#i need him in ways the Bible would warn me against

[rickswh0r3]

okay okay hear me out...

a zaddylishous edit of our man ricky big dicky grimez with fantasize by ariana grande????

this song is everything i think of rick grimes.

taglist : @itsgrimeytime @catt-leya @addicted2twd @starkstiless @blazemm98 @sinsandsweetness @stevenyeunsgirlfriend @grimesgobbler @andrewstinkylinky @eternalrose81 @marlboro-reds-13 @dxrkymxrchy @nadiasgf @taylormarieee @loveforcarl @virtualreader @iamacowboi

[eyesxxyou]

First Drink 🥃

🍺・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.2k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

or

Logan gives you your first drink

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, drinking, forced alcohol consumption, dubious consent, fingering, squirting, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

Logan is far from a holy man. He drinks too much, smokes too often, hasn’t even stepped foot in a church in his entire life. He’d like to think he’s a good man though, one who tries to make the right decisions when he can, but he knows that what he’s like to think and the reality of it all were two wildly separate things. For how could he be a good man when he’s got it out for you, a pastor’s daughter?

He didn’t mean for it to happen. Kind of stumbled into it as one stumbles into trying cocaine. That is to say, he didn’t stumble into it at all. It was a deliberate decision made with addictive consequences. You were his neighbor, a meek, kind little thing often wrapped up in your bible while you sit quaintly on the front steps of your family house. You were young, not too young though. Freshly turned 21. Yet you still wore your modest clothing and pretty mary janes with frilly socks.

Logan was a perverted man. There was no way to get around it. You were as kind and as innocent as any one person could be. You spoke to him kindly, you brought him lemonade while he was working on his motorcycle and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look in his lap with his large hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled nicely against your womb.

It was one of these days when you brought him lemonade and sat with him in his garage that he turned to you, hands covered in grease and oil. “You’re 21 now, right doll?” Logan grabbed a towel from out of the waist of his jeans and used that to clean off his hands before grabbing the small crystalline cup of fresh lemonade to sip on. It was almost as sweet as you, not nearly as pleasing to taste.

You sat on a small crate with your knees close to your chest. The toes of your sleek, black mary janes pointed to each other. “Yes sir.” He liked that about you, how respectfully you spoke to him. It reminded him of how much power he had over you, how many years, how much authority. Oh, he is far from a holy man.

“You had your first drink yet?”

You were a sweet, little thing, flustered at the mere suggestion of drinking alcohol. “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink. My father would never allow it.” You and your tender sensibilities. You and your innocent nature. Logan thought about how easy it would be to have his way with you. You wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t so much as make a peep. You’d be too entranced by the way his fingers slide along your tongue and his length snuggle sits way into the walls of your unused cunt.

Logan hummed softly. “You wanna?” He watched the way your eyes shifted as you considered it, a world within your grasp if you just had the courage to reach for it. He’d give it to you, all of it, a universe of worldly pleasures. Why restrict yourself now to go to heaven when you can have heaven on Earth right here?

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is slow and unsure. All you needed was a little push and you’d tip right over the edge into depravity. That’s the thing about little girls like you, you long for a touch of what’s beyond you but you’re always too scared to get it.

Logan stood up to his staggering height, all legs and muscular torso. “Come on, no one will know but me and you.” He offered a hand to you and after a moment of hesitation, you placed your hand in his large palm and let him pull you up to your feet and guide you into his house. It was a world you had never before seen, rustic and dark, smelling so strongly of Logan you thought you might faint.

He had a whole cabinet for his alcohol, bottles of scotch, whiskey, and bourbon. Logan grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet along with a whiskey glass for you to sip out of. He poured some out and you watched with utter fascination. The golden brown liquid long kept from you for fear you may lose your spot in Heaven. Worldly pleasures such as drinking doomed you to Hell.

“Come here, doll.” Logan coaxed you towards him with two fingers as he sat down on his couch, legs open just enough to offer you a comfortable seat on his thighs. You trembled like a newborn deer, scared of this strange, new world you’ve found yourself in. He brought you into his lap, his hands resting on your thigh as he pushed the glass of whiskey into your hand. “Go ahead and try it.”

You looked into the glass, golden brown sloshing around. It didn’t look so intimidating, like drinking Coca-Cola. But it didn’t taste like Coca-Cola when you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip. It tasted bitter and burned your throat as it went down. “I don’t like it.” You pouted softly, turning to look over your shoulder at Logan. His fingers slowly began to gather the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up your thigh. “Just keep drinking, doll.”

You were a good girl. You did as told, entirely unaware of the way his fingers kept pulling at your skirt until it was entirely up your thigh. You felt his rough fingertips against your bare flesh and shivered as he traced figure 8s into your skin. “Mr. Howlett?”

“Shh, keep drinking.” Logan murmured as he felt up your thigh, closer and closer to your heated cunt. You writhed in his lap, simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused as you felt his rough fingers brush against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. The stuck to your pussy lips, wet and sensitive as he pressed his thumb to your clit through the fabric and began to rub. Logan took his free hand and pushed the cup back to your lips, tilting it to force you to drink.

Logan couldn’t help himself. You were here, splayed out before him for the taking. He’d be stupid not to take advantage of, take advantage of you. You didn't fight it, just as he had expected, like a good girl. “Spread your legs now.” He clicked his tongue and crooned into your ear.

Trembling, you shook your head. “I– I can't.” Your voice, all small and meek, only made his pants tighter. You could feel it, the bulge against your ass through his jeans. Or maybe that was the large buckle against his pelvis.

“Yeah you can. Open up, doll.” He shifted you slightly so that you were sitting on one of his thighs. He used his leg to part yours a bit further, skillfully. He’s had many girls in his lap, none as pretty as you.

Logan stroked your quivering cunt. “What a wet little girl you are. You been thinking about this, pretty girl?” He bounced you on his thigh and let you slide further into his fingers. A stifled whimper escaped you as you braced yourself against him. “Mr. Howlett– please.” You pleaded for your innocence, for your integrity. Most importantly, you begged for him not to expose your innermost thoughts. The sinful way you look at him, all muscle and hair and man.

Your fingers grasped at his wrist and forearm, nails digging into his skin. It wasn't like you were trying to move his hand, not like you could if you wanted you.

You gasped as he curled a finger into the side of your soaked panties and pulled them to the side. Your cheeks began to swell with the heat of embarrassment. Of course, you never expected to have any sexual experience before marriage so you hadn't shaved between your legs. Logan didn't mind at all it seemed, his finger dipped between your lovely lips and stroked in tender touches.

You squirmed in his lap, whimpering. “Mr. Howlett, I…I shouldn't. Please.” His thumb pressed on your puffy clit, pulsing with arousal, and you choked as the electrifying jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. You had ever been touched like this before, not even by yourself. Logan’s experienced fingers circled your leaking entrance, teasing at all the possibilities of pleasure.

“No one has to know, doll.” Grunted Logan. He felt the way your pussy fluttered, the whole thing aching with want. He eased a single finger into you, sighing out a sweet “Jesus” at the way your walls clamped down around him. You let out a squeal, back arching away from him, your nails sinking into his hairy forearm. Your entire body shivered. “Too big,” you murmured, “‘s too big.”

You were small, tight, and already complaining that a single finger was too much. How could he possibly fit his fat cock into your cunt? Logan was sure he'd tear you in half, his precious girl. “Relax, grab that bottle and drink some more, baby. It’ll help you loosen up.”

With a shaky hand, you reached out and grabbed the bottle off the table in front of you. You brought it to your lips and sipped at the liquid while Logan rubbed your hip with his free hand. “Good girl. I gonna keep going now.” You shook your head viciously. “No, no, no, ‘m not ready.”

He cared not for your concerns. Free hand pulling your legs apart, Logan curled pulled his finger from your gripping cunt before sliding it back in. You were all warm and soft on the inside, just like you were on the outside, even more so. You squeaked and squealed in his lap, his thumb attacking your clit in ferocious circles.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, being fucked with a single thick finger. You mewled, mind growing hazy as your hips rocked against your will. Logan knew you wouldn't be able to handle a second finger. He’d rupture your hymen and he wanted to save that honor for when he pushed himself into you and possessed you completely.

You were dripping down his knuckles. He fingered you so hard and fast, you nearly screamed as you thrashed in his lap. “Mmmh ah, ah… ngh.” Something wet trickled out of you and down Logan's hand, clear and dripping. A weak, little squirt, followed by a much larger one.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't…” You panted out, whining. Logan cooed lowly in your ear. “Got myself a squirter.” He chuckled, a nice puddle on his leg and couch from your sweet show of pleasure. He curled his finger, messaging your soft walls in desperate search of that soft ridge where your g-spot lay.

When he found it, Logan smiled, chucking as you yelped and cried out, a rattling moan shivering up your spine. You tried to slow his hand, grasping and scratching at his arm. You fell back against his chest, legs splayed open while he took the time to abuse your pretty cunt. “You okay, doll?”

You whined vaguely, hazily, your body rolling then slumping, tensing then relaxing. “I– It feels weird.” Something was building within you. Something tight and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears pricked your eyes, wide and pretty, weeping with the brutality of your orgasm, pressing on the edge of unknown pleasures.

And it snapped like a rubber band. Everything that had been held back released all at once, ravishing your body to the point where there goes pointed in your Mary Jane's and your back arched. Shaking, you clawed at Logan's arm so hard you left bright red marks lining his flesh. “Mr. Howlett!”

“Shh, shh, don't want the neighbors to hear you, do you doll?” Logan slowed his hand, pulling his finger from your aching pussy. His entire hand dripped with your cum, sweet and creamy, some slick with your squirt. “Open up, little one.” He teased the tips of his fingers to your lips like he had that glass of whiskey. Coaxing your mouth open, Logan slipped his fingers between your lips and pressed his fingers to your tongue.

You tasted nice, sweet. Your body unmarred by the poison of excessive alcohol, smoking, or junk food. You were clean and pure, untouched by anyone but him. Logan loved it, knowing that he’s the first man to ever touch you. The knowledge was almost as good as an orgasm by itself. You were his, he possessed you. You were his before you were anyone else's.

When you stood, skirt falling back down to your knees, your legs trembled with the aftershock of your first orgasm. You let out a deep, shaky breath, trembling as you turned to look at Logan’s sitting figure. “M–M–Mr. Howlett.” It’s all you could manage to say to him, choking. You had been violated; your sacred temple desecrated.

And you liked it.

Logan hiked himself up to his feet from his couch and stood before you, towering. His hands on your hips, he pulled you in close to him. You braced yourself with your hands against his solid chest. Your cheeks were still wet with tears which Logan wiped away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, doll?”

You were such a good, obedient girl. You nodded slowly. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

[nemesyaaa]

losing my religion // dark!cult leader!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; god loves you but not enough to save you.

warnings : mentions of religions. manipulation. cult. smut. corruption kink. small town church trope. religious trauma. purity/innocence kink. slight of god complex. first time. dark/soft!rafe. mentions of murder. sweet lamb trope. coercion. smoking. little age gap. heaven goal. mentions of size kink. glorification. be careful with the warnings. minors DNI.

author's note : it's around 5k words. pfiouuuu. televangelism by ethel cain playing in the background please.

“ father, will i go to heaven ? ”

“ father, will i be this good all my life ? ”

“ father, where was god when i thought he was there ? ”

“ father, did god let me sin on purpose ? ”

you lived in a small remote village, the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and where there were no secrets. well, you thought there were no secrets because everyone here was a true and firm believer. all the locals lived for god. and you would do anything for him and for your ticket to heaven. you had been baptized as a baby and had grown up as a child of the lord, and his most faithful angel. you have acted so well since your childhood and were sure that your death will be a pleasant trip to paradise.

you went to church every day because you always had something to say to god, to ask him, to make him understand. you prayed to speak to him, for him to see you, for him to hear you, for him to know how grateful you were for the life he had given you. your parents had always recommended that you cherish your existence, but also everything that happened to you, the misfortunes as well as the pleasures. life was neither all rosy, nor all white, nor gray or black. you were the only person to give it color. so your religious sister told you that you just needed to know how to paint, but that sometimes you would fail, you would fail but that it didn't matter. because you will make a masterpiece again sooner or later.

you were a devoted child, a faithful lamb with no anger inside, but above all full of love. you gave it to everyone when god had taught you and commanded you to share it as much as possible, that it was this feeling that would bring peace on earth. and who did not want peace, who did not want to please his creator? you were a good girl, so sweet and innocent, the kind sweetheart of the town, incapable of harm or sin, always dressed in your white dress and your little black shoes. you wear everything that can please god. you walked through the church hallway to join the choir, holding the candles. the world had his eyes on you, but especially this tall man lodged in the dark corner.

this man was not god and you knew it, because god would never look at you that way.

you wouldn't know how to describe this gaze on you, but it made you uncomfortable. you continued to move forward, holding the flame preciously against you. you sang with your angelic voice, glory to the almighty, glory to the one who made your existence so beautiful, to bring your back to life every time you felt, and this guy was still staring at you like you were the only person that existed, like the world had taken away the entire universe except you.

maybe you were an angel. after all, you were among the Lord's faithful.

you had never dated a man in your life. your parents and god forbid you, because you needed to stay pure for the good one. you had to remain virgin and clean for your future husband. you were forbidden to look at them, touch them or talk to them except for church activities. you were so loved by god so you had no right to sin, no fucking right to betray him. you had to remain as intact as the mother of everyone, as virgin mary.

you were as holy as the bible, the treasure of the creator. you were devoted like a lamb to his owner, as the followers to the cult leader.

you had never experienced something like touching yourself, making yourself feel good, and anything that included carnal pleasures. you didn't know about pornography, sexuality and lust. you walked away from it as if it were the devil. you were unable to make your god mad, you were too scared for that.

you were faithful to the lord. you helped the people of the village, homeless, the destitute, poor children, the elderly, you helped the world become a better place even when it seemed to be turning against you.

at the end of the mass, everyone, the priest had sent you to collect the funds from the locals.

you were standing in front of the steps. people were always kind and smiling to you as you were collecting funds for the church.

and you had been waiting for this voice to come at you.

“do you really want to go to heaven ? ”

you turned to face the man from earlier, the one hidden in the benches. you answered him with the sweetest smile, and the most nervous look. "yes, i do everything to go there. am i not good enough ? "

“everything?” the stranger had laughed kindly, but it had offended you slightly with that soft giggle.

“ why are you laughing ? this is not funny. ”

“ slow down, baby. you're too pretty to get on your nerves. ” he had pulled out a cigarette.

“will you forget God for a second and be an angel to me ? ”

“ God is in my heart, is in me. i can't forget him, even for a second. he's the reason why i'm living. ”

“ be sweet, angel and light it for me. don't say no, your divine father is watching you, you don't want him to catch you refusing to help a stranger and be mad at you? ” you looked at him with strange open eyes but you accepted. because he was right.

you didn't know how to say no to people. God didn't teach you to say no. people needed to help the people.

you lit his cigarette, and during the whole process he looked at you, his glare scanned your face. you were staring at him, and saw your own silhouette in his eyes, your shadow dancing in the perfect blue of his pupils.

you felt the heat in your cheeks, the burn of his gaze on your skin. you were unwell. you didn't like this situation, the unsteady feeling, the stranger proximity.

when you met him, you felt like a sinner more than a believer.

but he smiled at you. the soft kind of smile that made you forget everything, that made you feel so dumb.

“would i go to heaven now?” you teased him with a small laugh to echo his words.

“not yet but i can help you if you want if you're serious about that.” he answered.

“ i'm serious. ” you were really curious, and he had your full attention. you knew it wasn't good to talk for that long with a man. especially, older. but you took the risk.

you should have stopped when he complimented you because your parents said that men who are nice to girls like you always have bad intentions. but there was also something so charming and bewitching about this man. the way he was adorable. you didn’t see the evil in him.

“i really want to go to heaven, i swear on my life, sir. ”

“ sir ? such a polite thing but i'm not that old, sweetheart. i'm tall, not too old. ”

“ anyways, i really want to go to heaven !! ”

“you already said it, doll. i think God is tired of hearing it now. he wants proof, you know. he needs to see how devoted you are to him. ”

“how can i prove it to him?”

"i know God. i talk to him every day. i am his ruler. do you know what that means? that i am the one who decides for him whether people go to heaven or not. i am his most loyal servant, so he trusts me.”

“are you really connected to God?”

"you are too. we all are but the difference is that i can take you to heaven. i promise you." he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently , a tender and unique gesture that made you shyly smile. “i’m not an angel. not yet.”

"yes, i assure you. i knew it as soon as i saw you in that church. join me." he announced with a warm voice.

“you have always been divine, i never doubted it. you have to go to heaven, you understand? you can't behave so well, be so charitable and disappoint God? and you wouldn't dare doing it, don't you, pretty lamb ? because do you think he will forgive you ? no, sweetheart. you will be punished and rejected like every sinners. ”

“ you're wrong ! God loves me ! ”

“you don't understand. you must be perfect until the end, you must be a great god masterpiece, not his biggest failure. you can't just be the chorus of this choir, be the beautiful thing who holds the candles at mass, the kind soul who helps others. you can't be just that when i can offer you even better and absolutely everything you want. any of your wishes. join me and i will make all your wishes come true, i will make you the new face of the paradise. i will make God see you everywhere. ”

"it seems so unreal...i don't know..."

he had cut you. he didn't want to give you time to think, leaving room for the barrier of doubt."you have to join me, isn't that what you wanted? for me to find you? if you believe in god, you have to be a good girl, make the right choices. "

“okay….” you finally agreed.

he waited for you in his car, one hand on the steering wheel. and you joined him inside. there was so much euphoria in you. you felt like you were doing something so right, so you had this goofy smile on your face.

"does God think i'm a good believer ? i pray every day, i attend mass every time, i sing in the choir and in my rooms all the songs dedicated to him. i only have the Bible as a book and i read it all the time. i can't do anything wrong. i'm good, i promise, i'm good. ”

"is that true? you'll have to show me so I can tell."

“I’m going to pray for you too.” you added. “I pray for all the souls in this world.”

“oh yes my angel will pray for me. i want to hear your prayers, all your prayers about me. but not in front of me. "

“ why ? ”

“ seeing you bent on your knees for me will make me sin. i wish you could see the kind of temptation you are. ”

you had arrived in front of a mansion. you were so flustered and nervous. you didn't understand what you were doing in front of this place, and why he had brought you here. he took your hand, reassuring you with his touch, and guided you inside.

you were not alone. there were other people, women and men. all dressed slightly the same, as if there was a regulation outfit. the atmosphere was strange, a little sectarian. there was an organ playing in the background, and everyone was looking at you kindly so you tried to relax.

"don't be afraid. they're like you, they just want to go to heaven. can you understand?"

you nodded and he showed you around all the places. he even showed you a room and said it would be yours. she was pretty, absolutely perfect but she wasn't yours. not that of your house.

"I'm not going home?..."

"what do you mean? this is your home now. we're a family."

"a family? i have parents, they will worry…”

"i thought you wanted to be close to God. were they lies? you know, you shouldn't joke with religion, and with words. if you want to be a good little christian, if you want to go to heaven, it is to me, and only to me, that you must be devoted.”

"I...I...no, i promise! I'm sincere! i'm sorry, really, I'm sorry. " you now felt terrible. there were so many tears in your eyes, you couldn't even see the room clearly.

the man smiled before taking you in his arms. "it's nothing, you just need to be clearer with your words, okay? I'm your only savior, you don't need others.”

he had wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I have a gift for you…” he whispered and you found your smile again.

no one ever gave you gifts. it was so rare. “open it” he told you.

it was a dress. not the one you usually wore. “you have to put it on. don't you want to shine, shooting star ? ”

" now ? "

"now." his voice was a little firmer.

“i can’t change in front of you…” you admitted. "you're a man...and I'm a girl...it's sinful, it's like having sex! we have to get married to have that intimacy. "

he smiled and laughed. "you've never been naked in front of someone? you've never left this body in front of someone else?"

he had approached, slipping up behind you, towering over you with his height, his hands resting on the corners of your trembling shoulders.

“my sweet thing, it’s as if you’re begging me to corrupt you.”

“what do you mean?”

“that i must see this body.”

" Is it bad?"

“What would be bad, angel, would be to upset me.”

he had pulled the tab of your dress to lower it a little. there were shivers in your body. you felt like you were doing something wrong.

"you're not doing anything wrong. this is what god wants you to do. he told me."

" It's true ? "

“ only the truth. just now. i wouldn't dare lying to you, my sweet. ”

there was nothing you could refuse god. If it were his will, you would do anything.

"but I've never done anything like that? I always thought it was wrong, that I didn't have the right."

he pulled your dress down to the floor, your naked body revealed in the mirror. you could feel his gaze growing more intense as he took in everything you had shown him. "is my body okay? I mean, this is the first time anyone has seen it so..."

"sweetheart, I've never seen anything so beautiful. but I don't just have to see it to judge it, I have to touch it. will you let me ? "

“Lust is a sin.”

“do you want to know my name?”

you had just now realized that you didn't even know his identity. you nodded your head.

“rafe.” he spelled it. “ you must know my name to pray for me, but also to glorify me.”

“glorify ?”

"you must glorify me. salute me and worship me. these are the rules if you want to go to heaven. you must be devoted, I told you.."

" fine…”

he sat on the bed, and you moved closer but he stopped you.

"no, no. all this sweetness but no useful brain ? ” he mocked. “ to worship me, you must be on your knees. ” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“ treat me as the same way you treat your god, angel. because this is what i am to you. i want to see your legs bow down for me, i want to see them treading the ground up to me. i want to see that precious look at the same height of my knees, let me see that head lifted up to glory me. "

he had lit a cigarette, the fourth since you had spoken, and had smiled when you started walking on your knees towards him.

he pressed his hand against the growing bulge in his pants.

“open your mouth.” he commanded and you obeyed, and he slipped his cigarette between your lips. “don’t smoke it, hold it only. don't go against my rules. can i trust this dumb baby brain for once to not disappoint me ? ”

he had taken off his pants, with his boxers. and you turned your head, strongly ashamed by his action.

he mocked gently. “in your place, i would not look away, that would avoid unpleasant surprises when this thing will be buried inside your virgin cunt, sweetheart. ”

he had retrieved his cigarette, and turned your head towards him.

"I can't believe you've never seen one. you've been such a good girl to me. you've been waiting for me. "

“will god hate me?”

“how can i show it to you?”

