lip as you try to concentrate.

“You have brought me to this point of aching need.” He groans, nodding.

You whimper at his words, leaning forward, “I want to taste you.” You naively wrap your lips around the head, surprised at the salty taste, but you hum, enjoying it and his reaction as his chest heaves.

Ezra grits his teeth together, his fingers curling around your hair and he barely resists pulling it. “That’s it, little bird.” He hisses through his teeth, narrowing his vision on where you are lapping at the tip innocently.

“Supplicate yourself like a whore. Open your mouth wider and worship my cock like it is your god.”

Your cunt clenches at his words and you open your mouth wider, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. You moan, closing your eyes but his voice snaps at you, “eyes on me.” You look up at him and inhale sharply, nearly choking on him when you see his eyes flash black for a brief moment until they return back to the deep brown. His hand caresses your cheek and you focus on his cock again, gripping the length you can’t fit into your mouth.

He can smell how wet you are. “You dreamed of this, little bird. Serving me like this. On your knees like the common whore you want to be. Your pretty little untouched cunt weeping for my cock to fill it.” He groans, smirking down at you. “Hmmm, that’s right. I know you want me to stretch you out on my cock. Ruin you. Make you ache while you say your Hail Mary’s.”

You moan around his cock, knowing you should be struck for thinking these things let alone doing them. You'd be dripping onto the floor if you weren't wearing panties. You grip his cock a little harder and he hisses, making you loosen your grip.

“No.” Ezra grunts, grabbing your chin and squeezing. “Don’t let up.” He urges you. “Your mouth would bring me to my knees if I were standing. Such innocent debauchery.”

His words have your heartbeat sounding in your ears and you feel like you’re on fire. You moan around him and squeeze his cock again. When you take him too deep, you choke, spit flying as you sputter and he tuts, “you can do it, little bird.” You catch your breath and take him back into your mouth.

He watches in rapture as your throat stretches around him. Sliding his hand down to feel the bulge of your neck and groaning your name filthily. “No greater beauty to witness than your sin.”

His words make you whimper around him and you slide your hand down to cup his balls, acting on instinct, and you moan when he tilts his head back, displaying his neck as he groans. You want to taste him. All of him.

The sound that pour out of his mouth are filthy; worthy of any porno that could be produced and he starts to rock his hips up. “Just a cock hungry little whore, aren’t you?” He growls, gripping your shoulder as he leans back. “Singing praises to god but daydreaming about drinking my cum down with that same mouth.”

You want him to fall apart for you, to spill down your throat, to fill you with your sins. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you don’t get a warning when he lets out a strangled cry as he starts to cum. Hot spurts of seed hit the back of your throat and you struggle to swallow as he grabs the back of your head to keep you in place.

His growls are feral, dark. Eyes closed so you don’t see the darkness inside him. Enjoying the way your throat closes around him. Drinking him down and gasping around his length when you are overwhelmed by how much he is cumming.

You sputter as it becomes too much, cum dripping down your chin, and you look up at him as his fist clenched and his grip on your neck starts to hurt. “Father.” You gasp when he pulls his cock from your mouth, “Ezra.”

“Now it is your turn, little bird.” He smirks, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet to drag you towards his bed. Unlike the ones in the nun’s rooms, he has a full sized bed so there is more room to stretch out.

You stumble as he drags you until he spins you and pushes you down on the bed. Your body is heated, desperate for him to strip you down and ruin you. You’re already sinned. You are all in. “Ezra.” You gasp when his hands drag the shift from your body.

You are his. Ezra hums as he looks down on you. His hands sliding over your body greedily. Gorging himself on the feel of your flesh beneath his hands. “More beautiful than the heavens.” He coos softly. “Surely your body was created by a being of pleasure.”

His words wash over you and you shiver under his touch, “we are all created in His image.” You murmur, eyes opening to look up as he looms above you. He looks like an angel and devil all wrapped in one and you are prepared to let him destroy you.

