#it is next to “I should go back to church”

[k-martins]

N.A: I've been thinking a lot about writing something quick and cute itafushi so I found this list of @novelbear and couldn't resist writing something about these two. Good reading! :D

Adorable wasn't exactly a word attributed to Megumi.

At least, Yuji never heard anyone call him that - maybe Gojo sensei , but to the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer anything that looks threatening must be adorable or comical.

Yuji 's experience , Megumi had many adjectives that were the complete opposite of cute. Cold, scary, stoic, a tired bitch, grumpy and boredom personified – thank you, Todo.

Of course, it wasn't for less.

Megumi's face seemed to have been molded to carry that poker face forever , his features relaxed, but still firm and confident. The emerald eyes stared seriously at the viewer, almost as if reading the poor person's own soul – One or two girls already shuddered when Megumi glared at them, even though he just wanted to buy popcorn for the movie session they were going to. It also didn't help that Megumi rarely laughed, had a prickly neutral tone of voice, and perhaps a dark aura that even normal humans were able to sense.

It wasn't exactly the kind of thing most people found cute or adorable.

But, looking at the raven-haired boy now, Yuji was sure that everyone was sorely mistaken!

Wrapped in a big, heavy blanket, a steaming cup of ginger tea in hand, wearing slippers with dogs that resembled his shikigami – these were truly, undeniably adorable – and the black threads shooting in various directions made Megumi the most adorable thing Yuji had seen in a long time. He looked so small and fluffy, like a big sulking burrito . It didn't help that the only visible part of his body was his face pressed into the soft, warm fabric of the blanket, making his red cheeks and nose that much more prominent.

The sight made Yuji melt like jelly on the sofa where he sat with his legs up and a forgotten issue of the manga he loved in his lap.

How could anyone call Megumi scary when he looked like a walking cinnamon roll?

It looks like Yuji was taking too long looking, as the other boy raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"What it was?"

Oops .

"Nothing. Just thinking..."

"This is dangerous."

In another moment, Yuji would have exclaimed a “ hey ” with mock indignation, but now he could only laugh a little. Megumi sipped some of the tea, the steam making his cheeks even redder. It is still surprising to Yuji to see how easily Megumi blushes, whether from the cold weather or embarrassment. In either case, it's cute.

After almost a minute of silence, Megumi puts the mug down and gives him a hard look.

“Do I have something on my face by any chance, Itadori?”

Yuji just laughed some more, looking admiringly at that expression torn between confusion and anger. He looked like an angry kitten.

“No, that's not it. It's just that…” He took a deep breath, trying to force the words out of the laughter. “You look so cute in that blanket, Megumi.”

Megumi's long eyelashes flutter as he blinks, mouth pulling up in a shy pout. His cheeks get a rosier tone, which makes Yuji 's own smile open a little more.

“I'm not cute” He snapped, sinking into the blanket, getting exactly fluffier.

"Yes, you are!"

“Stop it, Itadori.”

“But you look so adorable.” Yuji got up until he was close to the other boy, reaching out to cup Megumi's warm cheeks, squeezing them affectionately. He grew the two centimeters that differentiated him from the other boy in the summer, now being able to look him straight in the eyes. “It looks like a burrito . A very fluffy burrito .”

Even redder, Megumi raises his fist to hit Yuji 's head , the blow causing nothing but a fit of laughter from the pink haired boy.

“Stop calling me cute, idiot!” Megumi groans. “I'm not adorable. I am a jujutsu sorcerer .”

“And should that be exclusionary?” He hums the question, leaning in to where the boy's fist rests on his head. When Megumi doesn't respond, Yuji smirks. "There is! Got you!"

"Shut up."

But Yuji ignores this, quickly slipping one arm behind Megumi's knees while the other holds him behind his back, carrying his bridal style with ease. The sorcerer gasps, focusing on balancing his hot tea which still spills a few drops onto the blanket.

“What the fuck…?”

"I said..." Yuji brings his face close to Megumi's, bumping his nose. “I got you, my fluffy burrito .”