"it's not god you have to fear, it's me, sweetheart because I'm the only one who will decide for you from now on. do you understand? I have to be sure that you are deserving."

“give me your hand. let me guide you...do you trust me? ”

“ i trust you, rafe. ”

he had positioned your hand on his cock which was already hard. you shivered. your hand was clumsy around his painfully boner. yet you had heard him let out a grunt.

his fingers moved with yours, accompanying you in his lewd movements. you had god in your head, heart and body but your fingers fisted around that thick dick made you warm and good. you hated that feeling, but you can't deny the pleasure. it was the first time. you weren't used to it. you moved back and forth with little confidence, while he kept your grip around his bulge. you followed his back and forth, pumping him with fragility. you weren't sure if it felt good but his muscles had tightened.

your fist slid over his length, your hand working massively. your touch was divine, he threw his head back. you could feel his abs twitching in synch.

“open those legs. let me see that sweet untouched pussy. i'm gonna take such good care of it. are you still trusting me ? ”

“ yes…”

you didn't want to. it flowed between your thighs, the wetness spurted in a mess on the floor. and you weren't sure if that was a good thing. you couldn't tell if it was pleasure or not. it was new to you.

“trust me, you don’t want to make me repeat that a second time. do you ? ”

and that was enough for you to bend to his will.

"you feel, baby ? the sweet mess between your legs ? don't hide from me. ”

you continued to masturbate him up and down. you turned him on so much that he already wanted to come in your hand. his cock twitched in your hold and his balls slapped repeatedly against his skin.

"does that make you feel good? do I need to do better? do you want me to put my lips on..."

he had cum on your face. and you stepped back in surprise. “let me clean you up…”

you came back to him thinking he was going to wipe you but he caught his seed with his fingers, and brought them to your mouth. “if you don’t want me to put them down your throat, you better lick them now.”

you lapped up every last bit of cum on his fingers until they turned white again. you knew he was serious when he threatened you. "that wasn't really a warning, I'll do it someday. I really want to use every part of your body. and you'll let me. yes ?”

“whatever you want...”

he smiled and stroked your hair. “you learn quickly.”

you didn’t really know why but his recognition made you happy. she had an impact on you. you needed, and sought, his validation. it promised you to be even closer to god, to show god that you were faithful to him.

you had this urgency to please rafe, to show him that you could be really good.

for rafe, you were another girl that he led into his cult, another lamb in the troop. you were perfect, you always had the profile. he knew it as soon as he saw you.

he had come to the church only to see you. he attended every mass and ceremony hoping to corrupt you. you were so innocent, so kind and so sweet, and above all, you were ready for anything.

you prayed every day and read the Bible. so you had a desire, a goal, a faith.

he had placed you on his legs, his hands caging your waist, wrapping each part of your hips. “I’m going to make you an angel.” he had said, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet entrance.

“I’m going to go to heaven?”

"it's heaven that will beg for you to come to it, I can even say. but you still have to do one thing for me..."

“tell me. I’ll do anything.”

" good. i really want you to take that dick. show me how much you want to reach eden, i want to see god in you when i'm fucking you. i want to hear prayers in that mouth for how i make you feel, how perfect i am to you and that sweet cunt of yours.”

you rubbed your dripping pussy against his cock, feeling the feverish, leaking tip against your slick folds. you had gently entered him between your impenetrable walls until now, letting out a long and loud moan when you felt his dick getting even harder inside you. It took you several bounces on his thighs to get used to, your pussy stretching around him. you could feel every inch of his length filling your canal but also widening it.

his large hands covered your ass, gripping the gummy flesh of your cheeks, his body moving and following your movements. he had grabbed your face to force a kiss from your already open lips, sliding his tongue against yours. a drool dripped from your jaw, as your pelt slammed and bounced violently against his. your hands were around his neck, trying to keep up the pace.

seeing you struggling and jiggling, he laughed. “even if you had prayers, you couldn’t even say them, too fucking dumb for that shit, right now ? ”

and it was true, you weren't even able to say a word without gurgling. you had tears streaming down your face, your moans were locked against rafe's glossy and pretty mouth, and you were trying hard to take his big cock as best you could. his dick was stuck between your sticky walls, your breasts hitting her toned chest.

“keep going, you’re perfect…” his smile was evil because it motivated you.

you were riding him without even being able to think. you were a fragile little thing doing bad things with a bad guy.

but you wanted to please him. you wanted rafe cameron to think you were good and deserving. you wanted to go to heaven, so you did your best.

and he knew it. you had broken your purity for him.

you were convinced to do something right, convinced that god saw you and that he would be proud to see you so devoted to him.

you didn’t see the harm. you were an angel and you let a demon corrupt you.

you had succumbed to man and his vices, you had let sin enter into you, and let it do you good.

rafe knew what he was doing. you had been his prey. and he couldn't wait to see you at his feet, to make you his perfect doll that he could handle so easily.

because it was only the beginning before you were completely his, completely in control of you, choosing what you eat, what you want, what you wear, what you think.

you were his and his only.

you were his nice girl, not god's one, the one who smiled at everyone, who always prayed in the church pews, who helped those most in need.

he had found you and snatched you from god. because it wasn't him to whom you owed your life. you were wrong and he had to correct that.

you were an angel, and he loved seeing you cry for him. your tears was made for being looked by his ocean eyes, to felt loved by his kisses.

he was completely buried inside you, plunged so deep that you were completely dizzy. and every time you thought he couldn't go any further, he surprised you. you were pretty sure he could put a baby inside you right now, just from the way his cock thrusted inside you, invading your shaking body.

you had squirted and cried, accompanying your tears with apologies. "you're fine. it's just means you liked it. it will also happen to me, angel. don't worry.”

the more he called you angel, the more you began to believe that you were one. you had squirted again but now you weren't scared anymore because he had reassured you. you had been afraid that it would be a disgusting thing and that he wouldn’t want you anymore.

but it was so strange. he was both gentle and cold.

“stop...I’m going to be pregnant!”

"that's not how it works...but if that's what you want, I can take care of it...whatever the angel wants.”

after that day, your life had been totally different, completely transformed by rafe.

you were part of this community now. you were all brothers and sisters, united for a common goal. you always prayed. but above all, you were completely manipulated. you were so controlled that you forgot your family, your friends, your entourage, your involvement in church. only god remained with you. he was still there.

you wore the outfits rafe wanted you to wear, you ate the food he wanted, you only talked about topics he allowed, you became someone else. you were what he wanted you to be.

but one night you heard god. you were sure it was his voice in the darkness. you were sleeping in rafe cameron’s arms, his bicep resting on your stomach. it was strange to see him sleeping like a child when he behaved like that.

you had begun to follow god’s voice in the darkness, your feet pacing and pacing through the empty hallways. the light guided you, it was he who accompanied you. he pulled you out, into the huge garden.

“do you think you can leave? do you think you can leave me ? are you that fucking dumb ? ”

Rafe’s voice made you jump. you weren't sure if you woke him up because you were a quiet person. but now he was in front of you, and he really didn't look very happy.

"I have to leave..."

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

“god spoke to me.”

"oh really? god may be talking to you but you need to listen to me. aren't you grateful for the life i gave you? didn't you want to be good? you're tear up your ticket to paradise. just bury yourself alive at this point."

tears had started to fall down your cheeks. you felt trapped because you didn't know who to listen to. god or this man?

your feet moved towards rafe. as you approached, his arms stretched out as if to reassure you.

“i’m sorry….i'm really sorry…..”

“i know you are but you also know that it’s not enough.”

“so tell me what i need to do to be good enough? ”

“you must sacrifice yourself. ” he said with that deep serious tone.

you looked at him with fear. you couldn't kill yourself.

“ i can’t kill myself, rafe…”

“i know, angel but don't worry, i will. ”

“ what do you mean ? i always did what you wanted me to do, i always been so good to you, i never be against you and your rules ! you promised me heaven, you promised me....everything. was that a lie ? you 'ever be serious to me ? answer me...never ? rafe, i was all what you wanted me to be, even that was not enough for you ? ”

“ i really wish you were. any last word, baby? ”

“ can you at least shoot me in the heart ? ”

“ tell me why...”

“ it's the last part of me you never took away from me. but now that i will die, you can take it. it's all yours. ”

[harryslittlefreakk]

dating at the drive-in

summary: harry finally gets a chance to take out the pastor’s daughter, under the guise of learning about faith. but it’s y/n who ends up learning 👼🏻🍁📽️

warnings: mentions of religion

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: hello beautiful people!!! this turned out longer than i planned on lol but i really loved writing this 🥹 i want to write more of them

if there are any tropes or ideas you want to see during fictober, let me know!! <3

fictober masterlist | main masterlist

You didn’t quite know how you'd ended up there.

Well, you did. It had taken weeks of endless planning and scheming, whispered late night phone calls and half-hearted prayers to a God you weren’t sure you believed in, asking for forgiveness you weren’t sure you needed.

It had started when you were paired up with Harry in biology - him the boisterous, popular football player, and you, the quiet, often ignored, pastors daughter.

You hated your dad's commitment to his faith, his insistence on your inclusion into a community you’d never asked to be a part of. You wanted to be like the other girls your age, the girls who got to hang out at the mall and roller rink on weekends, not lead the children through Sunday school. You wanted real friends, ones whose houses you were allowed to go to after school without your dad meeting their parents first, ones who could come to your house without being weirded out by the heads dipping around the dinner table, the Bible passages recited before cutlery met food. Most of all, you wanted a boyfriend, and being paired up with Harry had only exacerbated that need.

He was the class clown, the kind of boy you read about - the ones who were cheeky, reckless at times but always able to charm themselves out of any real punishment. He was the football teams star player, the girls favourite eye candy and the boys favourite teammate.

But he was more than that, and the more he opened himself up to you, the more you wanted to exist in a reality where he could be yours.

Harry was studious and sincere, his grades never slipping his even as he explained, and explained and explained, until you finally understood.

The lines between a crush and love - or at least your inexperienced, teenage definition of it - blurred further everyday, until your heart started to physically react to Harry’s presence. The way his hand brushed against yours as he reached for his pen, his dimples set deep in his cheeks as he watched you speak.

Then one day he’d looked at you, really looked at you, seeing the face beneath the lights and shadows of the classroom projector. His stare had forced a great red blush over your cheeks, your name slipping out of his mouth in whispered tones until you’d finally turned to face him. “I really- please, Y/N, let me take you out, there’s a movie at the drive-in, it’s a Friday, I-”

Your heart had broken, shattered into a million pieces as you finally got what you wanted and yet couldn’t have it.

“I can’t, Harry. My dad..” your voice trailed off, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “My dad is the town pastor. He’d never let me.”

But he hadnt given in. Hed appeared bright-eyed in the back pew the following Sunday, his brows furrowing as he tried to follow the prayers and preachings.

He'd waited until the crowds dispersed, approaching your dad with faux interest, introducing himself as a young man who wanted to explore faith and find where he might fit in.

"A fine young man”, your dad had recalled that evening. That was where you came in.

"He goes to my school, Daddy. He asked me to teach him, to tutor him through the Bible.”

Youd crossed your finges under the table and hoped, prayed with a conviction you’d never felt before, that your dad would allow you this.

You knew what was running through his head. A boy, wanting to spend time with his little girl. On the other hand, a boy who wanted to join his church, who could pull out the enthusiasm that he’d noticed you lacking lately.

“Thirty minutes, once a week, at this table. We can figure out a day later,” he’d agreed after a beat.

And so you had half an hour a week with Harry, not alone, but not under the watchful eye of your classmates. He was overwhelmingly polite to your parents, patient with your insane younger siblings, and soon he would join your family for dinner on the day you’d tutor him.

He’d bided his time, waiting to have your dad fully on his side before he proposed anything further. Still, when he’d (not so) secretly asked your dad if he could take you to a movie, purely on the basis that you deserved a real, sincere thank you for the time that you’d devoted to Harry, you hadn’t expected him to say yes.

He had his rules of course, home within fifteen minutes of leaving the movie, absolutely no funny business, and most importantly, to bring home some real movie theatre popcorn for him.

Your dad wasn’t a bad man, not really. He was loving and caring in a way other men weren’t, never mean or angry as you knew your classmates dads could be. He was merely strict, bound by the rules of his faith.

But still, there you were, feet propped on the dashboard of Harry’s car, Lionel Richie’s Endless Love playing softly from the stereo as you waited for the movie to start.

“Why did you do all of this?” you blurted out suddenly, turning to face Harry. “You could have any girl, one that comes without all the.. God.”

“You’re special,” Harry replied, leaning forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze intense as he looked over your face. “Besides, I really wanted to see this movie.”

You shook your head, his cheeky grin as infectious as always. “I haven’t seen the first one. I’m not really allowed to watch scary movies.”

“It’s not scary, I promise it’s not scary. It’s just this man, Michael Myers, he escaped from a mental institution and he goes back to his hometown to kill people,” Harry shrugged, nodding at one of the posters. “That’s him.”

“It sounds a bit scary,” you murmured, fiddling with the straw in your soda. The opening credits started to roll as you spoke, the ominous soundtrack already sending a chill down your spine.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Harry teased, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned closer, nudging you with his shoulder as he tuned the stereo into the right station.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bucket on his lap. “I’ll be fine,” you said, hoping Harry hadn’t heard the slight quiver in your voice.

“Of course you’ll be fine. No one would dare try to get you with me here,” he grinned, flexing his toned arm.

🍂˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕️

The movie started off slow, but the tension built quickly. Each scene seemed to draw you in deeper, until your heart was racing. The eerie music swelled, and before you knew it, you let out a little gasp, shrinking into your seat.

Harry chuckled softly beside you, his eyes never leaving your face, the arm he had wrapped around the popcorn bucket settled on top of your hand instead. "C'mere," he murmured, slipping an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you closer.

You didn’t resist, settling into his warmth as his fingers brushed lightly against your arm. He gave a reassuring squeeze, but you couldn’t relax. The movie wasn’t scary, not really, but you were so full of tension, your heart pounding every time you remembered where you were - and who you were with.

Harry had this effortless charm, the kind that made your heart race the second he walked into a room. In the classroom, and over your dining table, it was like you could sense him watching you, his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary, his smiles just a bit more than friendly. And though you knew he was into you — the way he looked at you, the way he always found a way to be close, how his jokes were for your ears only, the fact that he’d even done all of this in the first place — you still couldn’t shake the nervous energy that clung to you every time they were together.

You hadn’t ever kissed anyone before, let alone had a relationship, and now, Harry was doing all the right things — the sweet touches, the lingering looks, the casual arm draped around your shoulders when you were sitting close. It was like he knew how to make you feel seen, but it only made you more aware of everything you weren’t sure how to do.

Whenever his hand brushed yours or his gaze caught yours for a moment too long, you would feel your cheeks warm and your heart stutter. You’d overthink every response, wondering if you were being too shy, too quiet, or if you should be more playful, like the girls who seemed to know exactly how to flirt. When he laughed at your jokes or flashed you one of those soft smiles, you’d forget how to speak, barely able to string together a sentence without making yourself look a complete fool.

Even there, sitting beside him in his car, your nerves hummed with anticipation. You could feel his eyes on you, the movie barely holding either of your attention. You wanted to act cool, to lean into him the way you saw in movies, but instead, you focused on your hands in your lap, your heart racing at the thought of him making a move.

When Harry shifted closer, brushing his knee against yours, you froze for a split second, but when you peered up at him, that easy, reassuring smile plastered on his face, you softened against his chest.

“You alright?” he asked softly, his voice low and gentle.

You nodded, your throat dry, but you couldn’t look away just yet. Not with the way your heart was pounding. You knew he could probably tell you were nervous — even if he couldn’t always read you so well, he could definitely feel it — but you weren’t sure how to act. Should you lean in? Should you say something flirty?

Instead, Harry shifted again, just enough to take your hand in his, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the words you’d been holding back nearly tumbled out: I’ve never kissed anyone. I don’t know what I’m doing. But instead, you bit your lip, your heart fluttering as you let yourself relax into him a little more.

The movie was the last thing on your mind, but you were vaguely aware of the music winding tighter and tighter until a sudden, loud bang burst from the stereo. You startled, your free hand instinctively curling into Harry’s t-shirt, the other gripping tight around his knuckles.

He smiled softly, his gaze lingering on you, warm and knowing, as if he could see right through the layers of uncertainty you’d been carrying all night.

He slouched in his seat until you were face to face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Y/N, I know,” he said, pushing your hair from your face. “I know you haven’t done any of this before.”

Where other boys would be teasing or impatient, Harry was just... kind. You swallowed hard, your gaze flicking from the green of his eyes to his lips, then back again, not sure what to say, but Harry was already one step ahead of you.

“And I don’t mind,” he continued, his voice soft but firm. “We can do whatever you want. Or don’t want. You just tell me, and I’ll follow your lead, okay?”

You felt your breath catch, a mixture of relief and something else washing over you. He was giving you the choice, the control, making sure you knew he wouldn’t push you into anything.

But you wanted everything with Harry. You weren’t even totally sure what everything was, but you knew you wanted it. Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Harry-”

You couldn’t even say it. He was one of the most popular boys in school, and you were about to ask him to kiss you. You screwed up your face, feeling even more pathetic than normal.

Harry’s smile was gentle as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks blaze.

“You sure?” he asked, giving you one last chance to change your mind.

You nodded again, your heart pounding. “Yeah. I want you to.”

That was all he needed. Slowly, Harry leaned in, closing the gap between you. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and careful, as though he was holding back, making sure you were still comfortable. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers weaving into your hair as he deepened the kiss, moving slowly, giving you time to adjust.

Your pulse was racing, the sensation of his lips on yours sending shivers down your spine. You hadn’t expected to feel so much all at once, the warmth of his touch and the way he was so focused on you. There was a tenderness to it, but there was also a hunger you could feel simmering just beneath the surface, restrained but palpable.

As your body relaxed into the kiss, you found yourself responding more, your hand tentatively splaying across his chest. That was when it all changed.

It grew more heated, Harry’s lips pressing harder against yours, his breath mixing with yours as the tension between you intensified. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling you closer as your mouths moved in sync, slower but more deliberate, each kiss longer, deeper, until everything else seemed to fade away.

The air between you was thick with heat, and you could feel the weight of his desire, but still, Harry kept the pace measured, never pushing you beyond what she wanted. His lips were firm, his movements sure, but there was always that quiet restraint, like he was letting you set the tone.

When you finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Harry’s forehead rested against yours, his fingers still tangled gently in your hair. He grinned, his voice husky and low. “How was that?”

You smiled back, heart still pounding in your chest. “Perfect,” you whispered, your lips still tingling from the kiss, his taste still lingering in your mouth.

Harry pulled you onto his lap, his hands gentle but firm as he positioned you close. His eyes traced the outline of your face as his fingers laced back through yours. “You are so different to what I expected,” he told you, his voice soft.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in, and you tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.

"I didn’t notice you before. Then you had all that personality tucked away. And your dad…”

His hand rested on your hip, anchoring you to him, his thumb gently stroking your side. “You’re a good girl. Nice and good,” he finished, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

But you didn’t want to just be a good girl. You pushed forward, trying to summon a confidence you didn't quite feel.

Your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was almost hesitant, as if you were testing the waters, unsure if you were doing it right. Your hand found its way to the side of his face, a little shaky, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Harry’s hand came to rest on your waist, the simple touch giving you the reassurance you needed. He didn’t pull you closer or take control like you half-expected. Instead, he let you lead, allowing you to find your own rhythm.

You could feel yourself relaxing, gaining a bit more confidence with each passing second. Your kisses became firmer, more assured, though there was still a certain vulnerability.

“Nice and good,” Harry repeated when you pulled away, a shaky laugh bubbling out of your throat as he held you close.

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!!! 😀🥰

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[kisakis-boyfriend]

Kinktober Day 9: Blasphemy

Author's Note: If you're at all offended or put off by blasphemy or sacrilegious themes, I'd recommend skipping this one. It's kinky, slutty gay sex in a church, and I lean into the blasphemous nature of that. You have been warned ‼️‼️ Don't ask why the prelude rhymes. It just sort of came to me 🫣

Pairings: Fyodor x male reader

Warnings: Dom male!reader, sub!Fyodor, sacrilegious acts, sex in a church, choking, bondage, roleplay, hierophilia, mild allusions to homophobia

Prompt credit: wylerkinktober 🧡

On a cold winter's night, two bodies meet. Skin to skin contact that turns up the heat.

Blasphemy of the highest degree, their very souls overshadowed by ecstasy.

One act after another, a shameful display. Circumstances be damned, they could do this all day.

The orange candlelight flickered, bathing the room and its inhabitants in a warm glow — holy, one might even call it. Though the scenes unfolding within this blessed building were anything but.

There, in the front row of pews sat you and your lover. It started out innocent; Fyodor wanted to come here to relax and contemplate a few things, and you wished to keep him company (that, plus you didn't care to walk home alone during the coldest season of the year…) It was unclear whether or not Fyodor believed in God — or any deity, for that matter — but one thing was certain: he always found himself sitting in an old church. Usually gazing at the ceiling or flipping through a worn out Bible as if he were the Lord's most devout servant.

It was one of those nights where he simply sat in silence, eyes closed and head tipped back, as his breath remained steady and quiet. He was quite beautiful like this, you thought. Staring at him for too long, however, is a dangerous game. It activates something deep in your brain. Something that causes all rational sense to flee. Any innocence behind your eyes darkens; a demon lying in wait takes the bait that is Fyodor's body, and pounces–

Fyodor gasps, eyes squeezing shut while your hand slides towards his inner thigh. You palm him through his clothes, making it impossible for your lover to concentrate on anything except the tingling between his legs.

Roughly, yet methodically, your hands touch all the right places, and Fyodor's eyes snap open, breaking the trance he was under, and he utters, “Take me…!”

—

A part of you is well aware of how wrong this is, as well as the things certain religious folks would have to say if they could see you two right now.

Two men, alone in a church, locking lips on the pew. Unafraid to touch and grope and grind on each other as the image of the Lord presides over the grounds. Fyodor is moaning without consequence, fired up like you've never seen him before — and you fucking love it.

“God- aaahh, I need… more…!” he exhales in between kisses. Sweat has his pretty hair clinging to his forehead already.

You chuckle at the ironic way he calls upon 'God', as if he's asking God to allow him to experience more pleasure at your hands. And maybe He is listening, because you're overcome with the intense desire to give your lover everything he asks for and more. No, you need to do this. It's your duty alone to fuck Fyodor's brains out until he ascends to whichever higher plane this God exists on.