His own clothes are shredded from his frame. Eager to debase you, defile you. He wraps his hand around his still softened cock and squeezes it. “Now you must learn why the church forbids making love with your mouth.” He smirks. “Because no one would want to stop.”

You watch as he kneels on the bed and almost slithers up your legs like the snake who seduced Eve and you can understand her when Ezra settles between your legs. His dark eyes trail along your body and he pushes your thighs apart. "Don't be embarrassed, little bird. You are made from Him. You are mine." He groans and leans closer to nudge your folds with his nose. Looking up at you with a smirk and your chest heaves at the shine on the tip of his aquiline nose. "Shit." You curse, unable to find the words.

He watches as he opens his mouth and slowly devours you. Taking your cunt into his mouth like he is biting into the juiciest peach. Groaning at your silky innocence. The surprise in your eyes when the sublime sensation of his tongue slides through your folds for the first time. He hums as he teases you with the slow, luxurious assault.

You can't stop the moan that escapes your lips if you try. Your back arches as a wetness you've never experienced between your legs makes you cry out. He's slow and methodical, making you whimper in response. "Ezra." You gasp, when he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit.

He chuckles and pulls away just long enough to see a pout starting to form on your lips. “Father Ezra.” He corrects, lips twisting into a wicked grin. “My dear, sweet sister.”

His words, albeit innocent in another context, make you shudder with lust. So devilish. "Father Ezra." You moan, "please." You beg, needing his mouth back on your clit.

“As you command.” He winks at you and starts to devour you again. This time making it filthy. Pulling sounds from your cunt by the slide of his tongue and adding his own sounds to make it sound even more wicked.

He sucks on your fold, pulling it up and you whine at the sensation. It's more than you've ever done to yourself when you guiltily slid your hand into your panties at night when Natalia slept. Your fingers on one hand tangle in his hair while the other hand squeezes your breast, lost in the pleasure.

You give yourself completely over to the sensations, to the sin of lust. Making Ezra growl as he pushes his tongue inside your cunt, his nose pressed to your clit as he spears the muscle inside you.

You have read about heaven in so many ways but never have you read about reaching heaven before death. On a man's tongue. You swear you see angels as he laps deep inside your pussy and sends you soaring. "Oh God." You gasp, thighs squeezing his head and he pulls back for a second, "God ain't here, little bird. I am." He smirks before he dives back in and his sinful nature makes your stomach clench. "Fuck." You curse, the word feeling foreign but so right for the moment.

He smirks into your sex, knowing that soon enough you will be crying out that word again and again. When he fills you with his cock and actually fucks you. Claiming you for himself and stealing you from God. Now, he grips your hips and eats your cunt like he is starved for it. Pushing you closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue.

You feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest but in the best way. You tug on his hair, pushing him impossibly further into your sex and he growls, the vibrations making your eyes roll into the back of your head. "Ez- Father Ezra!" You cry, panting as you fall apart for him, his tongue squashed by your clenching walls as you shake for him.

Your cunt gushes for him. Flooding his mouth, his face, with your juices. Gifting hun with the rewards of making you cum just like he had earlier. His cock is hard again, pressing against the bed and leaking all over the sheets as he works you through your first orgasm by another person.

You sigh in bliss, feeling boneless, and Ezra smirks as he looks up at you. “Good, little bird?” You nod, “so good. I- I want more.” You declare, greedy for him, for the pleasure you’ve denied yourself for so long.

He grins, triumphant and eager to slide inside you before you change your mind. He nods and slithers back up your body, kissing your lips and letting you taste yourself.

You grab his cheeks, sliding your tongue against his, and you feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh as he hovers over you. “Make me yours. Take what belongs to you.” You demand, wanton as the pleasure lingers.

The permission granted, Ezra growls your name, moving his hand between your bodies to position himself at your virgin entrance. “Mine, little bird. Your wings are clipped and in my cage you shall remain.”