"Do not call me like that. It's stupid.” The other complained, but still sank against Yuji's chest, the pout still stuck in his face. Then, intent green eyes rise to meet Yuji 's , one brow arched behind bangs. “Where are you taking me, kirby?”

Again, Yuji melts into a puddle of jelly, delighted at the discovery of Megumi's hidden cuteness .

A cuteness that only he has the right to see.

That's enough to get you drunk.

“Oh, since you're a burrito …” Yuji laughs when Megumi punches him in the chest, but continues anyway, pressing his lips to his boyfriend's soft red cheek until she narrows his eyes. The scent of ginger and vanilla dances around your nose. "I think I'm going to eat it."

Megumi blinks in disbelief, lips parted in a silent 'o', and Yuji runs to his room, where the heat will be off and they can snuggle together under the heavy, warm blanket.

He couldn't want more.

Or maybe yes...

[zonotrichia-albicollis]

Giant personal vent time

This guy stole somewhere between 3 to 6 MILLION dollars from my grandmother by conning my great aunt into signing over her estate and medical & financial power of attorney to him literally on her death bed

I and my aunt have been working basically a whole second job the last 3 months trying to get together a legal case to go after this guy. And now my grandma wants to drop it. And no one else has standing so what the fuck can we do.

This man has absolutely done this to other ppl before, there is no doubt in my mind. I’ve seen his property records for just what’s publicly available in my county and it’s sketchy as hell. I am never going to get over this but there’s nothing I can do.

Gonna put like a million more thoughts in the tags because I’m losing my fucking mind.

[ectonurites]

i simply love. silly little plays...

[ladyzayinwonderland]

🌱

[ghostkidet]

Something positive for this blog: I finished writing my prologue yay me !!

[neverendingford]

.

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[madamechrissy]

✞ Forgive me For I have Sinned ✞

✞ Pairings: Priest Gojo x Fem Reader

✞ Word count - 5.7k

✞ Content/Warnings- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul <3 NSFW, sacrilegious, confessional fucking, rosaries as bondage, lots of filling you w/love and light, oral (both receiving) fingering, explicit church sex, reader is a lil bimbo and innocent fr, Gojo has a HELL of a God complex (canon tbh) overall kinky asf

A/N- Booking the tix to hell-who's coming with!? I based off this drabble of mine: Priest! Gojo (you can read it first if you want!) Reader and Gojo are in their mid 20s. Enjoy!

It was hot outside, a scorching summer day, the type that made you want to jump in an icy cool lake naked, but in the sanctuary of this pristine church which is kept rather cool, you still have a drip of sweat beading down your collarbone. You’re wearing a pretty red summer dress, your little hat right next to you in the pew, as you watch him with avid attention.

Father Satoru Gojo.

The entire church is in love with him, enamored by him, there are admiring whispers even amongst the most vigilant catholics, the ones who would judge you for coming not in your Sunday best. They hid it well enough, acting as if they only cared so much because his sermons were so powerful, because he was so young and profound already.

But you know better, and they know better deep down, that Father Gojo was just gorgeous, a face chiseled to perfection, tall and broad shouldered, swoon worthy by all accounts. His husky voice and insane presence that shines brilliantly like a million diamonds certainly helps, but his face itself is so pretty it’s angelic.

When he looks at you with those brilliant blue eyes, swirling like a moody storm, all glittery behind those snowy white lashes? Well you feel…

You’re going to hell.

Last night you’d had this insane dream of him, where he has asked you to serve him on your knees, just as he would offer that eucharist and wine to you, but instead it’s his cum you’re swallowing. And you’re a good, God fearing girl, so, you certainly should not do or think of such things! And worst of all, with your priest, Father Gojo. He has vows too, yet you’d committed much sin already.

Just last night you’d awakened throbbing, having dreamt of pleasuring him, on your knees before him, and you’d been soaking wet and dripping down your shorts, even the sheet had a wet spot. You’d rubbed your swollen little clit in circles, gasping and arching your back, feeling fevered as you committed such sins, as picturing Father Gojo had you climaxing all over your own fingers.