—

Tucked away in a supply closet were some very useful materials: A bit of duct tape, rosary beads, and a bottle of holy water. And, how quickly your brain conjured up a way to incorporate these fine items. First, Fyodor's clothing was stripped off of him, revealing that gorgeous body that you adored to a sickening degree. Next, his hands were bound in front of his chest, and the rosary beads were placed between his fingers.

Then, you placed your tied up beauty on top of your lap, spreading his legs open wide to display his cock to the empty church. Your dick was already hard, pressing against Fyodor's ass and balls as you, too, sat there with nothing on, pressing your bare skin against his back.

“Let's play pretend, yeah? Might as well have a little fun since we've already gone this far.” you suggest, tucking a lock of hair behind Fyodor's ear. “Now, what brings you here tonight, my child? Do you wish to confess something?”

With no hesitation, your lover leans into the setup; “Yes… Forgive me, father, for I have committed a great sin-”

“And what might that sin be?”

You catch a glimpse of the twitch between his legs, and feel his breath hitch before he blurts out; “I… I have these thoughts, desires, of another man…”

“Mm, I see.” you say, intrigued.

Fyodor continues, arching his back as the details become more graphic. “Yes, I… I think of someone in particular often. When I'm trying to work, my mind drifts to him… and I imagine how it would feel to take him inside of me–” a shudder rips through his being, causing his hole to clench and his hips to buck upwards.

“My, that is a great sin, indeed. And look at you,” you say, tapping his cock with your index finger, “your body is reacting just from talking about your urges… tsk, dear thing, what am I going to do with you?”

Stopping himself from thrusting his hips proves to be futile—his precum had already smeared on your finger when you touched him, tainting your skin with his sinful essence. On the cusp of becoming hysterical, Fyodor cries out, “Please, help me, father! What can I do to cleanse myself of this sin?!”

A devilish smile creeps onto your face as you think of a perfect cure to his affliction. “Relax, child. I may have the perfect way for you to repent.” Fyodor's eyes light up, and he exhales a sigh of relief while you gently caress his hips. You take the bottle of holy water that you found, pouring a small amount in the palm of your hand as you explain what it is to your dear sinner. “–and I'm going to use some of this to help you purge those feelings from your body, alright? Is that ok with you?” he nods vigorously, desperate to accept your help.

The blessed water coats the skin of your hand — it's a bit cold from sitting in a freezing church closet, and when it comes in contact with Fyodor's dick, he flinches. It doesn't take long for it to warm up as you wrap your hand around his shaft—jacking him off with the holy water. “Wh-what–? Father, mmph… oh God-”

“If you want to purge your sins, we must expel them from your body. And what better way to do that than through this–” you say, holding Fyodor's cock in your hand like it's nothing but a tool for you to use. “Those thoughts frustrate you, yes? Don't they make you feel so pent up and tight? You just need to shoot all of that sin out through here.”

As your fingertip swirls around his slit, Fyodor keens. An unholy noise permeates through the otherwise silent church. His toes curl, and within seconds, cum dirties the wooden floor, as well as your hand. Sticky and rather thick—Fyodor's sinful seed is strung between your digits.

With his head thrown back onto your shoulder, your little sinner sounds upset, chanting “M'sorry, sir- ooh~ I could not stop myself…”

Feigning disappointment, you chastise him for doing such a sinful, lewd act. In a holy building, such as this one, no less. “It seems your situation is even more dire than I thought. Perhaps a punishment would be more effective, hm?”

Fyodor's pupils expand even wider somehow. The prospect of divine punishment brings about a shiver to his thin, frail body. Before he has a chance to agree or protest, you're pulling the rosary from his fingers and wrapping it around his pale throat. He coughs, jerking his body and making an attempt to pull the thing away—yet, with duct taped wrists, that's not exactly doable. He merely ends up with a slap on the wrist for his action.

Now, with the beads digging into his neck, this dear sinner is once again subjected to your "sin-purging" tactics—albeit with increasingly blurry vision and labored breaths. Another round of your priestly hand incessantly rubbing his cock, while your other hand keeps the rosary tight around his neck. As you rub faster, tugging harshly at his weeping, swollen cock, Fyodor gargles out shameless moans. No longer worried about how sinful he's become, simply a slut for your not-so-innocent "treatment".

“Y-es…!” he croaks, “more! I need to- need to cum again, please~! 💜” And so, you oblige him. You hungrily work Fyodor's dick as if it's your life's mission — as your fingers trace over his slit again, you lament not having something to plug up his cock with. Forcefully preventing him from a delicious release sounds perfect right now. Ah well, perhaps next time, you'll implement such a punishment. This time, you stroke and choke your lover until he cums his brains out in your lap.

[bladefi]

ᰍ wanna be urs ! mdni.

synopsis + oh, how your sweet boyfriend missed you after weeks of not seeing each other.

warning(s) + afab/fem!reader sorry, dom/sub; soft dom!blade, size kink, cum-eating, breeding kink, impregnation, sleepy sex, petnames; my baby, my love, nipple play? slight choking, cunnilingus, fingering, slight ooc

notes + hai >_< self indulgent but like. i wrote this at 2 am dawg idk why im doing this instead of studying im literally failinng but wtv LMFAOO skull emoji # no way i just wrote porn in a bible class

the raven-haired man would appear in your bedroom randomly, most being during the night.

tonight was no different.

" blade…? " you groggily called out, rubbing your eye to regain your vision and adjust to the light. the familiar man sat down on your bed, right beside you and leaned in to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

" hey, " he whispers, caressing your cheek gently. he was not one to show affection much, and would rather show his love in his own way. however, his gentle touch made you wish he did this more often.

blade trailed down to bur y his face on the crook of your neck, strays of flyaway hair tickling your face. he continuously nibbled on your earlobe, then down to your neck, kissing them passionately.

" mhm, ‘m tired… " you complained, playing with the long strands of his hair, kissing his cheek tiredly.

" haven't seen my baby in three weeks, " he pulled away to take a good look at your face, smiling sweetly as he finally got a clear view. " so pretty f’me… "

you chuckled, patting his head and messing with his hair. his hand was placed on your waist, making you sit up and cuddle up against him. you knew he missed you— it took up most of your strength to not tease him about it.

" take this off, " he ordered, wrapping his finger under the thin straps of your tank stop, slipping them off your shoulder.

you whined, complaining how you were too sleepy, yet indulged in the end seeing how you had immediately threw them over your head, leaving your top bare, your breasts on full display.

you felt yourself grow hotter, as the whine he had let out once he wrapped his mouth around your right bud made you feel things. it was way too hot.

" fuck, you're gorgeous… " he says, pulling away from your bud as he placed one of your legs on his shoulder, placing soft and wet kisses on your stomach.

you huffed, sighing as he smiled against your skin, trailing his fingers down lower down to your inner thigh. " wanna feel me inside, hm? " he whispers, maintaining eye-contact.

you hum, playing with his hair before lightly tugging on them, causing him to groan quietly.

" use your words, baby. " the moment his hand brushes against your clit, your head rolls to the side to rest against his chest, a soft moan escaping tour soft lips.

unconsciously spreading your legs open, he obliged and pushed a single digit in, agonizingly slow as he pulled them out only to push them back in the same pace that made you feel dizzy.

" please, hah… i wanna feel you inside. " with a soft chuckle, blade couldn't resist. especially when you're giving him such a cute face— a pleading, desperate expression making him more turned out than he already was.

you didn't need to tell him twice, as he slipped another finger in, kissing your inner thigh in the process. he couldn't help but smile at the hitched moan, letting you pull on his hair. when he curled his finger inside, you wrapped your legs around his head, feeling his breath on your wet slit.

blade lowered his head, his tongue licking a long strip on your slit. a satisfied moan left his mouth, practically kissing your sweet, little cunt.

though, you never noticed, but blade seems to enjoy how small you looked and felt compared to him. his idle hand spread across your stomach, nearly occupying the space as he pressed down. with his tongue buried inside your hole, his nose bumping against your clit as his fingers continued to slip in and out of you, it all felt too much.

" bla- hah… i'm, " unable to comprehend the event, blade wasted no time to immediately curl his fingers once more, your hips jerking and legs twitching. he sat up from his stance, caressing your soft thighs, his lips and jaw covered with your slick, you felt yourself grow hot just from the sight itself.

you didn't even realize that he was fully exposed. your leg were still over his shoulder, as he rubbed his tip against your entrance. " may i? "

your short hum was enough for him to push himself inside, his width practically splitting you open as his length slipped in all the way. no matter how many times the two of you make love, there was no way you were going to get used to his size.

" you're taking me so well, my love. " blade's idle arm reached out to caress your cheek, staring into your desperate, glossy eyes. with a shaky breath, he calls out, " [name], "

he started by moving so agonizingly slow, yet precise. blade knew exactly what spot makes you tick and go insane, and it was that specific spot that felt, oh, so heavenly. his thrusts were deep and steady, one scratch to his back was enough to encourage him to increase his pace.

the sound of skin slapping against each other, your heavy and breathy moans were like music to his ears. his hand travelled to wrap around your neck, gently squeezing them.

" blade… b-blade, hah- "

he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your lips, slamming himself inside you in an incredibly fast pace. your tight squeeze didn't go unnoticed, and it takes the last bit of your strength to pull away from the kiss by tugging on his hair.

" god, your tummy… ‘s full of me… " he groaned, the bump forming on your stomach as he pressed his hand against it, causing something in him to snap. you heard his breath hitch, his cock twitching inside you as ropes of white, warm liquid pushed inside your cunt.

blade lets out a heavy sigh, pulling out slowly, watching as the cum oozes out of your pussy. suddenly, when his hand reaches out to cup a bit of the fluid, he held it out in front of your face.

" open up, " he orders.

the immediate obedience made him smile, pushing the slimy and thick substance inside your mouth, as you closed your lips around his fingers, your tongue swirling around them in the process.

" you did so well, my love. " retracting his fingers, he pressed a kiss on your forehead, caressing your hair. " i'll go clean you up, alright? i'll be back… " stopping in his tracks as you shake your head, tugging on his sleeves.

" no… i want you to stay… "

oh, how could he resist?

[togrowoldinv]

One-On-One

Milf!Wanda x Female Reader

You’re Wanda’s pastor, so when her husband leaves her you reach out to offer her comfort. She tries to push you away on the account that she doesn’t like you, but that changes when she realizes what you could do for her.

Warnings: Kissing, cursing, public-ish sex, fingering (W receiving), oral (R receiving), Wanda being mean but hot

Note: I was just thinking about milf Wanda again lol. Enjoy this one!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

There is not a strong enough word to describe how much Wanda Maximoff does not like you.

She is outwardly against the way you perform your role in the church and is, in fact, the only member of the search committee that voted against you.

You tried not to take it personally, knowing that Wanda was close with the last pastor.

At first, you tried to make friends with Wanda. You knew you would have to work with her, so why not make things cordial? But Wanda fought against your every attempt to get close to her. Even months into your time at the church, she is still not approving of you.

You got word today that her husband had left her. She is left alone with her two children. Despite how she feels about you, you still have duties as a pastor to check on your congregation. So, you made cookies and drove to Wanda’s house.

Walking up to the door now, you knock and wait for her to open it. It takes a few minutes, but soon one of her young sons arrives at the door.

“Hello Tommy,” you greet him.

“How do you know my name?” He asks.

“I’m Pastor Y/n,” you tell him. “I usually wear a nice robe and am carrying a Bible.” He laughs and nods. He remembers you now. “Is your mom home?”

At that moment, Wanda walks into the living room. She rushes to the door.

“Tommy, what did I tell you about opening the door for strangers?” She lightly scolds him.

“Mom, it’s Pastor Y/n,” comes his defense. Wanda shakes her head, and Tommy walks away.

You’re left with Wanda. She looks you over. She hasn’t seen you in casual clothes before, and her eyes can’t help but fall to your chest. Your blouse is unbuttoned enough to reveal your soft skin. You try to catch her eye, and she snaps out of it.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asks. Her tone is short.

“I just wanted to offer my condolences. And my grandma’s famous cookies,” you say, holding out the bag.

“I don’t really need your sympathy.”

“I know, but I still thought I’d offer it. After all, Jesus did ask what he could do for us, so we should too. What can I do for you, Wanda? I’m ready to help with anything you need,” you tell her.

“I- I don’t know,” Wanda says. Her usual stiff posture softens a bit.

“How about for now, I come inside, and we can talk or just sit?” You ask.

She steps back and lets you in. The boys run into the kitchen and take a cookie. They go play outside at Wanda’s suggestion they enjoy the nice evening. You recognize that she just needs a break.

It is quiet for a while before Wanda speaks.

“Have you ever been married?” She asks. You shake your head. “Count yourself lucky then.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I think marriage can be beautiful.”

“Maybe,” Wanda says. “Mine wasn’t.”

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Ha,” Wanda says sarcastically. “It’s definitely my fault. I’m always the problem.”

“Wanda-”

“No. I am. You know that’s true. We don’t even get along, and it’s once again my fault.”

“I understand you don’t like me much,” you say. “But it’s not your fault. You just don’t want to be my friend. I’ve accepted that.”

“You’ve accepted it? But you’re here,” Wanda says.

“It’s my job,” you say simply. “And I wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

Wanda sighs. You know she’s not okay, but one day she will be. Maybe sooner than she thinks.

“So, what can I do to help you?” You ask her again.

Wanda thinks briefly before speaking again. “Would you consider a personal Bible study with me?”

“I’d love to do that, Wanda. My office tomorrow night?” You ask her.

“I can do that, yes.”

You smile and say your goodbyes to Wanda. The next day Wanda meets you at your office. She is wearing a dress that’s a little low-cut, but you’re not complaining. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to her.

“Welcome, Wanda,” you greet her. “How was your day?”

“Can we just cut to it, y/n?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, um- sure,” you say. You thought she wanted to start a friendship, but it seems all business with her today.

You open up your Bibles together to read and talk. Wanda doesn’t participate much, but instead you often find her looking at you while you’re reading.

Her eyes once again rake over your body. You’re wearing a more conservative shirt today, being in the church building, but she’s still looking.

You decide to say something about it after an hour of the Bible study.

“Wanda,” you begin. “I don’t mean to pry, but you’re really looking me over tonight. And I noticed it yesterday too.”

Wanda’s cheeks blush before she leans in closer to you. Her arms rest on your desk, pretty close to yours.

“Is it a bad thing?” Wanda asks. “I mean, don’t you like being seen?”

“As your pastor, I really should discourage you looking at me like this,” you say.

“And outside of your pastoral duties?” Wanda wonders.

She stands up from her chair and crosses your desk. Sitting on the edge next to where you are, you see her creamy thighs as her dress rides up.

“Outside of my pastoral duties, I’m very attracted to you,” you tell her. She smirks devilishly.

“Even with how mean I’ve been to you?”

You swallow and nod. Her meanness has only spurred you on further since you met her.

Wanda moves closer to you and you scoot your chair back from your desk. She stands upright and approaches you. One of her legs goes around each side of your waist as she lowers herself onto your lap.

“Wanda,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” Wanda says, placing a finger on your lips. “No talking. I just want to fuck you.”

You open your mouth to speak again, but Wanda’s lips quickly shut you up. Her lips on yours ignites a fire in your entire body.

Wanda’s hands pull you closer. One grips your waist under your shirt while the other holds your neck tightly. You never realized how perfect her hands are before.

You move to lift her dress further up her legs. She’s wearing light pink, lace panties. You groan at the sight as Wanda kisses your neck.

Your fingers dip into her center and feel the wetness through her panties. The thin material doesn’t prevent her from feeling the way you’re dragging your fingers over her pussy lips.

“Wanda,” you try to speak again. This time, she puts her finger into your mouth to stop you. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it.

Her eyes darken with pleasure at the sight of you being so submissive for her. She takes her hand and unbuttons your pants.

You move her panties to the side as your fingers push into her. She takes your fingers so well. You want to tell her that she takes you so well, but you just kiss her instead. You get the no talking message.

Her moans when you move your fingers in and out are enough to keep you motivated. She’s enjoying this.

“Fuck,” she whimpers when her hips still. She’s coming against your fingers.

“I thought we weren’t talking,” you say.

Wanda responds by kissing you hard and biting your lip. It’s harsh, but it feels so good. She slides off your fingers and then kneels on the ground. Her eyes tell you what she wants.

She finishes undoing your pants and pulls them along with your underwear down your legs just far enough to access you.

“So fucking wet,” Wanda says, breathily. “You love how much I despise you, don’t you? You still get so wet for me.”

“Fuck, Wanda,” you groan out. You guess the no talking rules only apply to you.

She leans in and licks at your pussy. It doesn’t take long for you to feel close to your peak. Wanda’s definitely done this before. She hums with her own pleasure when she feels you start to come against her tongue.

“Oh, god, Wanda!” You shout, probably too loud for a public church. Hopefully your secretary didn’t hear you.

“So good,” Wanda says as she cleans you up with her tongue.

She then stands back up and pulls her dress back down. You pull your pants back up. Wanda sits against your desk again.

“Same time next week?” Wanda asks.

“Wanda, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“And yet, we just did it, didn’t we?” Wanda asks, a glint in her eye. “Come on, Pastor Y/n, a little casual sex never hurt anyone.”

You want to disagree, but all you can think about is what she might taste like. So instead, you stand up and kiss Wanda. She’s taken aback, but responds quickly.

When you pull away, there is a knock at the door. Your secretary, Natasha, is at the door.

“Your next appointment is here,” she says once she’s opened it.

You nod and Wanda steps outside. She leaves with blushing cheeks and a secret smile.

“Can you schedule Wanda again for next week?” You ask Natasha.

“Sure. And I’ll cancel anyone’s appointments you have after her,” Natasha says, a smirk on her lips.

“You’re the best,” you say.

“You don’t pay me enough to listen to you fuck milfs,” Natasha jokes.

“Well then, maybe next time you’ll just come in and join?” You ask, only half seriously. Natasha chuckles, but you secretly hope she considers it.

Until then, you’ll dream about Wanda and how she felt against your lap. And how her tongue felt against your body.

Until then, you’ll be glad that you reached out to Wanda that day.

[schoenpepper]

Like Raven Feathers

Intro: Riddle does something against the rules. And because of that, he'll fall from Heaven, oh he'll fall, just for you.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, Riddle's mom is mentioned, lots of religious whatever, bro's a simp through and through

A/N: Lookie what I whipped up with a random dose of motivation. Riddle's not even in my top five faves so I'm not sure why the first full fic I'll ever post is one about him. This has no effect on my Isekai'd Chronicles series update schedule, but it does share the same universe so go check it out if you're confused.

Masterlist

Riddle has always lived his life by the Bible of the Church of Light. Every movement is according to scripture, and every choice is made under the guidance of his mother, the Saintess. Since she has the highest authority in Heaven and is the angel closest to the God of Light, surely she's correct in all that she does. Surely he's correct to follow her. He would keep his wings pure and abide by every rule; no one likes a fallen acolyte of Light.

In this little circle, he's safe.

He wakes up at sunrise every day and prays. He does as is taught to him: give his thanks for every blessing and apologize for every failure, for every sin, and for every wrong he's committed. Most days, he doesn't know why he's begging for forgiveness. Today, he does. "Forgive me, oh Lord of Light," Riddle mumbles piously under his breath. "I have done something unbecoming of your servant. I have developed…feelings, for a mortal nonetheless. I have given away the love that rightfully belongs to you. Please have mercy and forgive this poor soul."

He never says a word about repenting.

After ten minutes of prayer, he makes his bed, takes a bath, straightens out his feathers, and brushes his teeth. Then it's time to double-check all the items he needs for classes and ensure that he's done all the assignments necessary for each day. He has breakfast with the rest of his dormitory members after giving thanks to his Lord for the food. There's another prayer after eating.

Another careless apology leaves his lips.

Classes go by far too slowly for his liking. When he sits at the cafeteria for lunch, his blue-gray eyes search for the mortal that's been in his mind for far too long, far too often. They light up when he finds you.

There's you beyond his circle, just out of reach.

Riddle isn't shy when he asks you to spend lunch with him. When you agree with a smile, his heart seems to beat faster than before. Too fast for his brain to keep up with. He's short of breath around you; you make him unable to even think. He's like an electronic toy short-circuiting in water. That's what you are, after all—strange, unfamiliar territory he isn't allowed to traverse. But even the first angels fell to temptation, so who is he to be the exception?

You're the sweetest forbidden fruit.

He has to go back to class eventually, but he hates that he does. That's weird, that's wrong; he's Riddle Rosehearts, and studies should be his priority after his God. But his hand is out of his control when he doodles little hearts on the border of his notebook (why would he do that? It's so childish, so immature.).

After class, he sends you a text to ask you to study with him in the library. Alone, preferably, because your friends always raise a ruckus (that's the excuse he tells you and himself). He feels content, happy, when you show up by yourself. The two of you sit across from each other, and he reviews topics for you that he still remembers clearly from his first year. Riddle finds it fun. Perhaps some would call it tedious, but he thinks that you're a worthy use of his time. He gets paid by the way you pout when you're struggling with a question. He feels fulfilled when you smile that bright smile, all teeth showing, eyes squinted into crescents, when you claim to finally understand something you've been struggling with for a while. He thinks he can die happy in your arms when you hug him in excitement and thank him for tutoring you.

You trespass into his little circle.

He packs up too soon because you have some commitment with some other person; he's alone in the library now. He sees the way other people look at you. You're just so uniquely you; he understands they want you the way he does. It doesn't mean he'll relent his efforts to snake his way into your heart. You're something he desperately wants, needs, even.

He's envious of the way other people make you laugh. Riddle's never been the humorous type (do you like that type better?). He's too strict, too strait-laced. Maybe you don't think he's fun, or cool, or interesting. Do you even think of him at all?

He still can't touch you.

When he's back at the dorm, he spends the rest of his time buried in his assignments. Perhaps getting you off his mind is the best thing he can do today. He's unproductive when you're the only thing on his mind, so he buries you underneath mountains of schoolwork.

Why can't he reach you?

He lays in bed after another prayer. The same apology is said. He can't even bother to change it. At some point, he'll stop asking for forgiveness. Some time in the future, he'll only confess his love for you in his daily prayers without being sorry for it. Falling in love with a mortal is wrong. Praying insincerely is wrong. But you, you, oh, you're everything that's right in this sinful world. His mother will never understand him.

But the God of Light will.

Because he doesn't even know when it started, but you've become his light. He fears for the darkness that will swallow him when you're gone.