His words make you moan and he starts to push himself into you. Your moan turns into a gasp, slightly pained, as he starts to stretch you out. “Oh God.” You murmur, closing your eyes as you try to breathe.

“God isn’t here.” He reminds you, voice raspy and dark. He feels the resistance your body give, pausing for a second before he snaps his hips forward and buries himself to the hilt.

Your cry of pain is swallowed by him when he surges down to press his lips to yours. “It’s okay, little bird.” He promises, pecking your lips, and you whimper into his mouth while his hand caresses your slide, sliding up to squeeze your breast.

You feel like a glove, hot and tight around him. Fitted to his cock perfectly. Ezra groans your name. “Perfection.” He praises breathlessly. “You are the epitome of perfection. Exactly as you were intended, impaled on my cock and filled with me.”

You moan at his words, dripping in lust and sin, and you are his now. Your vow to God long forgotten as you clench around his cock, adjusting to the foreign feel of his thickness stretching you out. “Corrupt me. Ruin me.” You beg, lifting your legs to push on his ass with your heels.

He smirks as he starts to move. Hearing exactly what he wanted to hear coming out of your mouth. He grunts, filth starting to pour out of him as he rocks his hips. “Such a tight little cunt. Squeezing around my cock. A natural slut, just begging for me to fuck you, aren’t you? Yeah, you’re my slut now.”

You whimper, unable to stop yourself as you nod, “yes. Yes. Yours. Please, Father Ezra. Take what is yours.” You plead pathetically, losing your dignity as he thrusts into you. You whine when he pushes deep and your hands slide along his back, “I’m yours.”

Ezra loses himself in you. Your whimpers and whines of pleasure spur him on. Pumping deep and hard into your tight cunt and loving the way your body takes him. He growls in your ear, bites along your jaw and hisses in pleasure when your walls flutter around him.

You can do nothing but submit to him. Letting him use your body for his pleasure. His cock pushes deep and you whimper when he kisses along your jaw. “Oh God.” You gasp when he lowers his hips and pelvis rubs against your clit.

He chuckles and bites your lip. “Better than god, my sweet little one.” He coos. “God doesn’t make you feel like this.”

“N-no. He doesn’t. Have never felt like this before. Shit. It’s so good. Sinning feels so good.” You confess against his chin, moaning his name again. “Faith has never made me feel like my body is on fire.”

“It can’t.” He agrees. “It’s too selfish to provide you with pleasure like this.” He leans down and kisses you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth while his hand slips between your bodies. Eager to feel you cum on his cock.

His fingers on your clit has you clenching around his cock, your moan swallowed by his tongue, and your nails scratch down his back. He rocks into you, his fingers rubbing your clit, and you are so close. The same feeling you've experienced when you've sinned in your bed in the middle of the night. This is more intense than that. "Fuck." You moan, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pushes deep and it only takes another swipe of his fingers before you fall apart beneath him.

His grin twists wickedly. Grunting in satisfaction as your walls quiver around him, soaking him in squelching gushes. “That’s it. That’s it, girl.” He growls, pulling his hand away to brace his weight over you. His other hand pushing one of your legs back towards your stomach.

Your mouth is open but no noise comes from you as he continues thrusting into you. Your breath is stolen from you when he growls, pushing deep, and he starts to pulse inside you. "Fill me. Destroy me. Claim me." You gasp, needing to feel him.

Ezra hisses, the sound inhuman as he pounds into you. “You’re mine.” He promises. “Until the end of time, you are mine. Not God’s. Never God’s. MINE!” With a roar, he pushes deep, painting your womb with his seed and grunting harshly as he buried his face in your neck.

Your mind is blank to anything but Ezra. Your body belongs to him and you moan his name when he kisses down your neck. “I’m yours. Yours. Only yours.” You vow as he rocks himself through his orgasm. You caress his back, trying to come back to yourself as you feel boneless.

He knows that your womb has been filled. His mission has been accomplished and there is no way for you to turn back now. Ezra kisses your lips again and smirks.