You’d been so ashamed this morning! You’d splashed cold water on your face, staring at yourself in your mirror, shivering as the cool water dripped down your skin, knowing you should stay home, find some new church. You are full of impure thoughts and sin, and it’s all because of him, how could you confide in him that you feel this way, think this way?

What would he do if he knew? Cast you out or…

Stop it.

But as you’re crossing your legs, shifting your hips, you see Satoru Gojo’s full, pouty lips part, his eyes directly on you. You pause then, eyes wide, you must be imagining it, your sin surely is carrying over too far… but you test it, crossing your legs once more, and sure enough, his eyes follow your legs up, between your thighs, surely seeing your panties.

That gives you a fucking thrill you can’t describe, as does him licking his thumb, going to another page as he continues his sermon, women all over are fanning themselves, enamored by him. But perhaps none so much as you, picturing what’s under that cassock, under those white robes he wears, what that long, lithe body would feel like against yours.

You imagine your dream vividly later when he’s giving you the eucharist, placing the biscuit on your tongue as you hold your mouth open on your knees, then you see it, the hunger mirrored in his eyes. You tremble when he brushes a thumb over your lower lip, and your eyes drift to his lap, where you clearly see he’s hard. You gulp it down, looking up at him and taking the wine now.

Father Gojo looks down at you, white hair falling over a brow, finding your beautiful eyes are affecting him as much as your stance on your knees, his thumb finds your chin now, imagining shoving his cock between perfect lips. Surely, you are here to tempt him, to ruin him, you are sin itself, haunting his dreams, making him hard in the middle of church, right in his own service.

You look at it then, his cock under the cassock that’s becoming too tight, before licking your lip, eyes back up to his hungrily. You look like such a good girl, but your eyes tell another story, a story of wanting to get fucked hard, to be filled by him, wanting to have his cum all over your pretty face. He imagines that as the wine drips down your lips now.

Fuck he’s going to hell if he stays around you, surely even he has rules to uphold even if he certainly is God’s chosen. But… perhaps since he is God's chosen, it’s his duty to help a little sinful girl like you. And as you rise, holding his hand, and your breasts brush against his chest, you’re far too close, he vividly pictures yanking them out of that dress, tempting him to no end.

Of course you ask for confessional, and he’s dying at the thought of being so close to you, when all he thinks of is how good you look, how good you smell, and he is left to wonder, do you taste that good? Your pretty neck, your delicate collarbone, your pussy? Surely he should not think such things, but as he looks at you through the lattice of the confessional separating you both, he cannot stop his mind.

“Father Gojo… I fear my confession is most wicked.” Comes your breathy little voice, only serving to make Father Gojo’s thick length harden, picturing what your little moans must sound like when properly fucked.

“Go on, my pr- my child, you may tell me anything.” He says, coughing a bit, because he’d rather call you a pretty little slut, and he has no clue why the devil likes to try him so hard. It’s all your fault, truly. Pretty little thing.

“Okay… but…” You take a breath. “I have dreams of someone fucking me, someone I should not.” You say nervously, and watch him shift in his seat, you can smell his cologne so much in here, making you thirst more for him.

“It’s natural to have thoughts, my child.”

“No, Father Gojo… I’m playing with myself, thinking of him. Of… sucking him, or of him laying on top of me.” You hear Father Gojo making a choking sound, and you panic. “I’m so sorry! I…”

“Ahem, no, no… continue.” Father Gojo’s cock is straining, he can already feel precum sticking to his tip, picuring you touching your pussy, he bets it’s so pretty, bet it tastes so-

Sinful girl, aren’t you?

Surely that’s all this is, not… him wanting to sin! Father Satoru Gojo certainly is perfect, he’s God’s perfect creature, so if he wants this, it must be on you. Sin in a perfect little body with a perfect little face, and a voice that drives him to utter distraction. Surely, Father Gojo must try to save you.