Don't choose someone else. Don't find someone else. Don't love someone else.

He'll leave his circle on his own.

And when the angel falls, he'll make sure he goes out with the most glorious fireworks.

With you.

[betterfettered]

Ok but imagine if the Mc they got was religious.

Like daily prayers, church going. Pretty much full fledged christian ending up in devildom with literal demons.

•Religious!mc who devoted their life to christ getting railed by the demon bros (especially lucifer).

•Religious!mc who was saving themself for marriage can no longer do so after her nights with the boys.

•Religious!mc who wore a cross necklace clutching it around her neck as they get railed from behind.

•Religious mc! who prays for forgiveness after begging for more the night before.

(I’m sorry but corruption kink is top teir + first time doing something like this so idk if it’s like worded correctly)

Anonnamin this ask gels so well with another one that I got about a super sweet MC from my moon anon!

Alright, but imagine this. A cute little reader who is just SUCH a softie Like, they are the type to help old ladies cross the street, volunteer at soup kitchens, work at a bakery, always give the brothers random little gifts that remind them of them, and just wholesome stuff like that. But the poor bby always blames themselves for any problems, like they are such a little ball of sunshine who is always blaming themselves, it's quite sad actually. Like they are always trying to brighten everyone's day and smiling, but if someone even slightly raises their tone at reader, reader will start tearing up and apologizing. They are just such a sweet little thing, and like the entire school absolutely loves them and a lot of people see reader like a little sibling figure. Because of this the brothers absolutely love this innocent cute little reader who only wants to make everyone feel happy and loved, but then their are all the other students at school stealing away reader's attention and protecting reader when they see how obsessive and possessive the brothers are. (Reader has no clue though lol, absentee parental figures gang, don't know what healthy love is ✌) (If the brothers get born mad at reader, reader will cry and isolate themselves because "they aren't enough for them" and "they probably don't wanna deal with me right now", and just close themselves off) Moon anon 🌙

I'm gonna combine the two of them together into an ask about a super saintly MC. 🧚🏿 If you feel like there was something I missed feel free to send in another ask~

It's killing me to imagine a terrified religious!MC waking up and meeting real life villains from the bible LOOOOOL literally wakes up, is introduced to The Actual Lucifer, passes back out again hahahahahha

I mention a trans girl with a dick in this, I don't know if that needs a warning. If you read this and appreciate the warning, please let me know somehow. Otherwise I'm not going to mention this kind of thing again.

(Gn!reader x AMAB!yandere, please let me know if reader is gendered)(noncon)(violence against reader)(gaslighting)(exhibitionism)(drugging)(plus size reader 💖🫡)(blasphemy, but you knew that LOLOL)(18+ readers only please, mdni)(Please let me know if I am missing a TW)[This is fetish content and rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

Yandere!Lucifer would soon feel pretty protective over an MC like this, especially because he thinks you're so foolish easily taken advantage of. He would also appreciate how obedient you are, it's so much easier than needing to tell his brothers to do or not do things over and over again. In a sense, he would protect you from things that he would do to you himself: he's not going to let concerned students at RAD take up all of your time because he himself is going to take up all of your time. He's not going to let other people order you around but he certainly is going to order you around. Most importantly, he won't let other people force you to live your life one way or another because you will be living life to his exact specifications.

I think on the other hand that he'd be kind of personally offended by your brand of religiousness. It intrinsically paints him as a bad guy and makes his reasoning out to be unjustified which, even if it weren't a sore spot, contradicts what he likes to believe about himself. I think his real cruelty streak would start to show around how he dismisses your beliefs. The first time you earn yourself a bad punishment from him, he'll be determined to hurt and violate you in ways that you would not have been able to imagine before, shoving toys into you that are way, way too big for only your first time, putting chained clamps on your nipples and tugging them until you are hoarse from screaming, forcing orgasm upon orgasm onto you until you it only hurts, paddling you until you're shaking. He'll ask why your God isn't helping you, but no answer you give him will be the right one (earning a larger toy or maybe another paddle): the real answer is because you like what he's doing to you, it's what you've always wanted, and your God knows that.

Yandere!Mammon would be sooo bad with this kind of MC LOL He's such a scammer that he would completely take you for all you're worth. You'd both end up broke and in trouble because of him LOLLL He has a hard time admitting when he's done something shitty, so he might allow you to blame yourself for things quite a bit, maybe even use your low self esteem to guilt you for spending time with other people at school vying for your attention (I'll circle back to this).

I don't think he'd have it on him to outright force himself on you because you're so innocent and sweet. Instead, he'll probably slip a double dose of an aphrodisiac into a snack he serves you and wait for you to come onto him. Imagine always wearing a religious robe and, after being drugged, hurriedly yanking it up in a daze so you can dumbly grind on Mammon's thigh and grab his wrists so you can rub his hands all over your body because you have no idea what to actually do about being horny LOL After he fucks you until you're satisfied, he'll let you think that the entire thing was your idea all along. If you get way too torn up about your sinful thoughts and behavior he might grudgingly admit that maybe you ate something strange. Circling back to the above, he is happy to take advantage of your guilt and naivete but he does have a kernel of morals deep down.

Yandere!Leviathan would be obsessed with your purity and good heartedness. I don't even want to mention her in this context because she is a child but honestly your personality would align with a lot of the kinds of things he likes about Ruri-chan. It's the ideal magical girl: chipper, sweet, always trying to help others etc. He'd be quietly obsessed with your religious behavior: you might be praying and then look up and see him watching you, or when you are helping people with things in public he follows you around and tries to help, too.

Unfortunately, the more he becomes obsessed with your purity, the more dirty thinking about you sexually will become to him, which means it makes him all the hornier LOL You'll start to notice him staring at your body and giving you lingering touches on your legs and shoulders. When he finally can't take it any more, he will want to shield you from the corruption as much as possible. He'll sneak into your room at night with a blindfold, tie it over your eyes and tell you to just go back to sleep. Obviously you wouldn't be able to sleep through someone taking your virginity, so he'll just try to soothe you as you cry even though he's fucking you way too hard because of his inexperience. You feel dirty and bruised once he's done with you, but rather than comfort you, he'll apologize by insulting himself and saying how awful and wicked he is and how you deserve better. You are always inclined to blame yourself, so even though you still feel his handprints all over you and the weird slipperiness between your legs makes you feel disgusting, you'll tell him it's not his fault and wonder what you must have done to provoke him. Levi is one of those people who says "I am a bad person anyway so might as well do it again", so expect the nightly visits to continue. You'll spend them clutching a cross as tightly as you can and praying, sadly unaware that that is only turning him on more.

Yandere!Satan wants to study you like an academic subject and needs to know everything about you that there is to know, so he'd be very very interested in your religion since it's such a big part of who you are. He also doesn't have as much experience with the celestial realm as the other brothers, so is more open to hearing about what is in your Bible since he doesn't have his own beliefs about it. You would literally be doing "Bible study and chill" with him where he listens to you talk about God and read scripture, and you would be so pleased when he seems like maybe he is thinking about converting. After all, to you helping him see the Lord's light is one of the kindest, sweetest things you can do.

That's why when the "and chill" part comes in you would feel so shocked and betrayed. You're sitting on his lap, reading pages out loud to him when you feel his teeth latch onto your neck and his tongue move back and forth over the sensitive skin while he gropes you. Maybe you're confused about his intention, so you ask what he's doing while he pins you face down by your shoulders, pulling your ass up and against him. You'd be confused and trying to explain that this isn't pious at all when he tells you he doesn't believe any of that shit at all and never did, and the shock would be so deep you don't even cry while he pulls your clothes off and throws your Bible to the floor carelessly like it's trash. Like Lucifer, he's the type to ask something like where it says in your scriptures that you should cum all over his face while he gives you head, or to slap you and actually quote Bible passages about meekness to you when you try to resist, asking if you really even believe what you read to him.

Yandere!Asmodeus is going to think how innocent you are is so cute and try to corrupt you immediately. Imagine you have baked some cookies, and you are going to give them out. He'll offer to go with you and then right before you step into the classroom he'll catch you by your waist, pulling your soft body back towards him until his arms are smushing your stomach. Asmo will whisper with his lips against your ear that every one of these people who is vying for your attention because you're so sweet actually just wants to be the first one to breed you, that when you hand them cookies they just think about fucking every hole you have. He'll ask what hole you'd use for which person until you struggle to get out of his arms and run away.

But even when you're gone, you can't help but think of his question every time you hand out a cookie, or in gym when a girl tries to talk to you and you can see her cock through her pants you can't help but think you want to take her in your mouth because it would hurt anywhere else. It's embarrassing and flustering and makes you want to be by yourself, which is a perfect time for Asmo to come and find you, to yank your robe up and point out how aroused you are. He'll narrate what's happening to your body, explaining it's totally natural to feel that way when you want to have sex, and asking who you saw that made you so horny.

He'll do this as long as he needs to until you are begging him to help you with this feeling between your legs that's driving you crazy and makes it hard to sit still in class. When you apologize to god before begging him to fuck you, he'll tell you that there's no need to. God gave you these feelings so you could act on them. He wants you to feel pleasure.

Yandere!Beel would be annoyed with how you let anyone who wants your attention have it, and he'd dislike how you always trust your god to keep you safe instead of him. God lets bad things happen all the time, so in his mind thats a ridiculous system. Whenever he sees you clutching your cross or praying, he will demand to know what it is you're asking for and try to give it to you himself. He thinks religion and your cross is a distraction from your relationship to him, especially since he's met all the people you're talking about and none of them are that special to him. If he wants your attention, he just cuts in to where you are and demands it, even if that means picking you up and carrying you away.

Yan!Beel will always fuck you when his libido outpaces his sense of control, but when he hears you praying he'll be enraged. You don't need that stuff! He'll try to rip your cross off of your neck, but the chain is too strong so he ends up choking you by it. You'd better say that all you need is him, to calm him down. Otherwise, expect him to yank you around by the chain like its a leash, pounding you so hard that you can't catch your breath to pray or beg him to stop. After he cums he'll just jam him fingers into you, stroking you with his other hand until you say what you want.

Listen I love Yandere!Belphie being insane as much as the next cockwhore, but I think he would actually be really, really kind to an MC like this. He went to the human world often to meet new kinds of people since he loves learning about them, so he'd be really comforted by how sweet and gentle you are while also loving how you hold him while he naps and let him tuck his cold feet under you all the time. He likes your prayers because they put him to sleep and give him good dreams.

What would make him snap is the constant attention to other people. He's often waiting for you in bed, so waiting hours and hours just to find out you've been with other people would drive him absolutely crazy. You might be tutoring a few other students and he comes in, seizing you by your hair and slamming your head down onto a desk. You squirm and plead for him to stop, but he'd still rip your clothes off and fuck you in front of them so they know that you are his. Even while you're sobbing he'll say (loud so they can all hear) that he can feel you clenching down on him, so you must love it. You'd turn your head to ask the other demons for help and see most of them with their hands in their pants and their eyes smoldering with lust. The fact that you'd be in so much pain losing your virginity in front of a crowd that you struggle like crazy and pray to be saved just makes the show more interesting.

[gurugirl]

I miss the priest and his pet!!

What about if we get to kind of see a continuation of where she was sitting on his lap with him inside her while he was getting his homily ready at the end of part 3??? Because that was hot and I want to know where that went. There’s no way they didn’t have hot seggggs after he was done.

Summary: Harry lets you sit in his lap while he finishes his homily. But you continue being a brat so he has to take further measures to get you in line.

A/N: Thank you for this request! Loved writing this one - though it's been in my drafts for months! Enjoy babe! 4k words

Warning: 18+ only, smut, bondage, overstimulation, cage play, dom/sub dynamic

Priest!harry Masterlist

✞✞✞✞

Excerpt from Ch. 3 of Forgive Me, Father (read for refresher)

“You’re naughty today. You were given a lot of attention already this morning pet. You know the rules. But let’s try something else now. Climb up into my lap and sit over me. But you have to stay still, otherwise, I’m going to tie you up and put you in your cage where you’ll stay until I’m done.”

Harry helped her stand up and she sat over his lap, facing him. Harry held onto the base of his cock as Y/n angled herself to slip down over him. She watched his face as she slowly encased him and Harry was barely holding it together. He pulled her into his chest and she tucked her face into his neck so he could see his work as he scooted back up to the desk and picked up where he left off once Y/n had coated him with herself fully. The tiny squeezes and clenches felt good around Harry’s big dick, but he remained calculated as he read the scripture he was using for inspiration for the homily he was preparing for Sunday mass.

✞✞✞✞

Y/n was a very good girl for nearly ten minutes. Harry was impressed. His pet had been a bit of a brat all day but it seemed all she needed was just to be close to Harry. He'd let her sit with him as long as she kept still.

Her warm breath was humid against Harry's neck and he could feel her breathing in soft puffs. Her naked body sat against his clothed one as she gently shifted over him.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment to call on a higher power to control himself. The girl was warm and wet and her walls were clenching around him each time she tilted her hips.

Harry was prepping for his Sunday homily. It was a Friday and it was important for him to have it ready that evening so he could go over it again the following night to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

He scribbled a note in the margin of his Bible and then jotted down a verse in his notebook when he noticed his pet shifting back and forth very very slightly. The tiny tick of her hips and the way her pelvis tilted and she squeezed around him was delicious but he needed to finish before they could really get to playing.

"Little girl," he said in a tone of warning, "what did I tell you?"

Shifting back a little so she could look up at him she rounded her eyes sweetly and batted her lashes, "Sorry, Father. I'll stay still."

"Not what I asked you. What did I tell you was going to happen if you didn't stay still?"

She bit her lip and let her eyes wander to the side of the room before slowly bringing her faux innocent gaze back to Harry, "You said you would tie me up and put me in my cage."

Harry hummed, "That's right. If you do that again I will have you sitting in your cage away from me until I'm done. If you're a good girl for me, you can sit here in my lap and you'll get to feel me inside of you the whole time. And when I’m done, then we'll play."

Y/n nodded. Her soft bottom lip bit into her mouth.

Harry pulled her into his chest as he turned his attention back to his homily. Y/n sighed and he could feel her fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt. But she was being good keeping still and not moving over him. For a few more minutes.

Harry's focus was already interrupted by having her in his lap as her soft and wet pussy kept his cock nice and warm. But when he noticed her breath pick up and he felt the way she was gently pulsing herself around him he sat his pencil down and she moaned at the small movement he made and then rocked down over him once. And then twice. A third time.

"You're a brat today. So you'll get the punishment a brat deserves," he spoke and he moved her off of him and stood up, grabbing her by her ponytail and leading her to the bedroom.

"Father! Please! I need you! Please!!" She squealed as he opened up the cage.

She put her hands onto his forearms and he let go of her hair, "Get in."

Immediately she fell to her knees and grasped onto the fabric of his trousers just under his knees, "No. Please! I just... I need you so bad today. Father," she pressed the top of her head into the space between his knees before slowly craning her head back to look up at him, blinking her eyes with her lips set in a pout, "please."

Harry stood tall and unmoving. He wasn't buying her act. She loved all his attention on her when they were home alone together. It wasn't the first time she'd interrupted his studying because she was too needy. Sometimes he'd give in but the more he gave in, the more she did things like this, thinking she could possibly persuade her dominant to let her have her way.

She needed to learn her lesson. He couldn't leave another homily prep until the last minute. He hated to rush. Hated to feel like he wasn't prepared. He'd allowed it too many times, secretly enjoying the way she needed him and begged for his attention.

"In the cage."

Y/n let go of his pants and put her hands in her lap as she looked down. She wasn't moving.

"Do as you’re told like a good girl."

No answer. Just a huff.

Harry sighed and shook his head as he went to the dresser and removed the red cotton bondage rope.

Kneeling behind her he pulled at her arms and drew her wrists behind her back and began winding the restraints together upward toward her elbows until the fit was snug and she would be unable to get out but not so tight that her circulation was cut off.

As he stood, he pulled her with him, grasping the back of her arm, and brought her into the cage, where he had her sit on her pillow, moving her legs to the side and began to wrap more rope around her ankles.

She didn't say a word as she kept her head down.

"There," the priest spoke when he'd finished tying her up as he stood to close the door.

"Please don't go,” she spoke with her face still downcast.

Harry latched the door closed and paused, "Look at me, pet. Right now."

She turned her head and tilted her neck back so she could look up at him.

"Are you okay?"

She sat for a moment as she blinked her eyes. She just wanted his attention. She hated when he was so focused on something else.

"Please will you give me one more chance? I'll be good this time."

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, "I have to get my work done. You are making it impossible. Last week you pulled something like this and I had to rush through finishing my homily last minute,” he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and tried to keep a grin from breaking out onto his face (because she was so cute and he actually enjoyed this kind of play with her), “You’re naughty. Stay in here until I’m done. And I don’t want to hear a peep from you either or I’ll have to gag you.”

He took the skeleton key from his pocket and placed it into the lock, twisting it and securing the door. Harry looked back over his pet to make sure she was okay. As much as seeing her in the cage with her hands and ankles tied gave him a tinge of excitement, power he always wanted her to be okay.

When Harry left the bedroom he closed the door behind him and she whined quietly. She knew she deserved this. And he might not fall for it anymore. Last week she really made a scene. She was a brat, interrupting his work repeatedly. He spanked her. She resisted. So he put her in her cage (but made the mistake of not locking it because she promised to be good) but she got out and crawled to him begging for his attention. He put her back in the cage, tied her arms above her head, and gagged her. And by the time he sat back down he was fully distracted, turned on, and too much time had gone by to get his mind back into his work. So he didn’t finish his homily that night. Rather, he listened to her muted whines and grunts from his work desk and planned out a more appropriate punishment for her.

And now, a week later, here they were again. He loved to play with her. He enjoyed their dynamic but she had been quite a lot brattier over the more recent weeks. So he was being made to stay on his toes with her. It was fun. He actually liked this. But he truly did have a homily to finish.

She was tempted to call for him. Or whimper loudly so he could hear it. But she decided against it. She didn’t know what had gotten into her exactly. She just liked having his attention on her. Liked it even if was in the form of punishment (but of course she liked punishment and spikes of pain that led to an overflow of oxytocin afterward).

She shifted on the pillow, trying to keep herself in a comfortable position, sitting on her bottom and bending her knees into her chest. She used her feet to push herself back against the cage to lean onto the cool metal, her arms behind her digging into the bars. She rested her head back and closed her eyes. She’d try to be a good girl for her priest. Y/n knew getting his homily finished was important to him.

With every line Harry wrote and each passage he read and contemplated, he couldn’t get over how quiet she was being. Why was he now unable to stop wondering what she was doing (which was obviously nothing because he’d tied her up and locked her in her cage) when he’d finally gotten her to be quiet and could focus on his work?

He groaned and closed his eyes. It had only been about a half hour and he had made some ground in preparation for Sunday, but he didn’t get as far as he wanted. He hoped to be mostly done at the half-hour mark but he was far from it. In fact, at the pace he was going it would take two hours to have everything prepped.

Looking toward the bedroom door he had an idea. It would make for a long night but in the end, they’d both get what they wanted and he could clear his mind to focus on the task at hand when he was done with her.

She popped her eyes open when Harry stepped into the bedroom, “Father! Are you done?”

Harry unlocked the cage door and grasped her underarm to help her scoot out of the metal enclosure and he lifted her up to bring her to the bed, “Not yet. But I’ve decided to show you mercy.”

The truth was that he was just as needy. His cock was still half-hard in his pants the whole time he’d been studying and so he was really the one that needed mercy if he were to tell her the whole truth. He needed his urges soothed.

Lying on her side she stretched her neck to see what he was doing behind her but he was across the room and she was unable to get him in view.

“Need to calm you down. Make you feel all soft and pliable so I can get my work done finally.”

Y/n grinned to herself. She knew the truth. She’d been good and quiet for a while but he couldn’t stop thinking about her and now he was the one that needed to calm down so he could concentrate. She’d done her job then.

When she felt the bed dip and Harry grab her wrists, he pushed at her to lie face down into the mattress. He lifted her ankles up, pushing them close to her wrists behind her back, and began tying another rope in between to attach her ankles and her wrists.  

He tugged at the braided material when he was done and grunted. She felt the mattress shift and she turned her head to look at her priest but he swatted her bottom with the leather paddle and she squealed, “Face down.”

She could hear him removing his clothes. She loved to look at his body and ogle him. He was fit and muscular. And he was strong. He always handled her as if she weighed nothing and she knew it was because he was in such good shape. But she took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she kept her face into the comforter below, using her sense of hearing to determine what was happening next.

Harry kneed up behind her and nudged her thighs apart so he could have access to her. Smoothing his hands over the outside of her thighs and up to her hips he pulled at her and lifted slightly before she felt his fingers spreading her cheeks apart.

She was vulnerable tied up this way. She couldn’t move much. She was able to open her thighs up and twist to her side but that was about it.

Suddenly Harry’s fingers were in her ponytail and he pulled her head up with one hand as he stuffed the gag ball into her mouth with the other. He buckled the gag in place and released her hair so her face fall back into the mattress. But with the gag, it was far less comfortable. She’d deal with it, though. She’d had worse.

“Was this what you wanted?” Harry spoke in a deep voice. Dominant and dark.

She moaned as a response and the priest laughed, “Oh. My sincerest apologies. You can’t talk right now, can you? Well, I guess that’s a good thing since you’ve been trying my patience for most of the day. I’m gonna fuck you and make myself come. I don’t care if you come at all,” his words were tight as he pushed his thumb into her labia, already wet for him. He actually did care if she came. In fact, the intention was to make her come until she couldn’t take it anymore. And since Harry knew just how to do it and make it happen fast, he was going to torture her with overstimulation until he finally came himself.

A stinging smack against the side of her bum with the paddle caused her to groan but the next smack had her eyes watering. The third rendered her silent as drool pooled onto the blanket below her mouth where she was gagged.

When he’d gotten her nice and red, and the skin was raised and hot to his touch he chuckled at how quiet she’d gotten. But the glistening from her pussy was the giveaway indicating how much she enjoyed it. She loved being spanked. He loved spanking her.

Suddenly she was being pulled at again, her hips brought up another few inches when suddenly she felt the cool silicone of one of the vibrators enter her pussy. Harry pushed it in slowly but she was fully aroused and ready for it. He brought it into her until it was secured and the front tip of the silicone that laid against her clit was in place. She knew this vibrator. This was the one that had her coming fast because of the way it vibrated against her clit and curled into that yummy spot on the inside. He turned it on and cooed at her when she moaned around the gag, “S’good isn’t it pet? This’ll have you nice and subdued for me while I come in your ass.”