You relax beneath him, mind whirling with the pleasure and the lust you feel for the man above you. He pulls back and you offer him a lazy smile, eyes still glazed over. “Can we do that again?” You ask breathlessly, wanting to have him inside you, making you see heaven, over and over again.

“As many times as you want.” He hums. Twitching inside you. “The craving for more will just grow as time goes on. The need for it will become addictive.”

You caress his back and hum, knowing you’ll want him again and again. “God help me.” You giggle, knowing you’ve unleashed a monster that will crave him now.

****

“Fuck, Ez. Keep - keep going.” You cry out, gripping his headboard as he pushes into you from behind. It’s been a week of sneaking into his quarters at night. Lust driving your thoughts and actions, making you think about him during bible study. Watching him as he gives his homily. Wet as his eyes meet yours. “That’s it, little bird. Take it. Take what I give you.” He growls, his fingers digging into your hips. It doesn’t take long for you to fall apart, Ezra following you as he fills you up with his hot seed.

****

“Father. I’d like to confess.” You murmur to Ezra once he finishes bidding the congregation goodbye after the mass. “I have sinned.”

Ezra adopts a very concerned look as he glances around, touching your elbow and guiding you away from where the altar boys are extinguishing the candles. “My sweet sister, I cannot believe that you have done anything to warrant such a statement.” He murmurs ironically since you had listened to his sermon with his cum crusting your pussy, dripping into your panties.

You let him guide you over to the booth and you smirk knowing that no one is watching. “Come, unburden yourself.” Ezra says as you settle into the booth and he sits on the other side, opening the door that separates the booths. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” You confess, looking at him with wide eyes. “Tell me what you have done, sweet sister.” He murmurs and you smirk, standing up and shifting to straddle him. “I have taken a man inside me. Over and over again. I crave his cock. His pleasure. I want him to fill me again and again until I can’t take it anymore. I want him to fuck me like he’s fucked me so many times.” You lean in to kiss his jaw between your words.

He chuckles quietly, running his hands down and squeezing your ass as he rocks you on top of his cock. “Is that so?” He hums, turning and pressing his lips to yours. “Why have you turned so craven, sister? What inspires you to want this man?”

“His smile. His eyes. His laugh. His strong arms. His intelligence. His fingers. His tongue. His cock.” You grin, grinding down onto him as you slide your tongue along his lower lip, knowing you could be caught but you don’t care.

Ezra groans. So pleased with your dive into pleasure. You have become so addicted to the carnal lust that swims between you. Every day his cock pounds into you, sometimes with his hand over your mouth to keep from screaming too loudly. “And does he want you just as much?” He asks with a smirk.

“I like to think so.” You murmur, kissing his upper lip, “unless his hard cock is because he’s thinking of someone else.” You reach down between you to squeeze his cock through his pants.

“No one else could occupy my thoughts.” He twitches against your palm and he rocks his hips up. “You should get on your knees and repent for your sin.” He grunts, leaning in and kissing you. “Reciting your catechisms with your mouth full.”

You peck his lips, “there’s no room in here unless I am outside the booth. I want you inside me. Now.” You fumble with his belt, wanting him to fuck you. Cum inside you again. Let me repent with you inside me, I can give you my Hail Mary’s.”

He chuckles, not stopping you and his hands slide under your habit. “No underwear.” He tuts, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Someone was thinking of sinning when they dressed.”

You moan when his fingers slide through your folds and you rock down onto his digits as you snake your hand into his pants to pull his hard cock out. “What got you so hard, Father?” You coo playfully, leaning in to kiss his jaw.

“A sinner.” He pants, twitching in your grip. “A filthy little whore who pretends to be so pious, so godly.” He chuckles. “She is depraved.”

You giggle, kissing along his jaw, “I am depraved. Thinking about you all the time. Have me addicted to you, Father Ezra. I’m your whore. Your sinner.” You tease as you squeeze him and shift your hips higher, “let me ride you.”