“Father, I cannot stop thinking of him, he’s in all my dreams. What should my penance be, how many hail marys?”

Father Gojo has to stroke himself to adjust his huge, throbbing cock now, as he watches you through the lattice, biting your full lower lip, your head falling back, hair cascading. Hair he wants to pull as he fucks you from behind, making you arch your back to take more of his cock.

“I have to ask how you’re doing it… so that I can tell you your penance, so that I may try to save you.” He says, husky now, and you whimper softly, shifting on the bench, your pussy throbbing around nothing, picturing his cock filling you.

“How I do it, Father Gojo?”

“Yes, it’s… important to confess.”

“Well, I take my fingers, and I find my pussy with them, I roll them around my clit over and over, I get so wet that they slip- Father are you okay?” Satoru can’t stand it, he’s stroking his bare cock under his robes, resting his head against the wall, struggling not to cry out as he’s pumping.

“Ahem… indeed I am. So you finger your little pussy then?” At his words you’re a blushing mess, breaths coming more rapidly, your hands gripping the bench, dying for friction as you’re soaking your panties.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you slip your fingers in?”

“I… no! Um… no.”

“And you cum?”

“I… yes. I do cum. Imagining him.” You’re watching those robes rise and fall, then you know it, Father Gojo is stroking his cock right next to you.

“I see… I think I can help alleviate some of this, perhaps give you some guidance so that you do not afflict yourself so.” You want to touch yourself now, when you hear those breathy pants, your fingers clinging to the lattice.

“Yes, father, I need your guidance.” Cock, fingers, mouth… fuck you’re a full sinner, aren’t you!?

“Then come here, let us have our first attempt at saving you.”

Now you’re standing in front of him in the itty bitty room, face to face with Satoru Gojo, your Priest, and fuck if your nipples don’t tighten up, if your tummy isn’t clenching with desire. You’re nervously fiddling with your hands as he leans back, spreading his long legs as wide as they can in the tight quarters, his glittering blue eyes dilated as he licks his lips, making them glossy.

“You must show me how, and do not fret, sweet girl, it’s through god’s will of course, through me.” Father Gojo says, your breaths come faster as you slip up your sundress, and his eyes hungrily drink the sight of your bare thighs in. He leans forward, sliding those panties down, eyeing your glistening cunt now, his breath almost hitting it, making you jerk.

“Father… I cannot show you…”

“You can, I am here to help, have no fear.” He notices you’ve drenched your panties, a wet spot formed, sticky little strands of your arousal apparent as he pulls them down, hands touching the smooth skin of your thighs.

You put your hand on your pussy now, the other nervously holding up your dress, and you run your fingers in circles on your clit, crying out softly, as he lets out a low, guttural moan. You’re getting wetter as you play, as his large, sexy hands clench, the veins popping up out of the thin skin, and you’re trembling, imagining his long fingers working you instead.

Satoru is close to cumming as he watches your pretty face, your brows drawing together, your lips parted, eyes so dilated your pupils are taking over, just a thin ring of your iris left. Your lashes are lowered, and his hand stops yours now, as it’s playing with your soppy little cunt, you tremble before him.

“I see, I must help you, guide you. To get this… affliction taken care of. Yes?” You nod eagerly, then Father Gojo pulls you to his lap, and you’re straddling him, your hands sliding up to feel his strong shoulders under his robe, and he is touching your pussy instead, making you whimper. “Need me to save you, pretty little sinner?”

“Please save me. Please. Ah!” Satoru sinks two long fingers deep inside your eager little entrance, you gasp at it as he slips into your gummy walls, drippy and so tight. He’s paused, moaning and looking right into your eyes, you drown in his blue gaze, as your cunt drools down his hand. “Father Gojo… please…”

“Begging for it, are you? So tight, it’s so… have you had anything inside this perfect little pussy?” He huffs, feeling how you’re squeezing his fingers, then he hits some spot that makes you see stars, pumping up and down over and over. You cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. “Answer me, be a good girl for once, would you?”