She was already shaking and her heart was racing by the time Harry had prepped her bum for his cock, adding lube and fingering her open.

Harry could hear the way she was moaning and breathing through her nose heavily. He’d have her nice and worn out for him by the time he was done.

Filling her bum slowly she suddenly stiffened and her muffled moans were louder, “Aww, poor baby. Did you need to come? You can if you need to.”

As he continued to prod into her he could feel her clenching around him and he held the vibrator back in place as the way she was squeezing and pulsing nearly had the toy being pushed out, “Ah ah ah… this stays in.”

She wasn’t in any mind to understand what he was saying as she had her first orgasm, letting the electricity heat up her core as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. When she began to come down she squealed as the vibrator was buzzing against her sensitive clit. She tried to cry out around the gag but the noise was muffled and her drool only increased. Her chin and cheeks were drenched. But now she was feeling his cock too. He was slipping himself in and out, pressing into her deeply and moaning above her as her pussy was still being stimulated.

Harry kept his hand on the vibrator as he fucked her. The vibrations filling her insides and tapping into his cock the entire time. It felt good. Harry loved fucking her when she had the vibrator in.

“Your bottom is all red but your pussy is dripping pet. You’re so needy today. You were even taken care of this morning and yet here you are on the cusp of coming a second time in less than five minutes.”

Harry smirked as he eyes the scene below. Her ankles and wrists tied together behind her back, her sore bottom needing a bit of soothing (which he’d get to later), her pussy packed with the vibrator and the little nub at the end dancing over the hood of her clit, shiny with arousal, and his favorite thing to see; the way his cock filled her bottom and how she opened up wide for him.

Each time Harry’s hips met her ass she was shoved forward slightly. He was inside of her deeply, moving in and out, making her brain turn to mush when suddenly she was hit with another wave of ecstasy. She gurgled and clenched hard around the toy and her lover’s cock as he continued pounding into her.

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. He needed to last as long as possible, which he knew wouldn’t be long with how worked up he’d been and good she felt around him at that moment.

Her shaky limbs were stunted by the rope as he fucked into her fluttering muscle.

“Fuck…” he let out a curse. His own hips stuttered as he struggled to keep it together. But part of her punishment would be to come a couple more times. He knew he could hold out.

She whined and arched her back at the excess of sensations. Her clit was revolting, her pussy was clasping and leaking, her ass was getting stuffed so hard it ached.

Harry buried himself into her and paused for a moment, the little toy buzzing and making him moan. He had to still himself for a moment before he came as his balls were already tightening and preparing for his orgasm.

But the way his orgasm continued to slowly build he knew he had to pull out. The vibrations alone would make him come. He slipped himself out and panted as he held the vibrator inside of her and used his other hand to hold the rope to keep her position for him.

She was making soft little whimpers and her hips were gently swaying as she was trying to fight the hyperstimulation. But she was powerless against it. Because she began to come again for the third time. Harry choked out a moan and watched as her body convulsed and her neck tightened, causing her head to lift upward. Her tensed muscles had her constricted limbs jerking in compact little movements.

When she had come down from her orgasm and began to wiggle away from the vibrator (which was impossible as he kept it in place with his hand) he finally dipped himself back in and gasped. His cock twitched and the sensation was delicious.

“Gonna come again, pet? Bet this will teach you to behave, won’t it?” His words were panted as he languidly pushed and pulled himself into and out of her tight hole. His thick cock was being squeezed and petted by her insides as he sunk into her repeatedly.

He watched her closely as he clenched his jaw holding back his orgasm. He wanted her to come once more before he poured into her.

And it came quickly. When her body tensed again and her soft muted moans grew louder around the gag he began to pump himself into her harder and faster as his release finally took over.

She jerked around him as she came and he pushed into her until his come was filling her. He stopped his hips as he spurted warm sperm from his tip inside her but her body was trembling and lurching.

It was so much. So much. She thought she would simply cease to exist. Her body didn’t feel real. Her insides were melted by his cock and the vibrations from the toy. It seemed as if she didn’t exist as a human, but only a thing that kept coming involuntarily and was being used as a holding vessel for her priest.

When Harry clicked the toy off she felt her heart beating again but her mind was elsewhere. Her body floating in the clouds above.  

The priest pulled his cock out and watched as his come dripped from her ass. He’d leave her lying on her side, filled with his come, tied, and gagged as she came down while he finished his homily.

Now he was ready to get his work done. His mind was cleared, his body relaxed. And afterward, he’d untie his sweet girl and kiss her all over, put her in a warm bath, and speak softly to her as he brought her back.

He kissed her temple as he gently laid her on her side, “Stay here and relax. I’ll be back for you, pet.”

She was in a dream state with her eyes closed and her body like jello so she didn’t even notice when he finally returned and his warm hands deftly untied her until her arms and legs were free and the gag was removed. He kissed her wrists and her ankles and her bottom before placing her in a tepid bath. He held her to his chest and whispered to her.

“Such a good girl. I love you, pet. My little sweet submissive. I’m right here when you’re ready.”

She could hear him. His words and his voice but to unscramble the sentence and make any sense of it was difficult at first.

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and squeezed every now and then to switch up the sensation and bring her back as he continued speaking into her ear, “Tomorrow we’ll have a movie night. Whatever you want to watch,” he chuckled when he felt her move and she groaned lightly, “How does that sound?”

Harry stayed with her and coaxed her back slowly with soft coos and touches, damp presses of his lips on her neck and cheek.

They’d both gotten what they wanted. Harry finished prepping his homily and Y/n had gotten his attention. He adored having her so soft and gooey after she came so many times and her body was limp, but he loved it even more each time she began to come back to him, her doe eyes blinking and soft sighs falling from her mouth.

Helping her dry off and steadying her as he brought her to the couch with a big blanket he tucked her in and brought her a warm tea with honey to share.

“Father?” Her first real words to speak since he’d had her gagged.

He looked at her as he secured her red leather collar back to her neck (which he’d removed before the bath) and her eyes were on his, “Yes, pet.”

“I’m hungry too.”

Harry smiled and took the mug from her hands and placed it on the coffee table.

“You know what? So am I. I’ll make us some cucumber tomato sandwiches with that cheese you like. Does that sound good?”

She nodded and hummed, “Yes, Father. Thank you.”

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[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Angel of Small Death

Part 7 in my Halloween mini series!

Dark Priest!Billy Russo, Dark Priest!Matt Murdock, Dark!Frank Castle

Warnings: Major blasphemy, dub-con, corruption, spanking (with a Bible), very very inappropriate use of said Bible, oral (f), edging, being held in place.

You check on Billy in the morning.

He has no recollection of ever being in the attic, no clue how he got there or even why. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep the night before.

He looks so concerned, so worried, that you don't bother to tell him about the things he did, the things you wanted him to do.

Your heart hurts a little at the thought, that all of his words had no meaning, that those hungry, ravenous kisses weren't meant for you.

It helps you grow more complacent with the idea of Father Murdock's punishment, that your loyalties were to God, and this monastery, and a few moments of weakness couldn't define you.

Your head is held high when you step into Matt's office at midday, prepared for whatever punishment he would dole out.

You would take it, and you would grow from it.

But you stiffen when you step in to find a person you’re not expecting.

“Mister Castle?” You ask curiously, your stomach going queasy with anxiety.

Frank turns, lifting his head from the bible in his hands, looking at you in an expectant and eager way that has you second guessing the strength of your resolve.

“Hey sweetheart,” He murmurs, snapping the book shut, “you’re right on time.”

“On time?” You question, wondering exactly how much he knew. Glancing around the room you note that Matthew isn’t even here.

He gives you a cryptic smile, moving toward you, placing the bible onto Matthew’s desk, before stopping in front of you.

His face is contemplative, stern, he raises a hand, trailing the backs of his fingers over your cheek.

Your breath catches as his touch tingles across your skin.

“Billy keeps touching you when he knows he shouldn’t.” His voice ripples across your skin, that spot between your legs warms slightly. 

You swallow, feeling the need to defend your longtime friend.

“He was just confused, he didn’t mean to.”

“No?” Frank asks, “And what about the night he came into your room to taste you? Was he confused then?”

Your eyebrows draw together.

Had that actually happened? Was it not a vivid dream? How did Frank know about it?

You can’t find the words to express your disbelief, searching his face for any indication that he was lying to you.

“That didn’t happen.” You protest weakly.

Instead of responding, his smile only deepens.

The sound of the door locking behind you draws your attention, and you turn to see Father Murdock standing at the door.

“I’m happy to see you came,” Matthew says, and you frown, opening your mouth to tell him that you hadn’t had much of a choice.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this.” Frank answers. You glance at him, your brain teetering on overdrive as you try to fit pieces together that don’t go quite right.

Matthew leans his cane against the door, carefully approaching the both of you.

“And you, little one, are you ready to accept your sins and work towards redemption?”

You straighten.

“I am.”

“Good.” he says with finality, approaching you.

He reaches out, fingers finding your rosary around your neck, tracing the pearls.

“Tell me about this.” He says.

You swallow, glancing down at the rosary in question.

“It’s been passed down through each Mother Superior for generations. I inherited it when she passed. God bless her soul.”

“I see, and how did she die?”

You blink, wondering how he hasn’t heard the bizarre story yet.

“She got sick, they all did, every senior person in the abbey. It was horrible.”

“You poor thing.” Frank says, stepping closer behind you, and you turn to look up at him.

You give him a weak smile.

“It happens, I guess. The Lord’s reasons are not always known to us.”

He chuckles, lifting a hand to hover it over your rosary as well, never actually touching it.

“I suppose so.” He murmurs.

“Remove it,” Matthew’s voice interjects, “We are going to begin your punishment now.”

You nod, shakily tugging the rosary over your head, wrapping it around your fist with the expectation that you’re going to pray.

“Bend over my desk.”

You freeze.

“Wh-what?”

Matthew angles his head, saying Frank’s name, your eyes dart between the men as some kind of silent exchange happens.

Frank smiles politely, reaching out to grip your shoulders.

“I don’t think he wants to repeat himself, sweetheart.” Frank says, turning your body and guiding you toward the wooden desk.

Your hips pressed flush to the desk, you gasp as he presses on your shoulder, bending you over the table.

When you try to protest, and raise your body, Frank reaches to grip your wrists, pressing them down.

It renders you somewhat immobile, Frank moves to sit in the chair right in front of you, almost at eye level, while he keeps his grip firm on your wrists.

“What is going on? What kind of punishment is this?” You ask, wriggling, confused as to how this will redeem you in any way.

You feel hands settle on your backside, tugging your skirt up slowly.

“This punishment,” Matthew says behind you, “Is designed to make you reflect on your sins, to associate any thoughts of defilement with discomfort.”

Frank’s grip tightens on your wrists, drawing your attention.

“Don’t panic,” He whispers, leaning in close to you so that his voice is right in your ear, “Just look at me, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

His eyes do calm you, the warmth of his hands and the smell of sage that fills your senses eases your nerves.

You let out a slow breath, nodding at Frank.

Your eyes widen dramatically in the next moment when you feel your undergarments tugged down the length of your legs.

Your lower half is exposed to Father Murdock, and you stiffen when you feel his bare hand grip at the flesh of your cheek firmly.

“Let’s start simple,” Matt starts, “Was that the first time you’ve let a man touch you?”

You swallow.

“No.”

Something firm comes down on your rear, it makes a dull sound before you feel a gentle sting.

You turn your head, catching sight of the Bible that Frank had been reading earlier in Father Murdock’s hands, but as soon as you see it, Frank’s free hand is on your jaw, twisting your vision back to him.

He shakes his head.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He commands.

You shiver, nodding, mouth dropping open at the flood of sensations you were experiencing, that… wasn’t quite bad at all.

“When was the first time you let someone defile you?” Matthew asks.

Frank's eyes study your face as you contemplate your answer.

“I kissed Billy, i-in the gazebo in the cemetery, when I was around seventeen.”

You gasp, feeling another hit against your rear, your eyes rolling in pleasure for just a moment.

“Is that all?”

“N-no, I kissed him a few days ago, in the same place.”

The bible hits you again.

“He’s the only man you’ve ever kissed?”

“Yes.” You answer honestly.

“But he’s not the only man you desire.” Matthew continues with a statement, and not a question.

“Um,” You murmur, trying to stall.

The bible comes down harder on your flesh, and you can’t help the moan that leaves your mouth.

“Please, Father Murdock, I’m sorry.”

His palm presses to your heated rear, fingers dipping down until they brush against your most intimate parts.

“You don’t feel sorry, little one, you feel wet.”

A whine leaves your throat, his fingers probe you, gliding over your cunt, pausing on your aching bud.

“Is this what you want? Does it excite you to be touched like this?”

You don’t answer, dropping your head in shame.

Another spank, this time a little harder than you expect.

Tears pool in your eyes.

“Yes, Father.” You answer honestly.

Another hit, followed by another. The pain stings, your body hot, the little spot between your legs throbbing, begging for attention.

You feel his hand, pulling your legs further apart, before something rubs against your center.

You tip your head back, mouth open, but before any sound can get out, Frank is pushing his thumb into your mouth.

“Not too loud, we don’t want anyone to hear you.”

Tears slip from the outer corners of your eyes, down your cheeks to pool in his hand, Matthew rubs the spine of the bible between your thighs in a slow, agonising movement.

You moan around Frank’s thumb, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure you’ve never felt before assails you.

Frank’s rough thumb sways over your thumb, you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his.

Matthew continues to give you pleasure, instead of pain, rubbing the indented leather spine along the seam of your cunt, pressing in, circling against you for a few moments.

Your fingers curl around your rosary, an aching throb begging you to tilt your hips up and rock your body further onto Matthew’s bible.

He spanks you again, and your only response is to suck on Frank’s fingers more passionately.

You flutter your pleading eyes at him, trying for the first time, to seduce, to encourage him to pleasure your body.

Frank smiles, dark eyes that seem to bore right into your soul, he leans forward to delicately glide his nose against yours.

“You take punishment so beautifully, sweetheart.”

You lean into the palm of his hand, accepting the compliment gratefully.

Your head swarms with pleasure, approaching that peak so easily you can almost taste it, Matt behind you, quietly pleasuring you.

You groan in dismay when he stops, feeling his hands smooth over the curves of your behind.

Your face is so close to Frank’s that you don’t react when you feel his tongue dart out to lick your tears away. You’re surprised at the way it feels, very different from Billy’s rougher, longer, an oddness to it that you cannot put your finger on.

You accept your fate, at the mercy of these two men, wondering briefly how Billy would fit into the mix.

Frank pulls his thumb out of your mouth, gripping your jaw softly so that he can press his mouth to yours.

At the same time, you feel a tongue dart out to lick between your legs.

You feel like putty, being molded anew, as Frank kisses your lips and Matthew kisses your cunt.

You gasp into Frank’s mouth, feel him chuckle, his lips taste sweet, soft, his tongue- dextrous and wicked, delving into your mouth with expert precision.

Humming, you note hazily that Frank’s tongue has two points, the movements are vile, delicious, you want to feel like this permanently.

Matt’s tongue is no less capable, licking hungrily at your wetness, humming into your delicate skin, kissing the areas that he’s punished with his bible.

Your toes curl, fingers tight around your rosary, head floating. Your body trembles, your breath stalling in your chest as bliss approaches. 

Matthew’s tongue withdraws, and you find that the disappointment is almost too much to bear.

You stiffen, eyes searching Frank’s, begging for something more as Matthew rights your underwear, pulling your skirt over your legs.

Frank withdraws too, you glance down, watching as he removes his hand from around your wrists, his palm holding odd marks where your rosary has touched him.

“Why?” You whisper helplessly.

“Punishments are not supposed to feel good, little one, they’re supposed to make you want to be good.” 

Your body responds eagerly to Matthew’s words. You find that he’s right, you want to be good, you want- more of what he gave you.

“How do I be good?” You ask timidly.

Matthew helps you stand on shaky legs, his mouth- pink and glistening- no doubt with your arousal.

“Obedience.” He answers your question, carefully untangling your rosary from your hands and placing it around your neck.

He takes a second, running his thumb across your bottom lip gently, the gesture heavy with affection.

“I have to go now, but I'll see you later?” He murmurs.

You nod, looking up at him with glassy eyes, wondering if you were too much above begging for release.

You don't get a chance to contemplate it further, before he leaves.

You drop your head, contemplating your actions, before turning to look at Frank.

“I'm confused.”

Frank chuckles, moving around the table to stand before you.

“What's troubling you?”

“I was just punished for letting Billy almost defile me last night, and in the process, he- you both- well you defiled me in a way too.”

“That does sound confusing, yes.” He agrees, stepping in closer. You take a deep breath, enjoying his masculine scent.

“I think, sweetheart, you just have to accept that these things are barely going to make sense from now on.” 

Your eyebrows draw together in further confusion. He reaches up, fingers stroking your jaw to bring your attention back to him.

“You really are beautiful.” He says, deep in thought. You feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“Th- thank you.” You whisper.

.

“When was the last time he was seen?” Sister April asks.

You wait, listening to Sister Margaret's mumbled response.

“Perhaps at morning mass yesterday? Definitely not after that. Father Murdock even confirmed that he wasn't in the dormitory last night.”

“It was pouring last night,” you recall, “Could he have gotten lost somewhere?”

Sister April lifts her shoulders.

“It’s possible, everyone is looking for him, hopefully he is found soon.”

You nod in agreement, concerned for one of the monks residing here. 

You’d been so caught up with Billy, Matthew and Frank, that you’d let your duties to your people fall short, and now someone was missing. 

It was hard not to blame yourself.

.

.

.

[semisgroupie]

LURED AND ENTICED BY DESIRE — OCT. 9th

priest!atsuya kusakabe x fem. reader

wc: 4.2k words

warnings: sacrilegious, blasphemy, sex in a church, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple play, finger sucking, using Bible verses in lewd ways, kusakabe has a surprise piercing, smoking

synopsis: at the end of the day a priest is still a man, a man with wants, needs, and desires and right now, his wants, needs and desires revolve around you. will you let him indulge?

a/n: i’m so sorry this is a little late, work got crazy and my writing schedule suffered because of it! what’s a venus kinktober without sacrilegious content?

kinktober masterlist

He leans against one of the walls of the back of the church as he brings the lit cigarette to his mouth. He takes a deep inhale and looks up at the sky before releasing the smoke. He glances at the cigarette, it’s about halfway done and he wants to spend some more time smoking it but more important matters call for him. He drops the cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his foot before lifting himself off the wall.

He adjusts the clerical collar around his neck and smooths his hands over his thighs before he walks to the back entrance of the church. As he walks inside he hears someone clear their throat, he raises an eyebrow to see one of the parishioners narrow her eyes at him.

“You’re young Father Kusakabe, smoking will make you die faster.” He chuckles as she scolds him, she’s a sweet old woman who always looks out for him. He nods and flashes a smile at her, “I’m trying to quit Mrs. Nagashi. I’m still a man with really bad vices, these cigarettes are mine. I’ll quit one day, I promise I will.” The woman just nods and goes past him to enter the area where mass is held. He takes a deep breath and turns to head to his office. He opens the door and closes it behind him before walking to his desk. He sets the pack of cigarettes with his lighter down and grabs his bible to see which sections he marked for today’s mass. He chuckles as he reads the first marked verse, James 1:14-15: But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. “How ironic,” he mutters to himself as he reads through the rest of the verses he marked.

He is then interrupted when there is a gentle rapping on his door, he sets down the bible and leans against his desk. “Come in, the door is open.” He waits for a moment and watches how the doorknob turns before the door opens, revealing you. “Hello Father Kusakabe, I’m sorry for intruding right before mass is about to begin but I wanted to ask if I could go to confession today with you. There’s something weighing on me heavily and I have to get it off my chest before it gets the better of me.” You chew on your bottom lip and look at him as you take a few more steps into his office, letting his office door close behind you.

His eyebrows knit together and he takes a few steps closer to you then places his hand on your shoulder, “what’s bothering you, my child? It must be weighing on you terribly for you to come into my office like this. You look like you’ve barely slept, I’m here for you.” He gently squeezes your shoulder and meets your eyes. “I’ve been dealing with temptation, it’s been so strong and it makes me feel so horribly for thinking the things that I’ve been thinking. It’s so wrong but I just can’t help myself. It makes me so nervous, Father.” His eyes widen at your words and he moves his hand up and down your arm as an attempt to soothe you. Just as he opens his mouth to respond, his door opens and one of the fellow church workers peeks their head inside, “sorry to bother but mass is ready to begin.” They leave with that and Kusakabe sighs, “stay behind after mass, we’ll come back in here and talk about what’s bothering you. You won’t need the formalities of a confession, whatever you have to say will be heard by me and God.” He offers you a smile and you nod, “thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you.” You mirror his smile then pull away to leave.

He watches as you leave the room and once the door closes he lets out another sigh. “What I wouldn’t do for another cigarette now.” He mumbles to himself as he grabs his bible. He thinks for a moment and glances at the first verse he noted for today’s mass, temptation. God, he had been fighting temptation since you first started going to mass. Something about you was just so irresistible, the way you bit your bottom lip whenever you were nervous or deep in thought, the way your eyes looked whenever his gaze met yours during mass or one of the charity events, he wanted nothing more than to drag you away somewhere and make you cry for him in pleasure. Of course, he couldn’t. He had his vows that he committed to and you’re the walking billboard of innocence. But he wanted you more than anything, to feel your lips on his, to feel your skin pressed against his in a sinful dance.

He was ripped from his thoughts again when the loud music of the pipe organ bleeds through the church. He takes a moment to gather himself before leaving his office and going straight to the podium. He sets his bible down and looks through the crowd to search for you. Once he meets your eyes, he smiles and places his hand on the podium, “the Lord be with you.” He begins his mass and goes over the highlighted verses. As mass continues, he watches you closely, watching how you shift uncomfortably and chew on your bottom lip. He wants nothing more than to relieve you of whatever is on your mind and he wants to rush through the mass but it would be an injustice to you and every other parishioner.