Ezra nods, turning and kissing your chin as you position yourself. Groaning your name quietly as you sink down on him. The familiar heat of your pussy surrounding him and squeezing him tight.

“Shit.” You curse as he stretches you out. You are breathless every time he is inside you and you caress his chest over his shirt, sliding your hands up to his dog collar. “A man of the cloth.” You scoff, “you enjoy being inside me. Taking what you want. Fuck God.” You whisper harshly.

He chuckles wickedly. “You have no idea, sweetheart.” He coos, eyes flashing inky black for a moment but you don’t notice, too entranced by how his cock shreds up inside your tight cunt.

You grip his collar as you start to move, grinding down onto his cock with a muffled moan as you kiss his jaw. “Jesus.” You murmur, now unable to hold yourself back from cursing the Lord. He’s unleashed something from inside you and you can’t put it back in its place. Your vow to God has been forgotten as you worship Ezra and his body.

He surges up and presses his lips to yours, not wanting hear that name from your mouth right now. He would rather swallow your moans and feel your body shake in pleasure that he promises you, right here in this confessional.

You know you could be caught right here in the confessional but you don’t care. You grind down onto his cock, moaning when he hits deep, and you whimper when he rocks his hips up into you. “Oh God. Yes.” You hiss, reaching for his hand to bring it under your bunched up skirt to push his digits against your clit.

He growls, biting down on your lip and hissing as he starts to rub. Wanting to feel you come apart on his cock. Wanting to feel the heat of your orgasm.

You surge forward to press your lips to his, wanting to smother your cry as your walls flutter around his cock. He’s so good inside you and you can’t seem to get enough of him. He hisses as you start to cum, jerking on top of him as you clamp down on his cock.

The couplings have been so fierce, so wild that Ezra starts to cum right after you do. Filling you up again and moaning into your mouth.

You feel him twitch inside you and you cup his cheeks, keeping him close as you rock your hips to ride through your orgasm. You love it. The feeling of bliss. The blankness in your mind. It’s addictive. He’s addictive. “I love you.” You breathe into his mouth, unable to stop yourself.

He had been waiting for you to say that. Feeling the shift in your emotions, the way you kiss him. He pulls back and gives you the very best performance of his life. “Little bird, I love you.” He whispers breathlessly. “I have no yearning for the cloth like I once did. Only you have consumed my thoughts, my actions.” He leans in and kisses you again. “You have consumed my heart.”

You smile, heart pounding at his confession, and you love it. You love him. You caress his cheek down to his neck and you look at him. “I have to go. I have Sunday school to handle this afternoon. I’ll sneak into your room later?” You whisper and he nods, making you grin. You peck his lips and shift off his cock and you adjust your habit. “Gonna have your cum dripping down my thighs all day.” You wink as you sneak from the booth, rushing through the halls to your duties.

Ezra returns to his rooms later, after listening to more confessions and taking a stroll around the grounds. Everything is going perfect and he needs to convince you to leave the church, knowing the head nun will soon grow suspicious, your roommate already is. She had voiced her concerns in the confessional booth earlier, believing it to be the other priest behind the screen. He needs you to leave with him.

****

You bite your lip as you hold up the strip. You’d barely managed to sneak out to buy the test when you’d missed your period for the third month in a row. The first two months you’d put it down to stress and then prayed you were wrong. You aren’t stupid. You’ve been having sex with Ezra and you haven’t been using protection or birth control. You were naive and stupid and now you’re suffering the consequences. You clean up and rush to Ezra’s quarters, knocking on his door. He opens it and you push inside, “we need to talk.” You spit out and he tilts his head, not saying a word as he waits for you to continue and you swallow, heart pounding as you spit out “I’m pregnant.”

He has been waiting for this, closing the door behind you and shooting you a grin. “Pregnant?” He asks breathlessly, not upset, but elated. “My sweet little bird is carrying a bundle of joy?” He moves over to you and scoops you up into his arms. “You are perfect. Utterly perfect in every conceivable way.” He gushes. “We must make arrangements for our little one. Great plans.”