Good girl for once.

There’s no hope for you.

“Nothing… no one… just you, Father Gojo. Mmm!” You’re covering your mouth as he keeps pumping, and he moans, dreaming of breaking you in all the ways he could, taking your innocence for himself. It’s surely what god is wanting, and who is he but god’s disciple himself? He thrusts those fingers knuckles deep, watching you fall apart over him.

“There, you’re loving this, fingers stretching your pussy, don’t you?” You nod weakly, gushing down his hand, you can hear the squishing wetness of your pussy as he now slides a thumb, rolling it over your clit.

“F-father Gojo!”

“Sinful girl.” He huffs, as you’ve buried your face against his neck, rocking against his hand, those long fingers fucking you so good it’s painful, moaning.

“Mmm! Father Gojo, I will… be good… for you…”

“Will you?” You nod weakly, as Satoru rolls your clit expertly, and you feel the pressure building, you’re panting, ready to combust. “I feel it, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, hips grinding, now you’re soaking his robes, he’s picturing sliding his cock inside you, breaking you, until your sins are cleansed, and you’re picturing him taking you, defiling you in every way your hectic mind can picture. Both of you are about to cum, you’re not even touching Satoru though, you want to, fuck you want to.

“Close, m’close… p-please…” You’re begging for release, seeing stars as he works your now sloppy cunt.

“I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.” He urges you on, bringing you higher and higher with those long, slick fingers.

“Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!” You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes.

“Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you.” He whispers, and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, pressing up so deep. You’re gushing so much arousal, he can smell your sweet scent, as you scream out into your little hand, shaking.

Satoru is now sliding his fingers out, you whine, wanting more, especially when he is sucking your juices off his fingers, making you gasp. His cheeks hollow, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, breaths making you quicken, your heart pounding in your ears as you try to come down.

Your thighs are trembling over him, entire body lit up from cumming so hard, his snowy lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, before fluttering up, looking at you, your arousal coating his lips. “Oh my God.”

More sinning.

“You’re not being a very good girl.” He admonishes, but then his lips quirk up. “But, you taste too sweet to be bad. Or perhaps you yourself are sin.” Father Gojo whispers to you now, and you’re leaning closer, rolling your hips, making him groan, his hands gripping your little waist as your heat brushes against his cock. “Has it alleviated some of your… need, my child?”

He’s smirking at you, in a way no priest should! You sigh then, shaking your head. “No, Father, it’s only made it worse! You must help me more, I’m afraid now I’m thinking of sinning even more, and who I’ve been dreaming of.” You say then, it’s a whisper, as the room is hot from your breaths, smelling like sweet arousal.

Satoru blinks then, thin white brows going together, jaw clenching. “You’re thinking of fucking your own priest? That is a sin.”

“I know! It’s a terrible affliction. Oh Father, I’m going to hell.” You whisper, blinking back tears, still reeling from the aftershocks of cumming. Satoru arches his hips now, brushing his cock against your pussy, and you nearly scream out, head falling back, exposing your throat to him, and he pictures his hand wrapping a rosary around your neck, pulling tight.

You’ve dreamt of him too!? Surely this must be a sign.

A temptation.

But does he want to fight it? Your taste is all over his mouth now, as he feels your sexy little body against him, his hands brushing against your breasts, watching your nipples perk up. You look at him with intoxicated eyes, lips parted, your tiny hands clinging to his robes as you grind again, and he shudders at how fucking good it feels, your heat on him.

“I see… Well you must come to me tomorrow, and we will have to try harder, to save your soul.” He says huskily, you nod eagerly, as he helps you off him, his cock close to cumming, already twitching, he slides your soaked, ruined panties into his robes, you surely do not need them anymore.

“What if I have another dream father!”

“Do not touch yourself, I will help you when you come in, that’s so we can try to save you, yes?” You nod then, leaning close to his lips.

“Father, is it a sin to kiss your lips?”