He moves from behind the podium and goes down to where the communion wine and the bowl of communion wafers. He takes the bowl and lifts it up, “take this, all of you, and eat it. This is My Body which will be given up for you.” He then sets it down and lifts up the chalice of communion wine, “Take this, all of you, and drink from it. This is the cup of My Blood, the Blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.” He sets the chalice down and smiles at everyone, “Through Him, with Him, in Him in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father, forever and ever.” He holds out a wafer to each parishioner that comes forward then holds the chalice so everyone could take a sip from it then you come forward. He takes a wafer and holds it out but instead of you taking it from his hand, you lean forward and open your mouth. His breath hitches at the sight of your pink tongue and he slowly places the wafer down on it then he moves to grab the chalice and holds it up to your mouth so you can take a sip. He doesn’t even know how he’ll be able to continue through the rest of mass with a clean mind, just seeing your mouth so open for him, awaiting for what he had to offer just made all the blood rush south.

He continues through the mass and finally reaches the end, “The Mass is ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” He watches everyone leave then makes his way over to you, “come on, let’s go back to my office.” He holds his hand out to help you stand and steps aside to let you lead him back to his office. He can’t help but let his eyes travel your figure, watching how your dress hugs your ass. He bites his lip then snaps his eyes back to where they should be when you start to speak, “thank you for mass today, everything you said was very enlightening.” You smile then step aside when you reach the door to his office, he steps around you and opens the door, holding it open for you to walk inside.

You walk in and sit down on the small plush sofa on the side of his room. Your fingers go to play with the hem of your dress and you only lift your head to look at him when he closes the door and locks it. You watch as he walks over to grab a chair and sits down on it in front of you, making it creak whenever he shifts his weight on it. “Now, tell me what’s troubling you.” He clutches his rosary in his hand and moves his fingers along each of the beads while you prepare yourself to speak.

“I’ve been plagued with horrible thoughts, Father. Thoughts that shouldn’t be in my mind to begin with and it makes me feel disgusted towards myself.” He knits his eyebrows together as you speak and leans in a little to place one of his hands on top of yours, “please tell me everything. I can’t help you if you give a vague confession. You won’t be able to truly repent.” You nod and look down at his hand, you can’t believe that you’re finally going to speak about your sins to his face. “I’ve thought about you, Father Kusakabe. I’ve been thinking about you in a lustful way, imagining you doing things with me and to me when I’m alone, it makes me ache and I have to touch myself. I’m so sorry.” Your voice breaks when you apologize to him and you can’t even bother to make eye contact with him, too ashamed with what you confessed to him. You can’t see the way his eyes widen at your words and how he clutches his rosary tighter in his other hand to control himself.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize to me. It’s a good thing that you’re getting this off your chest, it’ll allow you to feel better about yourself. It’s natural to be tempted, considering how close we have gotten since I’ve started preaching here, all the time we’ve spent together for any event the church has held and I’m not that much older than you. It’s okay.” You nod at his words and chew on your bottom lip before lifting your head to look at him. “Father, can I ask you a question?” All he does is smile and nod before you continue, “have you wondered what life would be like if you weren’t a priest? I mean, you weren’t always a priest. There was a time where you lived a normal life, without any of the restraints of a priesthood.” He’s taken aback by your question, why would you want to know that? There had to be more to this.

“Of course I have, I’ve wondered what it would be like if I didn’t turn my life around. I’ve thought about what it would be like to do what I want without feeling judgment, to only worry about regular things like what I wanted to make for dinner or what time I’d have to wake up to make it to work on time, I’ve wondered about how it would feel to devote myself to someone other than God.” He speaks openly and you start to feel bad for what you’re going to ask him next. “Do you miss sex? I’m sure you must still get aroused and there’s only so much masturbation you can do before you get tired of it.” Your shyness and worries fade away as you look at him and he just chuckles at your question and comment, only if you knew how he truly felt.

“The right answer I should tell you is, no. That now that I have devoted my body and soul to God, I should not worry or want to involve myself in sin and allow myself to crave sin of the flesh. But, the honest answer is yes, more than anything. I can’t tell you how much I crave it and since this is our impromptu confession, I should confess that you’re the figure of my desires. I want nothing more than to just go over to you and bury myself into you until I fill you with my cum. I want to see the way you arch your back and how your voice sounds when you’re on the brink of pleasure. I want…” he stops himself and clutches his rosary tighter, as if that’s what he really needs to control himself. “I want a lot of things, I want a lot with you but it is against everything I’ve been taught. It’s against my vows and as badly as I want it, it’s not right.” He loosens his grip slightly on his rosary and takes a deep breath, he needs a cigarette.

Your eyes widen at his words, it fills you with relief to know that he feels the same way and it fills you with even more desire to know he’s just as depraved as you are. “But Father, if we keep having these thoughts and desires, wouldn’t it be okay to just indulge in them once? How can we truly repent if the temptation to sin in such a way lingers in the backs of our minds?” He smiles at your words then looks at you, “because once wouldn’t be enough for me. I’d need to have you wrapped around me all the time, to feel you writhe against me, to swallow your moans and whines with my lips. Just a taste will make me addicted.” He confesses and lifts one hand to rake his fingers through his hair. The longer you’re here, the more his self control starts to crumble.

You lean in a little more and place a hand on his leg, “then we’ll indulge. We’ll get our fill of each other whenever we can and then repent later. It’ll be better that way, don’t you think? Instead of having these thoughts just plague us. You can pretend to be who you were before you became a priest, give yourself some sort of normalcy again.” You look into his eyes, pleading with them as if your words haven’t done enough. “You’re a real temptress, doll. I hope you know that but we can’t, I’m supposed to lead you away from temptation, not help you indulge in it by doing so myself. What kind of priest would I be?”

You think for a moment then it hits you, why not use his own words against him. “But what about one of the verses from today? From Corinthians? ‘No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.’ We’re both dealing with our own temptations and God brought me here to you today to confess them. I think this is God’s way of showing us how we can endure them. We can help each other out with this, instead of letting it fester to something worse.”

He chuckles as he thinks over your words, technically you’re not wrong but he knows that’s not what was meant when those words were written. He can’t deny himself anymore, you’re right in front of him, telling him to have you in the way he so desperately wants and he’s just been trying to find reasons to stop you. He places his hand on top of yours and gently squeezes it. The other hand that has been clutching the rosary opens, you hear the rosary beads hit the ground but you’re distracted when his hand cups your face. You can feel the indentations from the beads against your cheek and he leans in, capturing your lips with his own. The kiss is slow at first, as if he’s testing the waters but as you lean into him more, he deepens the kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth and groans against your lips as you suck on the wet muscle.

He moves his hands from their places and moves them to your hips, gripping them tightly to bring you onto his lap. He doesn’t break the kiss as you straddle his lap and his hands move to your ass, urging you to grind against him. The chair underneath you both creaks as you grind against him but it’s nothing that concerns either of you in the moment. He finally breaks the kiss and starts kissing down your neck, nipping at the skin there as he gets to the plunging neckline of your dress. He licks along your collarbones and his hands bunch the hem of your dress and move up. He hurriedly takes it off of you and tosses it aside, he looks at your bra and panties. “Fuck, did you expect this to happen today? Such thin fabric, I could see everything without even taking it off of you.”

He reaches behind you to take off your bra and tosses it to where your dress is and leans in, latching onto one of your nipples while his calloused fingers toy with the other. You whimper and moan his name, lifting one of your hands to his hair to tug on the soft strands. He groans against you and looks up at you as he releases one of your nipples with a soft pop. He sticks his tongue out to flick it a little before pressing it to your skin as he switches nipples. He gives the other the same treatment and you tug on his hair more, making him bite down a little, which in turn makes you gasp, “Father Kusakabe, please.”. “Atsuya.” He mumbles against your skin and your eyebrows knit together, “enough of calling me ‘Father’, call me by my name. Now I’m not the priest of this church, I’m Atsuya. Call me as such.” You nod and let out a whimper of his name as one of his hands cup your cunt. He moves his fingers to rub your clothed clit and you start to grind against his hand more, desperate to feel more pleasure.

“Atsuya, I need you. I want to feel you please, I can’t wait any longer.” You pout as you move your hands to the buttons of his cassock, undoing one at a time. He chuckles as he watches the pout on your face grow, “doll, there’s 33 buttons. You’re going to spend more time trying to take them off than you should, I have a very easy solution for you.” He moves his hands to cup your ass as he goes to stand, he walks you over to the wooden desk then once he places you on it, he takes a step back and pulls on his cassock until it opens completely. A ripple of buttons hit the floor and he moves to pull his boxers down, revealing his hard cock as it slaps against his stomach.

You lick your lips at the sight and they widen as the light bounces off two metal balls at his frenulum. He follows your gaze and smirks as he spits on his hand, “what can I say? I was drunk off my ass one night when I was 19 and I ended up getting the piercing. You like it?” He wraps his hand around his cock, smearing his spit on it as he takes a few steps closer. He grips the base and taps it against your covered clit, leaving you wanting more. “I like it a lot, I’ve always wondered if you had piercings.” You move your hand down to pull your panties to the side and he groans seeing the strings of arousal that coat your pussy. “I used to have a tongue piercing too but I had to get rid of it when I started getting into this.” He drags the head of his cock through your folds until he reaches your entrance. He circles it with his tip and bites his bottom lip as he starts to push into you.

You throw your head back and reach behind you to hold onto the desk. He hooks his hands under the backs of your knees and lifts your legs higher as he bottoms out. “God, fuck.” He pants out as he looks down at where he is inside of you, seeing how prettily you stretched out for him. He starts moving and the tip of his cock drags deliciously against your walls. “I can’t believe you denied yourself this for so long, it’s a shame.” You moan out as he reels his hips back then slams back into you. It knocks the wind out from you and he does it again. He bites down harder on his bottom lip and he keeps his eyes on how your pussy grips him. He can’t believe it either. You’ve been going to his church for almost two years now and it's been the same time since his lusting over you had started. He fucked his fist to the thought of you countless of times, dreaming of this moment.

“Now I don’t need to deny myself, doll. I have you here and I’m going to fuck you this good every time you come to church. Maybe I’ll even make some house visits for some private bible study.” He smirks and finally tears his eyes away from your pussy to look at your face, seeing the pleasure filled expression. “Like the sound of that? I could bend you over every surface of your house, make you cry out in pleasure then you’ll come to mass on Sundays. Everyone will be completely unaware of our transgressions, they’ll still see you as a devout church-goer and they’ll still see me as the closest man to God. It’s funny to think about it, I’ll be up there preaching and you’ll be sitting there thinking about where and how I’ll defile you next.”

His words come out in between groans and grunts as he picks up the pace of his hips. The wet noises from your pussy bounce off the walls of his office along with the creaking of the wooden desk you’re seated upon. He moves a hand to your clit and starts rubbing it in time with his thrusts, making your legs tremble. “Atsuya…I’m-I’m gonna cum!” You dig your nails into the wood as he continues thrusting and he smirks as he slows his hips. The action makes you whine loudly, “Atsuya! Why?” You look at him with pitiful eyes and he leans in to peck your lips, “you need to beg for forgiveness before that happens. Let's go with Psalm 51, you remember it don’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow and he could see the gears turning in your head, “if you can’t recite it then I’ll stop. I’ll just fuck my fist until I cum all over that needy, swollen pussy.” You swallow thickly and lick your dry lips, “H-Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin…” you go to continue but he goes back to thrusting into you, slamming into you harder than before. “There we go! Good to know that my words and sticking properly. What kind of priest would I be if my messages were never remembered? Now, cum for me. Make a mess all over my cock and I’ll fill you.” His cock hits your sweet spot each time he bottoms out and it doesn’t take long for you to be sent over the edge.

You moan out his name as he helps you ride out your orgasm then overstimulation starts to kick in as he starts chasing his release. You let out moans and gasps of “so good” and “‘m so sensitive” but they fall on deaf ears. “Ready for it, doll? Ready to get filled to the brim?” He doesn’t even look at you as he speaks, his attention is back and laser-focused on your pussy. His cock twitches and he starts to cum deep inside of you, he groans and pants as the cum continues to pump out of him in thick ropes. He watches as some starts to leak out of you and around his cock and he moves his fingers to collect what comes out then brings them to your lips. He looks for a moment as you lick them clean, lewdly moaning as your tongue swirls around his digits. He takes a few seconds before pulling out of you and goes to cover your pussy before any more cum could escape.

He picks you up again and kisses you deeply, his tongue slipping back into your mouth as he blindly walks to the plush couch you were seated upon when this all began. He keeps you close to him as he sits and keeps you on his lap as he continues to kiss you. He breaks the kiss for a moment and chuckles, “well, that was one of the most interesting confessions I’ve had. I can’t wait for more like this. Thank you for coming in today, thank you for finally letting me hear your desires, but most importantly, thank you for letting me indulge in sin with you.”

taglist: @briefrebelfanalmond @jianyi22 @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network

[hier--soir]

under the night | six

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] language, being held captive, angst, serious violence, torture, injury, blood, discussions of murder, threat of sexual assault [DOES NOT HAPPEN], very brief discussion of religion/the bible, idk if you think i missed anything please let me know word count: 6k part five | series masterlist | main masterlist

Clink, clink.

Maria was drinking a cup of earl grey tea. The bergamot has a calming effect, she’d said, would you like a cup? Her spoon swirled in the teacup, bumping against the china every so often as she mixed in a sugar cube. The cup was pretty, a cream colour with pale pink gerbera flowers painted along the porcelain. Clink, clink; the spoon knocked the side of it again, the woman still unsatisfied by the granules of sugar visible in the dark liquid. It was the only sound in the room, bar the soft pattering of rain on the roof, as the four of them sat silently around Maria and Tommy’s dinner table.

Joel huffed in frustration as she finally lifted the spoon from the liquid and placed it gingerly on the saucer, before raising the cup to her mouth and taking her first sip. She sighed happily, relaxing in her chair as she savoured the taste.

“Okay,” she murmured, looking around the table.

“Oh, we can talk now?” Joel snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. “You’ve got your fuckin’ tea and now you’re ready?”

“Joel,” Tommy warned his brother quietly. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Well, she could’ve fuckin’ fooled me,” he said spitefully in the woman’s direction. “It��s been days, and you haven’t ordered any searches, haven’t questioned anyone.”

Maria raised her hand to stop him, “It’s a delicate situation.”

“No, Joel’s right,” Cal spoke up. The bags under his eyes were heavy, hair greasy and slicked back off his forehead; the appearance of a man who hadn’t slept in days. “You run things here, and I always thought you did a damn good job of it too. But she’s gone missing, and you’re just sitting back and waiting? For what?” 

“Things are returning to normal here,” she said lowly. “People are calming down, and I don’t want to raise any alarm bells if I don’t need to.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Joel all but snarled.

“It means that I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to leave,” she levelled at him, one eyebrow raised accusatorially. Clink, clink. He flinched as she dipped her spoon back into the cup, tapping it against the rim. “Ellie told me.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand forming a fist below the table. “Told you what exactly?” 

Maria gave him a conspiratorial look. “She told me about being strangled, Joel. She came here a few days ago, upset after hearing the news, and we talked. Ellie worries that she might have left out of guilt… and I must admit, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.”

“Wait,” Cal’s eyebrows raised in alarm, eyes darting between Maria and Joel. “What the fuck are you talki-“

“No one was fuckin’ strangled,” Joel ground out, doing his best to stay calm. “Ellie wasn’t hurt. And she wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us; there’s no god damn way she’d even think to go outside those gates alone.”

Joel’s mouth twisted into a pained grimace at Maria’s insinuation, shaking his head jerkily. The last conversation he’d had with you played on his head in a constant loop, the image of your face distorted in despair, the feeling of your guilty tears on his neck – it tormented him. Kept him awake all night, and on edge all day. The idea that you might have decided to leave, out of a misplaced sense of guilt, or fear, or… or because of something he’d said. His chest tightened at the thought. He’d told you not to stay at the house if he wasn’t there, hadn’t he? That’s why you’d gone home alone that night, instead of coming back to him. It won’t happen again, is what you said. Joel mulled the words over in his mind endlessly, searching for a hidden meaning in your tone that he might have missed; a plan to leave him.

Tommy watched the three of them silently, the corners of his mouth downturned in dismay. To see Joel be so distraught was hard for him. Ellie had confided in Tommy that Joel had hardly spoken for the past three days. That he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating. She kept a close eye on him and didn’t pry; simply sat quietly in whatever room he resided in, and just kept a watchful eye on him. Tommy couldn’t thank her enough for it. He’d watched his brother experience so much loss, so much heartache, and he cringed to realise they were witnessing it happen to him all over again.

“She wouldn’t leave me,” Cal broke the silence, his voice cracking on the last word. He reached up hastily to wipe the corner of his eye. “We made an agreement when we first got here. If either one of us decides we aren’t happy, then we leave – together. No questions asked. She wouldn’t break a promise.”

Joel glanced at the younger man, absorbing his words with a blank expression. It still unnerved him sometimes; to gain further insights into the tightknit bond between you and Cal, but he pushed all negative feelings down, knowing the he was right.

“She’s still in Jackson,” Joel said with a tone of finality, straightening his shoulders.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Maria asked. “I’ve already asked so much of our community, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”

“Some fuckin’ community it is,” he muttered. “Women gettin’ stolen out of their god damn homes.”

Tommy gave him a look that said, not helpful. Joel ignored him.

“We question them – all of them,” he asserted. “Ransack every fuckin’ house in this town if we have to. She’s here somewhere – whoever’s doin’ this can’t keep her hidden for long.”

Maria nodded slowly, sparing a short glance in her husband’s direction. “We’ll question people then. If we go to the right ones, someone is bound to spill something.”

Tommy stared at his brother, taking in the way he stared intensely at the woman. “You can’t be a part of it though,” he said softly. Joel’s head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowing.

“Tommy,” he glared, only to be quickly interrupted.

“You’re too high strung, both of you are,” Tommy said, glancing between Joel and Cal. “If you’re out there knockin’ down doors, you’re just gonna scare people off, and somebody will get hurt. We can’t risk you two causing a scene.”

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Cal grunted, hand smacking down on the table.

“You won’t be,” Maria said firmly. “Someone needs to be waiting if she shows up. So wait. If she shows up at either of your homes, you’ll be there.”

“You’re fuckin’ delusional if you thin-“

“Stop,” Maria interrupted softly. “Have either of you taken a moment to consider it might already be too late? It’s been three days… Do you really want to be the ones to find her if she’s…. I’m trying to keep you both separated from this, for your sakes.”

“I’m not fuckin’ listenin’ to this,” Joel grunted, pushing his chair from the table and stalking towards the front door. With his hand gripping the doorknob, he turned his head to the side, staring back at them from the corner of a tear-filled eye.

“She is out there somewhere, alive, puttin’ up a goddamn fight. And when I find her,” he spoke with his back to them, voice dangerously quiet. “I’m going to kill everyone who had anything to do with this. And you two won’t be able to stop me.”

Joel didn’t need to look at him to know that Cal agreed.

The curtains were always the first thing you saw. When your eyelids managed to crack open, to break through the dried blood that crusted over your eyelashes, you would always notice them first. Large, bundled drapes that reached the floor, covering the walls, concealing the windows and any potential natural light. It was so dark all of the time, and so time had lost meaning. You couldn’t tell how many hours, or days, had passed. All you knew was that the curtains, made from a dark fabric, with pictures of small birds sewn onto them, were the first thing you saw every time you opened your eyes.

Sparrows, the thought whispered through your mind. Little sparrows sewn into the curtains.

A small metal table was positioned in the corner opposite to where you laid on a thin mattress, arms tied to a pipe protruding from the wall. Sometimes your eyes flickered to it, trying to glean what was on it, but it was futile because of the distance. Candles were placed sporadically around the edges of the room, providing a vague yellow light to the space which allowed you see these things. But no natural light meant not knowing when the sun rose and fell., so you learned to rely on a different schedule. Twice a day he would bring a meal into the room, and you did your best to note the time passing, but even that provided little relief. Dehydration and pain had you dropping in and out of consciousness, and you rejoiced in the respite that sleep brought. Sleep brought quiet. Waking, however, brought with it a stark reminder of where you were.

An unpleasant stretching sensation resided in your arms. The muscles burned from hyperextension from constantly stretching behind you to the wall, your hands numb from a lack of blood flow due to how taught the rope around your wrist was pulled. But no matter how uncomfortable, you never turned your back to the door. That way he couldn’t enter the room without you seeing him immediately.

The throbbing in your foot, and the smell of metal was always what you noticed next. Blood stained the lower half of the mattress, and you did your best not to look down. But the smell was overwhelming, and you knew you had to see how much blood you’d lost. Your right foot was caked in dried blood, and the sight of one of your toes missing was enough to make your stomach curl every time, as waves of violent nausea rolled through you.

“That’s fine,” you whispered hoarsely, attempting to convince yourself. “Never used that one anyway, can live without it.”

Talking to yourself helped. Although your thoughts were often delirious and half-baked, hearing your own voice out loud brought a certain sense of calm.

And you’d formed a routine. Where every time you woke, you calmed your breathing, and forced yourself to decide how you were going to behave. How to survive another encounter with him. You’d chosen violence the first time, and you came to sorely regret it.

He’d been watching you that first day; waiting for you to stir. It had been dark, but you still saw him instantly. Cross-legged on the floor beside the mattress you laid on, dark beady eyes bearing down on your skin like weights. The itchy burn of rope against your wrists wasn’t as noticeable at first, for you were distracted by the thick wad of material in your mouth, placed there to keep you silent. When your brain had fully woken up, you’d glared at him in a wide-eyed panic, moaning urgently against the cloth between your teeth, tears brimming in your eyes. No, no, no, no.

“Shh,” Lincoln had murmured, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “It’s okay, shh.”

Tentatively, he reached down and tugged the cloth out of your mouth. You sucked in sharp panicked breaths, staring up at him as the feeling of white-hot terror spread through your veins, all the way from your neck down to your feet. It was him. All along, all the women, it had been him. This embarrassing, weak man, who’d had you fucking fooled. You’d thought him a creep, but not this. Never this.

“Breathe,” he’d whispered, stroking your cheek with his fingers. Heaving sighs tore out of your mouth, and you turned your head in his hold, brushing your nose along the palm of his hand. His eyes shone with appreciation at the gesture, and he smiled. “You’re here with me now. It’s just you and me.”

Holding his gaze for a split second longer, you sank your teeth into the flesh of his hand. He shouted in pain, attempted to pull back, but you bit him harder, deeper. The taste of metal filled hit your tongue, but you didn’t let go until his other hand struck you across the face, knocking you back.

He'd hit your left side, and the all-too-familiar buzzing soared through your ear, exacerbating the pounding in your skull. “You cunt,” he spat, rising to his feet. He glared down at you, cradling his wounded hand against his chest.