You are surprised that he isn’t angry, that he’s not cursing you for being so careless. “Ezra, my love, do you - you aren’t mad at me?” You ask, palms resting on his chest and you lean back to look up at him. “Mad? Why would I be mad?” He asks and you swallow harshly, “we-well, we - we have broken our vows to the church. They are going to find out and we will - we will be exiled. Is that what you wished? You’ll lose your home, your job. We have been reckless and selfish. We have betrayed God.”

“God does not matter.” Ezra shakes his head and pulls you close. “You love me, yes?” You nod, still looking confused and he smirks slightly, leaning in to kiss you again. “Then what we have done is not betraying God.” He reasons. “We have created a new life. We have been fruitful and we will multiply. I- I come from a wealthy family.” He reveals. “We will leave the church and have our child. All will be as it should.”

You nod, knowing the bishop will curse you but you know in your heart that this is God’s plan for you. You kiss Ezra, caressing his face, and you pull back to offer him a smile. “Our baby. Our life together.” You murmur and he grins, nudging your nose with his. “We shall leave tonight. I have a family home we can escape to. Go pack your things, little bird. We shall leave at midnight and begin our new life together.” You nod, “I’ll be ready.” He smacks your ass over your habit and you giggle, spinning out of his arms to go pack.

When you slip out of his room, Ezra starts to chuckle. “Everything has happened as it should.” He says to the empty room. His reflection in the mirror is far different from what you see when you look at him. You would have screamed and fainted at the sight. “Have the others prepare the house for our arrival. She must be comfortable while she carries.”

You rush back to your room and begin to pack, shoving your things under your bed so you can grab your bag later. You are anxious and nervous when you slide into bed and you watch the clock as it ticks on your desk. Natalie fidgets in her sleep and when the clock hits 11:59pm you are shoving your duvet aside to get out of bed. You’re fully dressed and you kneel down to grab your bag. Excitement twists in your stomach and you reach for the door handle when you hear Natalie say “I hope he’s worth it.” You turn to look at her, “he is. I love him. I’m having his baby.” She gasps and sits up in bed. “May God forgive you.” She says as you sneak out into the hall, gripping your bag as you head to the meeting point Ezra gave you.

Ezra smiles when you appear in the gardens. “I have spoken discreetly to my family.” He informs you as you rush into his arms. “There is a lake house waiting for us. We can stay there for as long as we wish. It’s a beautiful spot for you to rest while you grow our child.”

You are so excited, letting him guide you through the gardens to the door that will let you escape from the abbey. You take a deep breath and let Ezra guide you from the life you’ve always known.

****

You sit on the porch, rubbing your bump as you look out at the lake. The sun is shining and you are due any day now. The months you’ve spent with Ezra in the lake house have solidified your love for him. Every day you wake up to him around you, his lips on your skin, and you can’t believe how happy he makes you. “How are you doing, little bird?” He asks as he steps onto the porch. You look over at him and smile, “all good. He’s kicking like crazy. I can’t wait to meet him.” You murmur, looking down at your bump.

“Soon enough.” He hums, holding out the cup of tea that has become a ritual for you to have. Since giving up your vow to God, you often wear shorts and a tank top, showing off more skin than you would ever show in your life in the nunnery. He sits down beside you and reaches over to caress your breast and then your stomach, smirking slightly. “They are feeling firm, milk is starting to come.”

You giggle, “you are insatiable. You’ll have me knocked up as soon as you can after this one is born.” You tease and Ezra chuckles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “damn, you got me.” You place your hand over his and turn to look at him. “I don’t regret leaving. I don’t regret you. This. Us.” You softly kiss his lips, “I’ve never been so happy.”

“Good.” He looks into your eyes lovingly. “It is important to me, little bird. You and our child are my entire life.” He smiles. “My sweet, filthy little nun.”