And then his foot was slamming into your ribcage. “You stupid,” kick “fucking” kick “cunt” kick. The breath left your body, and you curled in on yourself on the thin mattress, wheezing, until he gave up.

“You won’t do that again,” his reedy voice called out from behind you. “Do you understand?”

Your back was to him, eyes clamped shut as you tried desperately to regulate your breathing. A stabbing pain burned in your right side, flaring every time your chest expanded with a breath. His hand came down on your shoulder, flattening you on the mattress.

“Speak,” he had snarled. “You will answer me when I talk to you, SPEAK.”

Your bloody lips stayed sealed in defiance, glaring up at him. Slowly, the corners of his mouth began to turn upward, lips stretching open to reveal a faded set of crooked teeth until he was grinning down at you. “Okay,” he nodded, reaching into his pocket and walking to the end of the mattress. “You want to see what happens when you disobey me in my house? I’ll show you what happens.”

It had been quick.

Flashes of it were burnt into your memory, but the feeling of the moment evaded you when you thought back on it. Him kneeling on your shins, saying “Do as I say, or I’ll clip your wings, little bird.” Pliers in his hand. The feeling of the cold metal on your foot. The smell of iron. A pinkie toe on the floor, by the mattress, in a crimson puddle.

Your hoarse, tormented wails had filled the room so suddenly that Lincoln was cursing while he stuffed the rag back between your lips, muttering something about people hearing you.

He had loomed over you, torso pressed against yours, gritting his teeth and laughing. Put his hands around your neck and whispered of the stories he’d heard about you, that he’d wondered about you since the day Tommy introduced him to you. “I think that was the moment I decided,” he said. “The moment I knew you were going to be mine – it was the very first time I saw you.”

“I wanted to know what he saw in you,” he’d jeered, breath hot against your neck. His hand gripped your throat, squeezing your windpipe intermittently, only ever letting up when your eyes started to roll back and the pressure inside your skull from a lack of oxygen started to become unbearable, only to increase the pressure again once you’d had a few seconds to breathe. “I’d always thought you must be a good lay, if you’ve got big bad Joel Miller whipped like a dog. Realised pretty damn quick I’d have to find out for myself.” Your arms fought tirelessly against the ropes that bound you to the wall, limbs thrashing beneath him, trying to inflict any sort of pain on him.

You frantically mouthed the word no around the rag, lungs heaving in search of oxygen. The last thing you saw before you passed out was his haunting grin.

And you were smarter after that.

Lincoln was hard to read. When he came to the room next, he acted as though the altercation had never happened. And so you followed suit. You listened when he spoke, and answered accordingly. You ate the food he slid across the floor to you. You held in a disgusted reaction when he gestured to the candles around the room one time, and said, “Romantic isn’t it? Candlelit dinner for two?”  

In the quiet moments, your mind would float away, and you’d allow yourself brief moments of respite, imagining that you were somewhere, anywhere, else. In your dreams, you were with Joel. Safe in his home, in his bed, playing scrabble with Ellie on his porch while he kept score. You tried to remember the way his laugh sounded, or the way his hands felt on your skin. But everything was warped, the memories unclear. Your brain lacked clarity, and the pain distracted you. And Lincoln could tell where your thoughts went in those moments; you almost feared he could read your mind. As if your brain was splayed open before him, and he was pecking at it in curiosity.

“No one will find you,” he’d say softly. Never nastily, but in a tone that was matter of fact. “They aren’t coming for you. It’s just you and me now, sweet girl.”

You would blink away the tears in your eyes and try not to let him see how afraid you were that he was right. Your memories with Joel felt so hazy, and the last time you’d seen him he had been devastated. He feared what you’d almost done to Ellie, feared how out of his control it had been. Maybe it’s for the best, the thought raced through your brain. Maybe they’ll be happier without you.

Those thoughts were the hardest to shake. And they cut deeper than any injury Lincoln could ever inflict.

One night, when it felt like almost a week had passed, Lincoln entered the room holding two plates.

“Dinner time,” his thin voiced called, and a chill ran down your spine. Slowly, you pushed yourself into a seated position, cringing as pain shot through your side.

He placed a plate beside the mattress before tenderly undoing the rope around your left wrist.

“Eat up,” he murmured, taking a few steps back before settling onto the ground and picking up his fork.

You gazed down at the raw red marks around your wrist, basking in your favourite moment of the day – just a few sweet minutes of ‘freedom’. With an aching chest, you saw what rested on the plate. A kind of dark meat, and a small serving of parsnips.

Oh, Joel.

Sucking your lips into you mouth, you willed the tears in your eyes to dry up, desperate not to let him see any sign of weakness.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Lincoln reaching out across the space between you, and then he placed his thumb and forefinger over the big toe on your right foot, squeezing it once in a silent threat. Your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to pull away. Speak.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered hoarsely, staring at the food.

“It’s dinner time, when else would I feed you?” he attempted to joke, hand leaving your foot to pick his fork up again. When you didn’t respond the smile slipped off his face. “You’re in a bad mood today,” he decided. “I suppose I understand.”

He watched you like a hawk, eyes raking over your features, your bloodstained clothes, the way you gazed despondently at the plate before you. “Surely you can appreciate though… I mean, it’s just… delightful, don’t you see? To see someone be brought down to their basest human form. No sunlight, minimal human interaction. You rely on me for water, for food, for company. I am all you have anymore, and it is simply… delicious.”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you shuddered involuntarily, his words making goosebumps break out across your skin. 

“I think so,” Lincoln nodded contemplatively. “It’s not inherently sexual though, I’ll have you know.” You stared, and he let out a low chuckle, hands raising defensively. “Not entirely, at least.”

“You’ll get caught,” you sneered, ignoring the way a cut on your upper lip reopened when your mouth pulled open to reveal your teeth. “You’ll slip up and someone will notice. Joel will notice.”

“Only time will tell,” he mused around a mouthful of food. “Never been caught before though, have I? Not with Milena, or any of the others before you. Not even with my wife; although it was certainly easier to get away with it in those days. The world had gone to shit – everyone was going missing; assumed to be dead or infected. It was so easy. Our girls never had a clue. They trusted me, you see? My beautiful little birds. Believed me when I told them she was lost, that she must’ve been infected. I think that’s what I adore the most – the trust. It was hard to come by here, in Jackson. People were so wary, I had to build up their confidence in me. Really ease into things, you know? But some of these women, they just saw what they wanted to see. A few kind smiles, some silly jokes, and they were mine.” Lincoln sighed wistfully, gazing absentmindedly at the curtains. “Do you like them?” he changed the subject suddenly. “They’re sparrows. Sewed them on myself.” Good God, he was still so fucking chatty.

Nausea twisted in your abdomen. Acidic bile burned in the back of your throat, threatening to bring up the pathetic contents of your stomach. “And your daughters?” you hesitated, wary of angering him. “I… I remember you saying they died.”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you noticed one of his eyebrows twitch at the mention of his late children. “I let them go quickly,” he exhaled with a shrug. “Painlessly. It didn’t make sense to make them endure this world anymore. It was a mercy, if anything.”

“Fresh out of mercy then?” you asked bitterly. “If you’re so kind, and so fucking merciful, then why the are you dragging this out? Why won’t you just fucking end it?”

Fork dropping onto his plate with a loud clang, Lincoln murmured your name kindly. “Please understand,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. You might be my last for a few months… so I’m trying to savour every minute I have with you.”

You stared at him, blinking slowly as you absorbed his words. How long could you possibly survive down here in these conditions? But the truth was, you knew the answer to that. You knew because you’d survived for years out in the open, with less food and less water than this. Here you had shelter, warmth, food, and water. He could keep you alive for as long as he wanted you.

Realising it had been some time since you responded to him you offered a meek smile and said, “Tell me more about the sparrows.”

Lincoln looked at you curiously. Trying not to appear uncertain, you reached forward and scooped some food from the plate with your free hand and began to eat. The action alone reminded you of Cal. Of dark nights, huddled together in dusty broken-down buildings, eating whatever food you’d been able to find out of the palms of your hands. You sniffled pathetically and tried not to think about him again.

“Good girl,” he murmured almost inaudibly, and you fought off a shiver. Swallowing made your chest ache. Based on the swelling around the middle of your torso, you assumed at least one of your ribs was broken. Even inhaling brought a sharp pain to your right side, but swallowing? That was a whole other world of pain.

Lincoln spoke about the birds, told you how they symbolised joy and simplicity, and your eyes flitted around the room, taking in as much as you could in the dim yellow light. And then suddenly, he was turning his head fully to stare at the curtains. His back was almost entirely to you, and your heart stuttered painfully at the opportunity that had presented itself. From this angle, you were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in his peripheral vision. Was this on purpose? Was it a test? Heart pounding, you worked silently to push the remaining food off your ceramic plate and onto the floor. Eyes focused on him, you waited for him to turn back, to check in on you, to do anything – but he didn’t.

“You know in the bible,” he said thoughtfully. “Sparrows represented God’s love and care for his creations.”

You hummed in response, gripping the plate in your hand and edging forward. Sweat tickled your forward, made your skin itch. You wanted to wipe away the fresh blood that had oozed from your lip onto your chin, but you refrained. No sudden movements. He was so close now, and this chance would not be wasted on you.

Do not be afraid, you thought.

Blood rushed in your ears as you propelled yourself forward, smashing the plate down upon the crown of his skull.

Lincoln pitched forward, his face knocking against the cold ground with a sickening thwack. He howled a ragged, guttural noise of pain, but his movements were sluggish, his reaction time too slow. A fiery pain roared in your side from the movement and you whimpered, dropping the jagged shard of the plate that remained in your hand. Gripping his ankle, you cried out at the strength required to tug his body toward you. He was writhing on the ground, trying to fight against the fog in his brain no doubt, but you pulled him still, until he was perfectly close.

He mumbled your name, and you brought your fist down over his nose, effectively shutting him up.

“Stop fucking saying my name,” you growled, angrily swiping perspiration off your upper lip. This was it. If this didn’t work out, if he regained the upper hand, you’d be dead, no questions asked. You’d started this, and now would certainly be your only chance to finish it. God, your ribs were on fire. You hastily dragged a fragment of the plate in a sawing movement across the rope keeping your other wrist tied, and when it broke away, you heaved a painful sigh of relief.

Planting your knees on either side of his body, you straddled his chest, trapping his arms to his torso. You patted down his body, searching his pockets until you found what you were looking for. The pliers were cold and heavy in your hand. Lincoln blinked lazily, gazing past your shoulder at the roof.

You reached down and gripped the sides of his head. “Look at me,” you seethed, before slamming his head back into the ground. He groaned loudly, but his eyes focused on your face. Blood poured from his nose, spilling into his open mouth and filling the gaps between tooth and gum.

“You won’t kill me,” he garbled out around the crimson liquid. “My little bird… I know you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Stop talking,” you moved to be beside his body and pressed your knee onto his left arm.

“You won’t,” he was speaking incessantly now, rambling. “I know you, you’re good. You’re so good, you sweet girl. You wouldn’t kill, and that’s why I like you. I could see it in you. You’re too good for this world, I’m trying to help you, don’t you see?”

“Shut up,” you snarled, pushing the pliers down until they were positioned around his pinkie finger. “You think you fucking know me? You have no idea of the things I’ve done.”

His eyes blinked lazily, trying listlessly to focus. His free hand reached sluggishly towards your face, and you batted it down roughly. Gripping the pliers in both hands, you pressed down. The sound of his screams filled the room as his pinkie finger rolled across the floor.

“You want me to come into my home,” you sneered. “Take me, hide me away, and then kill me?” Positioning the tool over his ring finger, you cut him slowly, revelling in the pained sounds leaving his body, the way his blood spilled onto your hands as you worked. “Oh, Lincoln. You’ll have to try harder than this.”

Again and again, you worked with a gruellingly slow pace, removing all five digits. You didn’t notice that his free hand was gripping your arm so tightly that his nails had drawn blood. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down. Do not be afraid.

“Please,” he was sobbing, his mouth wide open like a sore on his face, jagged teeth exposed through thin bloody lips.

And yet as he begged, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse, because through the tears, and the snot, and the blood, it wasn’t just Lincoln that you saw. It was that boy, from a decade ago. That boy that climbed on top of you and laughed. Who enjoyed your fear. Who held you down that night, and every night after, plaguing you in your sleep for years. The boy you couldn’t fight. The boy you couldn’t kill. You wouldn’t let it happen again. Never again.

A memory flitted through your mind so quickly it almost didn’t register. But his voice was clear in your head. Joel, and the words you’d shared in front of the fireplace at your home so many weeks beforehand.

“I want to be strong, Joel.”

“You are strong.”

You refocused on Lincoln’s face.

“You want to be in control?” you sputtered, vaguely aware of how deranged your shrill voice sounded. “You want women to be quiet little toys for you to play with in this sick game you’ve created? I’m a fucking person! I’m real!” your voice cracked. “You want to kill me, Lincoln? Let’s see you do it without your fucking fingers.” You realised then that you were crying. Soundless tears streaked down your cheeks, leaving clear trails in the dirt and blood that stained your face.  

He looked on the verge of passing out, and you tore his hand off your arm, stumbling away from his body. You stepped awkwardly on your right foot and yelped in pain, grimacing at the bloody footprint that followed behind you when you walked. Wrapping an arm around your torso, against your ribs, you struggled to breathe. Running on pure adrenaline, your eyes drifted toward the table in the corner. A pocketknife and a lighter laid serenely on the top of it, and you stumbled toward it slowly.  

But a heavy blow landed on the back of your knee, stopping you in your tracks. Your arms flailed as you fell forward, and when you hit the ground, the table came toppling down with you.

“S-stop,” Lincoln was speaking, his speech slurred and disjointed. His bloodied hands clawed at your legs, pulling your body towards him while you thrashed against his hold. Your leg kicked backward desperately and connected with his face, and you screamed at the throbbing pain that shot through your foot.

Neither of you noticed how the table had knocked over multiple candles, or the way fire blazed along the bottom of the curtains. Little sparrows, turning to ash as flames snaked their way up the drapes, slowly engulfing the walls of the room in vibrant red.

You fumbled for the pocketknife on the floor, rolling onto your back just as his weight landed on top of you. His heavy breaths hit your face, blood dripping from his nose and splashing onto your skin.

“Little bird,” he whimpered brokenly. “Why would you ruin this?”

The temperature in the room had risen exponentially, and the pair of you were so close to the wall that it was impossible to ignore now. Wild flames licked at the bare skin of your arm, but you paid the burn no mind, pushing against his face, his neck, trying to get as much distance between you as possible.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he howled, landing a heavy blow across your face. You coughed roughly, blood spitting up from your mouth onto your chin.

You gave up on pushing him back, instead using your hands to fumble with the knife. Lincoln’s good hand gripped your throat, his remaining fingers pressing down on your windpipe. Blood roared in your ears, and you were sweating, and god it was so hot. The air thickened with smoke, making it harder to breathe than it already was. Your hands were so slick with blood that it was difficult to unhook the small blade, but after a few moments you did it. Gasping for air as he bore his entire weight against your neck, you plunged the knife into his side.

A choked sound of surprise fell from his mouth, and then air was rushing into your lungs, and you were coughing harshly, watching as his body collapsed to the side of you.

He was still alive when you crawled on top of him, eyes bulging as he gripped the handle of the blade lodged in his side. You slammed your fist against his broken nose, and both of you cried out in pain. By this point, the fire was roaring through the room, the four walls covered in a beautiful mix of orange and red flames. The heat was sweltering, and so so close that sweat dripped from your nose and chin.

A deafening bang reverberated through the room and you covered your face instinctively. Shattered glass from the windows rained through the air and covered the ground, and moonlight streamed into the room.

Distantly, you thought you could hear voices, or the sound of a door opening, but you ignored it. Impossible. Your fingers wrapped around Lincoln’s spindly neck, and you positioned your thumbs over his windpipe, before pressing downward with all of the strength in your body. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, but you pushed through it, gathering blood and spit in your mouth and releasing it in a spray onto his face. He flinched back at the sensation, and you grinned messily.

You imagined briefly what you must look like; covered in a mix of blood and dirt, hair matted to your head, straddling this man, and grinning down at him.

“Are you afraid?” you whispered.

You could see the light slowly fading from his eyes, and you pressed harder, arms burning with the effort. A burning sensation exploded in your left thigh, but you ignored it, digging your elbows into his chest for leverage and pushing. In the second you realised it was about to be over, there were hands on you. Gripping you, wrapping around your waist, wrenching you away from him.

The foreign hands were pulling you back, tugging you towards the door, but your eyes were trained on Lincoln, as he gasped for air on the floor, alive. You could hear shouting, male voices yelling so closely, but the words were indecipherable. And then suddenly, you were enveloped by cold, winter air. You were outside.

Hyperventilating, you dropped to your knees on the ground, burying your red hands in the wet grass, and wailed. Thick tears blurred your vision and rolled down your face in hot rivulets.

The relief was short lived though, as those hands returned to your body. Gliding over your back, squeezing your shoulders, touching your face. Your stomach rolled violently.

“Don’t touch me,” you begged, your voice an unfamiliar shriek as it ripped from somewhere deep inside your body. “Get your fucking hands off me, don’t fucking touch me, don-“

“Darlin’, it’s me, it’s me,” you could hear, but you just fought harder, beating against the solid wall of brick in front of you, pounding your fists against his chest.

“I’ll fucking,” you gasped for air, eyes clamped tightly shut. “I’ll fucking kill you, get away from me.”

But familiar hands were gripping your face, holding you tightly, forcing you to look, and when you did, it’s like your body went limp. All the fight in you disappeared.

You mumbled his name, and he nodded furiously, those brown eyes you loved gazing into yours, panic and concern evident in the harsh lines across his forehead, in that deep frown you knew so well.

“It’s me, baby, I’ve got you,” his voice was like a song in your ears, and you closed your eyes and let him hold you, listening to the desperate apologies he whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’ve got you now, it’s over, it’s over.”

part seven

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[ticklishprincey]

A New Kind Of Coffee

Can you tell that I'm hyperfixated on Helluva Boss? Like holy shit this freaking show has a CHOKEHOLD on me in the best way possible. Also there's like two fics of Asmodeus and Fizz which has me very upset so here's to satisfying my brain. Warning for implied depression, sex joke mention (passively like one time) implied eating disorders (not really but refusing food nonetheless) implied mental illness Fizz is having one of "those days" again, but luckily his beloved boyfriend is here to cheer him up! THIS IS PURELY SFW ALL NSFW DNI OR I WILL THROW A BIBLE AT YOU!!! (I’m not religious but damn some of y'all need jesus) Fizzarolli was tired. No, not the physical "I need to sleep tired" kind of tired. He was the mentally drained type of tired, like "I need to collapse in bed and never get up" kind of tired. But of course, he has to keep up his image of the clown that never shuts the fuck up and blows air horns in everyone's face, because what was he if not energetic? After a day of fake smiles and half-hearted sex jokes, the clown collapsed into the bed Asmodeus and him shared. He was absolutely exhausted. Nothing he did excited him. He was tired, drained, and depressed. Asmodeus, despite being the busy sin that he was, noticed. He was worried for his beloved imp, but knew he would never open up when there was work to be done or people around. Normally Fizz would be tired after a stressful day, but this was different. He had turned down any form of affection, which was not like him. He had refused to eat all day, even when Asmodeus had offered to take them out to his favorite burger place. This was more than troublesome to the sin. A gentle knock at their shared bedroom caused Fizzarolli to look up from where his head had been buried in a pillow. "You don't gotta knock, Ozz, it's your room too." The clown responded, burying his head back into the pillow. Asmodeus nodded, coming in and gently shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bed next to Fizz, laying a gentle hand on his boyfriend's back as he looked down at the imp in concern. "Fizzy Frog, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself today." The clown responded with a simple grunt. This wouldn't do. "Talk to me, love, what's on your mind?" Another grunt. Asmodeus sighed and ran his hand softly up and down Fizzarolli's back in an attempt to comfort him, startled when he received a muffled squeak in response. "Darling? What's the matter- Oh, my dear Fizzy, are you ticklish~?" To say the clown was embarrassed would be an understatement. Another squeak, then his head popped up from the pillow, a bright red blush ever so present on his face. "N-No! Why do you aSK!?" The sin chuckled as his boyfriend's sentence was cut short by his own squeal. Asmodeus ran his fingers up and down the sensitive spine, reveling in this newfound laughter which he had missed in the stressful work hours. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because your little squeals and giggles give you away oh-so easily~" Fizzarolli squeaked again, giggles pouring freely out of his mouth as he rolled over onto his back to try and escape the teasing hands. "Ah-ah-ah! Let's see how ticklish this little tummy is, shall we?" Despite the protests of his boyfriend through bubbly giggles, Asmodeus dug into the soft belly, awarded by the excited and bubbly laughter he had been looking for. "BAhAahAhBE!! CuhuHuhut iT OuHuhuT!!!" Asmodeus simply chuckled and kept up his attack, only to rest his hand on Fizzarolli's stomach. "Do you know what a tickle monster's favorite food is?" The clown squirmed and giggled before it even happened, releasing a loud squeal followed by

bubbly laughter as his lover bent down and blew a raspberry directly onto his belly button, his robot appendages rendered useless against the attack as they flailed left and right. "OHOHOZZIE WAHAHAIT STAHAHAHAHAP!!!" The attack stopped as soon as it had begun, replaced by the larger demon scooping his lover into his arms and cuddling him close to his chest. "Feeling better, Fizzy-Pop?" The clown nodded, resting his head on Asmodeus' chest before mumbling quietly, but the sin heard every word. "Thank you for loving me, Ozzie."