You smirk, kissing his lips, until you pull back and have a sip of your tea. You’ll be having the baby soon and you will have a part of you and Ezra to adore.

****

“Fuck!” You cry, the pain almost taking your breath away as you bend over the bed. “Little bird? The midwife is here.” Ezra says breathlessly as he rushes into the room, chest heaving with panic, and you grip the sheets. “It hurts, Ez. It hurts.” You choke as another contraction hits you. You’d agreed with Ezra that you wanted a home birth, not wanting to go to the hospital so the midwife rushes over to you and starts to check you over.

“It’s okay, little bird, you will be taken care of.” He promises, leaning down and kissing your forehead before he moves to get a cool cloth. “Soon the baby will be here and it will be all over.” He croons softly as he bathes your sweaty face with the damp rag.

You are shifted onto the bed, dressed in a loose gown, and the midwife checks you over. “You are not dilating yet.” She observes and you frown, “how? I have been in labor for hours. Since early hours of the - shit - morning. And the pains are minutes apart. How can it - oh God.” You cry, your stomach cramping, and you hiss when you feel like your bump is going to rip open. “What’s happening? Ezra!” You cry, reaching for him.

“It’s okay, my love.” He grins, taking your hand and rubbing your stomach eagerly. “Soon he will be here, ripped free from your body and born to the world.” He chuckles darkly. “The prophecy will be fulfilled.”

You pant, feeling like the pain is taking your breath away. Ezra's words don't register as you cry out, feeling like you're about to burst open, and you reach down to touch your stomach, feeling the baby kicking like he's trying to get out. "Ezra. I don't - I'm scared. This isn't - fuck!" You scream as you feel like your insides are being torn apart. You don’t notice that the midwife seems frozen in place, unable to move or speak.

“It’s okay.” He had planned for this, gently taking your hand and lifting your arm over your head. Pulling out the restraints he had tucked out of sight and securing your wrist. Dazed by pain and panicked, you don’t notice until he’s successfully secured both of your wrists. “He won’t be too much longer.”

Your eyes widen as you realize when you try to touch your stomach. "Oh my God. I- What - what are you - oh fuck!" You scream when your stomach is torn open, blood spreading on your gown and your eyes widen, your scream is toe curling.

Ezra’s expression is giddy, gleeful as he watches, his eyes black as night. “That’s it.” He coos, lifting your gown to expose the tear in your flesh as your baby tears free of your body. “Come into the world.”

You see his eyes go black and you scream, tugging against the restraints and you scream as the baby rips your skin, blood everywhere, and you are terrified, in agony, and Ezra watches in awe. "Ez." You choke, blood beginning to spill from your mouth.

Ezra coos, leaning down and pulling the baby free of your body and cradling him in his arms. He murmurs your name and presses his lips to your bloody ones, even though you jerk away from him. “You did perfect, little bird.”

Your blood pours from your shredded stomach, your heart breaking at the look in Ezra's eyes. "Wh-why?" You choke, sputtering as the blood sticks in your throat.

“The babe needed to be born to a virgin.” He tells you, reaching down and caressing your cheek. “What better virgin than one of God’s own?” He chuckles. “My sweet nun, you have given birth, given your life, so that Satan will walk the earth.” His voice changes, deepens from the sugary, southern accent to the demonic pitch that comes naturally and he grins. “The end of times has arrived.”

You choke on your own blood, unable to say anything as terror overwhelms your body when you hear his voice. You've brought about the end of times. You let a demon seduce you and now, you're going to die. You're going to die for your sins. "Don't fret, little bird. You won't be around to see it. The end of the world has just begun." Those are the last words you hear as Ezra bends down to press his lips to yours as you choke out your last breath. Ezra pulls back, lips covered in blood as he grins, looking down at the baby in his arms. His mission has been accomplished.

#pedro pascal #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect imagine #ezra prospect fanfiction #priest au #priest!ezra #demon!ezra

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