[airandyeah]

Lacy's First day of Kinktober

Priest!Nanami Kento X Atheist!F!Reader Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT Kink featured: Daddy kink

Maybe, you shouldn't have tried teasing the priest. It was innocent at first, you had talked about how you didn't really practice any religion and that you believed in science due to proof. He of course went on about how sure, science has it's perks, but faith is also important.This progressed into you pettily arguing all of his points. The real problem became when he made a very good point and you spit something back about how, "Y'know, you priests are called 'fathers', but the way you're talking down to me, I might have to call you daddy". Okay. Maybe that took it too far. His jaw was clenched hard, his fists balled, and a vein in his neck visibly straining before he pushes you back into the pews behind you. You land with a thud, you hadn't expected the harshness and you landed with legs spread, arms perched on the backs of the pews, your skin tight black dress for the night tearing with a sickening riiiip, before you look up at the man. He's on you in seconds, standing between your spread knees and kissing your lips like a man starved, and you simply kissed back, this man was insanely hot, and hell, you hadn't gotten laid in a while. Soon his hands are roughly ripping your dress fabric further as he paws at your chest with his rough hands. You groan at the sensation as his lips kiss down the column of your throat, his lips curve into a devious smirk at the noise. "You come into this holy place, provoke a holy man, and now you lay beneath him moaning like a harlot, that must be embarrassing", he rumbles deeply into your chest as he moves his kisses downward. You whine at his comment before he tears at your bra and wraps his lips around a nipple, his hand occupying and pinching the other. "N-not some whore", your breathe back, and he simply chuckles. "Not supposed to do this.... but fuck you're too tempting", he practically growls the words as he bites down on the other nipple. "D-daddy!", you squeal out as he groans on your now sore nipple. "What is it, huh? Do you want daddy to give you more princess?", his tone is borderline condescending as you stutter and nod. "Aht aht aht, need words princess", he says back as he delivers another bite to the other nipple as punctuation. "I-I need...need more. Please daddy....", you moan out. He chuckles darkly with a, "Good girl", before finishing the job of tearing off your skimpy dress, then pulls your panties to the side. He audibly, and fairly loudly, groans just looking at it. Your pink pussy, with a swollen clit and absolutely leaking with your own love juices. You can feel your face redden in embarrassment as he stares, before it melts into euphoria as he licks a stripe up from the slit to the clit, sucking briefly on the clit before he stands up and takes off his button up and slacks. His painfully hard dick is pressed up against his boxers, and your eyes widen at the size simply of the tent. He would break you. Before long he's got his mouth back on yours as he grinds against you, you realize he's babbling something and as you listen closer... its bible verses. Shit. He probably feels horrible, but before you can say anything he's torn down his boxers and kissing you deeply as he pushes the tip in. You practically scream into his mouth, he was big. He kisses your cheeks gently as you take more of him, whispering in your ear about how you're a good girl for taking his dick so well, before he ultimately starts nibbling your ears and rocking his length back and forth. Soon he's pounding into you. He's grunting so huskily next to your face as he reaches down to rub your clit in tight circles, you moan and plead for him to keep going. "C-close, p-please daddy!", you plead with him and it only makes him work faster. "Go on babygirl, cum for daddy, you can do it", he responds and you're losing it the second he finishes his words. Your walls flutter around him before he ultimately pulls out and paints your tummy white. ~~~ Next Sunday you walk through those church doors, makeup done nicely, a loose dress draped over your body, as you both make eye contact. He smiles then.

My gawd I just wrote that-

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 10 - Family History

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part9

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: Cooper worries at his lip, grabbing the ledger, notebook, and bible. He opens the bible up, running his fingers across the inside cover, his fingers moving along where the edges are glued to the front cover. He digs out his pocket knife, flicking it open. 

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, dead animal mutilation, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

*it's here, it's a week late, but it's here. There is so many details, i needed to make sure it was working!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lucy wakes up to an empty bed, she huffs, wishing Cooper would have woken her up. He had taken to letting her sleep in since all the cows had calved. It wasn't that she didn’t appreciate the rest, it was more that she wanted to contribute as much as anyone else. Maybe more she wanted to be seen as an equal to everyone else. 

Her body aches uncomfortably as she moves, grabbing enough clothes to shuffle to her room. She grabs a towel and some clean clothes before going to take a shower.

The hot water soothes some of the aches from the previous few days. Lucy wants to stay longer but knows there is work to be done. Instead, getting out she towel dries herself, surprised that there were no bruises considering she had collapsed at some point.

Dressed and somewhat ready to face the world Lucy heads downstairs. Fingers running over the braid in her hair as she makes her way over to the kitchen. Grabbing a cup of coffee Lucy sees a note beside the coffee maker. 

Chickens

Is all that is written on there. Lucy grabs a few bites of toast, before filling up two thermoses of coffee. Walking to the front, she stops her ears ringing. Eyes scrunching tight as she leans against the wall for a moment. The whole world going quiet except for the non-stop high-pitched ring. For a moment Lucy believes it will never end unless her ears drums break. 

Then it stops. 

Lucy takes several deep breaths, the world spinning as she opens her eyes. Placing the coffee on the ground she rubs one of her ears fully expecting blood. Nothing. 

Righting herself she grabs the coffee and puts on her boots, trying not to think too hard about the ringing. She hopes that the doctors and nurses were right and that it would stop over time. Walking down the gravel drive, taking in the fresh air, and peace that comes with being in the middle of nowhere. 

Going past the house and shop, she hears the unmistakable sounds of chickens. Cawing, clicks, and general noisiness of the little dinosaurs. The Howards had gone all out for their large flock of feathered beasts. A space had been cut into the forest, then large hardware cloth walls erected around it with a netted roof. The trees provided shade, roosting purchases, and endless shenanigans for them; while the net kept predatory birds out. The chickens also regularly free-roamed the place. 

Today they were kept inside, squabbling and screeching as they chased after different bugs. Cooper sat on a stump in the middle, occasionally throwing handfuls of grain into the flock around his feet. Lucy carefully opens and closes the latches, the chickens running over to see if she has any goodies.

“Nothing today Ladies. But after dinner, I will see what I can scrounge up.” Lucy told the little minions as she walks over to where Cooper sat. 

He smiles at her, “Good to see yah, gorgeous.” 

Lucy hands him the coffee before rolling a stump over to sit on. 

“You can wake me up, you know,” Lucy says, accepting her thermos back as she gets settled. 

“You looked so peaceful, figured rest was in order,” Cooper replies, taking a swig of the coffee. 

Lucy sighs, watching the chickens move around. Occasional squabbles happening as they fought over a bug. 

“It was nice to sleep in. But I want to pull my weight too. Don't mind getting up early to help with stuff.” Lucy adds as a red fluffed-up chicken comes over tilting its head to give her a better once over, before it hops onto Lucy’s knee. 

“Careful, she is known to win hearts,” Cooper chuckles as the bird carefully circles Lucy's knee before settling herself down.

Lucy gently ran her hand over the bird. “I am not easily won, little bird, but you're awfully sweet.”

“She doesn't lay much anymore,” Cooper says, scritching around the bird comb. “But she's a fantastic foster mom, so we keep'er. She looks after the new hatchlin's.”

“Good job little Mama,” Lucy says, shifting so the chicken has space across both legs to lay on. “Keep 'em nice and toasty under all those feathers, make sure the roos aren’t assholes.”

“Never had chickens down south,” Cooper adds, throwing some more grain out. “Barb wanted the kids to be a bit older before we had them.”

“I am sorry you never got that experience with her,” Lucy says, moving her hand to cover his. 

Cooper shrugs, squeezing her hand. “I don’t mean to bring her up all the time.” Cooper gazes out towards the treeline. “You’d think after so many years it won’t bother me so much.”

Lucy leans her head against his shoulder, rubbing her fingers over his. “She was your wife, your children’s mother. I would be surprised if it didn’t bother you.”

Cooper nods, holding onto Lucy’s hand, “Have I shown you a photo?” 

“No, you have not. But I would love to see her,” Lucy smiles, leaning away so he can fish out his phone. 

He scrolls through his photos, finding an album labeled: Barb with a red heart beside it. Cooper clicked it open, showing her a photo of the woman. She was neatly dressed in a lavender riding outfit and, shiny black helmet with purple hearts. The grin across her face was the same as her daughter Janey’s, along with the beautiful curly hair. Barb was standing beside her stallion, the big black horse’s head resting against the side of her face. 

“She is stunning!” Lucy exclaims as Cooper shows her a handful more photos. “I can see so much of her in your kids. The way Janey smiles, Matthias eyes, always with you. I can see why you would think about her often.” 

Cooper carefully closes his phone, “Thank you for understanding, Lucy. The kids sure have enjoyed your company. I have to.”

“Even if we end up in the ER after our first dance?” Lucy teases, as she kisses the side of his face. 

Cooper laughs, turning to her as he slips his phone back into his pocket. He leans forward and kisses her, hands holding her face, Lucy kissing back as she rubs her thumbs over his cheekbones. Leaning back he grins as he rests his forehead against hers, hat-tipping up. 

“Maybe more so. Keeps life interesting after all.” Cooper chuckles, eyes closing as the two sit there for a moment. 

***

“None of this makes sense,” Lucy stomps, looking at the pages and papers laid out on the tables. 

Cooper runs a hand through his hair, putting his hat on the table. “We got to be missin' somethin', it all seems so random.” 

Lucy rubs at her eyes, all the words seem to be doubling over themselves. “The bible isn’t even a bible as far as I can tell. Yes, it has the cover, but there are no actual passages, not like you'd see in a modern bible. It's more like journal entries and way more pages than you’d normally see.”

Cooper groans as he flips through the journals again, “Not to add to the confusion. But his journals don’t add much. There are some day-to-day thin's, but nothing' specifically mentionin' going't the forest.”

“Even in the ledgers. He misses some full moons, and then sometimes he is losing things weekly.” Lucy grumbles as she flips open her notebook to a blank page. “Maybe it’s not lining up with our calendar, but the lunar one.”

Cooper's eyebrows go up, “Doesn't our calendar follow the moon?” 

“No, not exactly. The lunar calendar was exactly twenty-eight days and had thirteen months. Some people believe it syncs more with the solar calendar.” Lucy is flipping open her phone. She scans over it, trying to see if it lines up with anything else, but it still doesn’t make sense. 

“Oh man,” Lucy sighs, “So the dates are a little more on point. But this doesn’t explain what he was doing.”

Cooper dug around his pocket pulling out a packet of cigarettes, he tapes them on the table a few times. Then pulls out one, fiddling with it before standing it filter down on the table. Opening a journal again, looking at the top, fingers running over the sentences

“What if the dates are supposed to be the passages from the bible??” Cooper asks as he gets up to stand beside Lucy. “Have we looked up if they reference the modern bible?”

Lucy felt her brows furrow, she opened a new google search, typing in the passage. “Philippians 4:18, I have received full payment and have more than enough. I am amply supplied, now that I have received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent. They are a fragrant offering, an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God. “

“Did he lose any animals that week?’ Cooper asks, Lucy flipping over the ledger. 

“No,” Lucy says quietly, finger on the date. “Nothing was lost that week.” 

Cooper let out a whoop, walking around the table a few times. “Well, I am thinkin' we may have figured somethin' out. The date is the passage, but why was he adding scripture at the top of the journal pages.”

Lucy grabs the journal flipping to a random page, “Corinthians 10:20 should be No, but the sacrifices of pagans are offered to demons, not to God, and I do not want you to be participants with demons. But he has written down Blessed are the destroyers of false hope, for they are the true Messiahs. For they will bring prosperity to your life and land.”

Cooper pulls his glasses out of his pocket, balancing them on his nose as he opens his phone. Lucy waits as he types the words into his browser. His brow scrunches as he reads what the search results show. 

“You sure that’s what he has written?” Cooper asks, peering at the journal and then at his phone. He hands her the phone Lucy’s mouth falls open. 

“The Satanic bible?” Lucy asks, her stomach twisting. “Seriously? He’s quoting Anton LeVay?”

Cooper’s eyes run back and forth over the different pages in the journal as he flips through them. “I am guessin' that each of these is a misquote, he puts whatever name and number so that if you were just flipping through it wouldn’t seem odd.” 

“Some of these are Druidic, Hindi, Jewish. There are hundreds of quotes, and only a handful of them relate to the English bible.” Lucy says, leaning back in her chair, feeling more confused than when she started. 

“Did he have other books around? Like different, umm, bibles? Not sure if that’s the right term.” Cooper asks, Lucy shaking her head. 

“We didn’t have a lot of books we usually just borrowed from the library. The only religious text I thought he had was this bible.” Lucy gestures at the massive leather-bound thing. 

“We could go to the library. See if they ever lent him something along t'ose lines.” Cooper suggests, fingers tapping along the hard plastic surface of the table. 

“Wouldn’t explain why he was bringing animals into the forest. Or misquoting the bible in the journals.” Lucy groans, fiddling with the pen before doodling on one of her notebooks. 

Cooper worries at his lip, grabbing the ledger, notebook, and bible. He opens the bible up, running his fingers across the inside cover, his fingers moving along where the edges are glued to the front cover. He digs out his pocket knife, flicking it open. 

“Do you mind?” He asks Lucy, “I think there might be something under here.”

Lucy nods her head, scooting forward to watch him work. Cooper carefully slides the knife along the edge working the page free from the front.  He does all four sides, before putting the knife down on the table, he tries to lift the edges but his fingers aren’t the nimblest. 

“I got it,” Lucy says, patting his thigh, he shifts away so that she can get closer to it. 

Using her nails she carefully lifts and peels the paper off the front. The paper is thin and much thicker than the rest of the book. The edges were glued and left small bits behind as she lifted it, but underneath the writing was in near perfect condition.  

It was a list of names, the whole front cover was full of names. Names and dates, going down four neat columns.

“Holy shit,” Cooper said quietly, leaning in beside Lucy to see them all. “This goes back dozens of generations.” 

“Earliest is sixteen fifty-six. Some kept it for a few years, others for decades.” Lucy says quietly.

“Not father to son either, sometimes mother to daughter, father to daughter, mother to son.” Cooper runs his fingers down the names. “Not all the same last name either."

“Hold on, hold on.” Lucy flips through the pages of the bible, stopping in one section and then going to the next one. “This isn’t just in English, it’s in several different languages.” 

Cooper squints at it, “How did we miss that?”

Lucy shrugs, laughing at the ridiculousness of it, “It’s not a bible, it’s my family's history. Past from generation to generation.” 

The two sit there staring at the book for a moment, Lucy struggling to wrap her mind around the fact that she was holding a piece of her family's history. Going back three hundred plus years, what it contained she could only imagine. 

“Your folks settled here hundreds of years ago,” Cooper said, walking over to the fridge and bringing back two beers. Lucy happily accepts one, maybe it will help her brain not leak out of her ears. 

“Tim always said we were some of the first in the area. Why it was important for us to make sure we looked after the community and the land.” Lucy says quietly, her fingers carefully moving more of the paper off the book revealing an inscription along where the page met the spine. “Wonder what this says?’ 

Cooper dug out his phone, typing the words into google, “Think google could translate that.” 

Lucy opens her beer taking a sip, it was only two in the afternoon but at this moment she could not care. 

“Ahh, so I think google is a little lost, First to be first, born to be born,” Cooper replies, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I think they mean from firstborn to firstborn.” 

“So it was passed down generationally from the firstborn father/mother to the firstborn son/daughter,” Lucy says, opening the book carefully again. 

“Won’t this be like dust or something? Like I didn’t think they had books this old.” Cooper muses, as he watches Lucy.

“Not many people had books, but I think this wasn't as big as it was,” Lucy states, flipping from the back to the front of the book. “The last few names are all MacLean. Past father to son.” A lightbulb goes off in the back of her mind. “Grandpa always said that I broke the curse of being the firstborn daughter after so many generations of sons.”

“The curse? What does that even mean?” Cooper says, taking a drink from his beer and looking as Lucy flips between pages. 

“My Dad was the one who was supposed to receive the bible.” Lucy states, her fingers going over what looks to be possibly old German. “But then he died. Died in the forest.”

“What are you thinkin?” Cooper pushes, his hand rubbing along Lucy’s hunched shoulders. 

“I think this book details my family, or my ancestors I guess, coming here. Settling here, and looking after the land.” Lucy sits down, rubbing at her face. “Which means squat. I knew my family was old, but why did he not pass this down to me.”

“He said you broke the curse.” Cooper replies, “Think we can assume, that he thought because your Dad passed, that there was no one to hand it to.” 

“We couldn’t have been the first family to lose a firstborn,” Lucy states, flipping open the book, and looking at more illustrations. “ Wait, look at this.” Cooper comes over, looking where Lucy is pointing at an illustration.

“Is that a stump?” Cooper asks, “It’s a stump with ruins and a head on it.” Lucy nods, sitting down and taking a long drink from the beer. “They were making sacrifices in the forest.” Cooper flips through the pages, finding one that depicted twelve stumps, each with different ruins carved on them, some had bloody heads, other loaves of bread, and fruit, but all unique.

***

Lucy and Cooper sit beside a fire pit, Cooper taking a draw from a cigarette before passing it to Lucy. Not thinking she takes it and takes a pull from it, eyes rolling at the pleasant buzz that settles over her. Her phone still in hand, more questions than answers swirling in the fire before her. She had called her Mom as they settled in, and Rose had danced around any answers, dismissing anything about the bible. She claimed to not know about the bible, or anything happening on the farm. Eventually telling her she needed to go.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t know. Feels like no one actually knows what's going on.” Lucy said quietly, flicking the ash into the ashtray before handing it back to Cooper. 

“Do you think Harris? Or Margie, have any ideas?” Cooper suggests, taking a puff of the smoke. 

“That is my next stop I think. Tomorrow sometimes, see if there is anything else they haven’t told me.” Lucy sighs, rubbing at her face.  “They had to know about the stumps. How does that relate to anything that’s been happening? The things we have both been seeing?”

The rest of the day had been helping with kids, discussing which fields to start in with Mark. Helping Dorothy with dinner, settling the kids, and making sure everything was closed up for the night. Lucy’s head had been spinning for most of it. She had more questions than answers, from what they could tell the bible had been handed down to the firstborn. But it hadn’t been handed to Lucy’s father Hank, or her. Tim had decided to stop, reasons unknown. 

Cooper pulls her against his side, “I can’er your brain runnin’, and it’s much too late for that.” 

“Just wish they'd told me. Wish, Tim had told me. Why keep all this a secret? Like it was clearly important to be carried around for so long.” Lucy snuggles in, enjoying his warmth. 

“He hid it in the back of a shed, in a metal box, with a lock.” Cooper squeezed her, kissing the top of her head.

“Do you think he thought that if it wasn’t passed down to me, nothing would happen?” Lucy asks, her mind running over all the possibilities. 

Cooper shakes his head, “I wish I knew Lucy, "More questions then answers."

“Thank you, for helping me,” Lucy says, her eyes closing, the long day catching up with her. 

“Don’t have to answer, if yah don’t wanna,” Cooper murmurs, “What happened with your Mom?” 

Lucy shrugs, “I am not sure, she dropped me off with my Grandparents. Haven’t really been in touch much since. She never came to the farm, we always went to see her wherever she was. Didn’t really think about it much till now.”

“Whatever the reason, we will figure it out, Lucy.” Cooper murmurs, the two continue to watch the fire. 

***

Going down the stairs, Lucy made out Cooper’s voice, Richard’s, and another not as familiar. As she walks towards the dining room, she sees the men along with John Roth.  The man was a good head shorter than Cooper, he had braided black hair down his back, tanned skin, and a black cowboy hat. He looks about the same age as Mark, maybe a few years younger. His eyes are a grass green, as he looks at Lucy with a small frown. 

“Hello, Ms. MacLean,” John said, forehead wrinkling as he looks between her and Cooper.

“Hi, Umm, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Lucy tries to grin and moves towards the kitchen. “Just getting some breakfast.”

“Actually, Lucy. I think this involves you as much as anyone.” Richard said, gesturing for everyone to sit at the table. 

Lucy grabs the pot of coffee and some mugs, knowing that the table would already have some cream and sugar. She put the mugs in front of each man, pouring each some and then herself. Before sitting down herself, looking at everyone. Well, Lucy thought, she had wanted to be a part of the adult table. 

“I know, all of you have been through a lot this last year,” John said, fingers tapping at the sides of his cup before taking another sip of the coffee.  “We’ve all suffered, unfortunately, a cow has been missing. One of our last to calve.” 

Richard takes a sip watching John talk, Cooper puts his hand on top of Lucy’s knee. The warmth and weight reassuring her, grounding her to the moment.

“I was hoping to get your permission to go search through your land for her.” John asks, his green eyes shining in the light, “Harris has said that Bert could come help. It only be a few hours. I just need to know what’s happened to them.”

“Of course, John. I should have offered that, to begin with.” Lucy said softly. “I have two working four wheels, I know the woods I can take us through there.”

“Are you sure Lucy?” Cooper asks, looking more than a little concerned.

“Absolutely. If anyone is going in there I am coming with them.” Lucy responds, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. 

Cooper grips her knee, “I am coming with you, we can cover more ground that way.”

Richard puts his cup down looking between the three of them. “I would offer, but I don’t know how far I’d get.”

“I appreciate all the help we can get, Nicole would come but she is nearly due herself.” John smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “It means a lot to me.”

“Not a problem, how about we meet at two? It gives us enough time to get things done around here, get some supplies, and plenty of light.” Cooper states, finishing his cup of coffee and pouring another. 

“Alright, I will see y’all at two.” John nods, putting his cup down. “Thank you, again Lucy.”

“Not a problem, we’ll find your cows John,” Lucy replies, pouring herself another cup of coffee, and refilling Richards. 

John grabs his hat, thanking everyone again for the help. Lucy busies herself with making breakfast, a list of what she needs to gather forming in her mind. Cooper helps Richard get comfortable in his recliner, the man murmuring about hating chemo. 

Cooper comes over, grabbing his cup off the table, before coming into the kitchen.  Lucy had toast on, knowing that chores needed to be done. 

“You sleep okay?” Cooper asks as he puts on more coffee.

“Yes, thank you for letting me sleep in again.” Lucy replies, “Do you want some toast?” 

“Think I am gonna do coffee, gotta make sure the chickens have water and food,” Cooper says, dumping the coffee in a to-go mug.

Lucy grabs his arm before he takes off, “Cooper, I-,” She bites her lip, “I am worried about this afternoon.”

Cooper stops, putting his mug down so he can turn to look at her fully, his hands gently grabbing both of her arms. “I know. And no ya ain’t gonna convince me nota come with yah. I am comin’ with, we will figure this out together.”

Lucy slumps a little, her mind running over to the kids, “I- I know it’s none of my business. I worry about the kids, after what happened on Friday. It’s all I've been thinkin’ about.”

He lets out a huff of air, looking away from her for a second. “I know. But I ain’t letting you go in there alone either.”

“I won’t be alone. Bert and John will be with me.” Lucy says, hoping that she sounds convincing. “I know the place well, I am sure we will find the cows in no time.”

Cooper shakes his head, “I already told'ya, I am comin.” He tips her chin up so they are looking at each other. “In and out, all of us.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

PART 11

*things are just gonna get crazier!

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