“Not if you feel a calling, surely God wishes you to.” He murmurs, and you peck a sweet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on him, before forcing yourself out of the cramped quarters, body on fire, leaving Satoru to finish stroking his cock, cumming as he shoves your panties against his face.

******

You’re dreaming of him again, of Father Gojo, this time his snowy white hair is brushing against your thighs, his tongue is lapping up all the dripping wetness, his big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. You wake up throbbing, crying out, seeing how wet you are, as the ceiling fan whirls, failing to cool your overheated flesh. Father Gojo’s fingers made it worse, your affliction!

The next day you’re painfully turned on, pussy aching for more, you followed his instructions and did not touch yourself, instead you forced yourself to go back to sleep, now you’re in the nearly empty church, knocking at the door of Father Gojo’s office. You hear his deep voice speak.

“Come in.” You nervously walk in, you are wearing a shorter blue sundress today, and no panties. You know Father Gojo will see how sinful you are, but when you see his perfect face, and him wearing a thinner, lighter white robe, your pussy is already making your thighs sticky. “My child, lock that door, so we can have privacy… we would not want your confessions judged.”

“Yes, thank you Father.” You lock the door with a click, stepping to him, your heels clicking on the wooden floor of his room. He’s sitting in his chair, fingers steepled, studying your body carefully.

“Do you have any updates on your affliction, pretty girl?”

“Pretty girl…” You’re blushing worse now.

“I feel I must call you what the lord is telling me. Is that alright with you?” You nod nervously, standing before him, the desk separating you. “So how were your dreams last night?”

“They were of you again, Father Gojo. I’m so sorry!”

You cover your face in embarrassment, hearing the soft thumps of his shoes as he comes to you, taking you by your wrists, big hands enveloping the delicate wrists entirely. Your head tilts back to look at him, he’s so tall and big… you’re drinking in the sight of him, his black rosaries hanging across his broad chest.

“You must tell me these dreams, so I may help you. Perhaps they’re some sign that we must see.”

“You… you were licking me, between my thighs.” His nostrils flare slightly, those swirling blue eyes thirsty as he studies you, your thighs shift, his hands still tight on your wrists.

“Your slutty little pussy, I was licking it?” Your pussy is clenching, tummy coiling, at his nasty, sinful words, from such a pure man. You nod then. “I see, there’s no choice, we must see what enacting your dreams does. To try to save you.”

“Y-yes, father, I think so too.” You whisper, hands sliding up and down his chest, watching his Adam's apple bob under that white collar. “Does it ever get uncomfortable, Father Gojo?”

“At times. Take it off for me.” He turns and you undo the collar, when he turns back you see it, his strong neck, the muscles corded, you bite your lower lip, earning him pulling it from your teeth. “This dream, describe it, so I can help you.”

You’re a flustered mess, especially after his fingers yesterday, and all the dreams you’ve been having. You take several breaths now. “You were licking me.”

“More descriptive.” He murmurs now, sitting you up on his desk, shocking you, then he slides up your skirt and smirks, wicked priest that he is, blue eyes darting back up to yours. “No panties, your soul is so slutty.”

“I… well… Father Gojo!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, watching you writhe on his desk now, as he sits back in his black chair, scooting up, his breath right against you.

“You wanted this, to be bare in front of me, didn’t you pretty little sinner?”

“Y-yes, I told you, I’m going to hell, mmm!”

He’s kissing your thighs, your hands enwrap in his silky white hair now, his breaths higher and higher, eying your perfect, glistening pussy. He’s dying to feel you dripping down his tongue, dying to drink your sweet nectar flowing when he’s opening up the lips of your pussy, and you’re making those pretty sounds, you’re so pathetic already, he thinks.

“No, I will save you, don’t you believe in me, pretty? I alone speak for God, I’m the honored one.” His words along with his eyes, those glittery blue storms that see right through you, as if they know your every sin, wreck you now. He surely must be the honored one.

“You’ll save me, I know you will.” You whisper, caressing his cheek now, and he moans softly, just urging you on more.

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me, what did I do in this dream?”

“You licked me, here.” You touch your slit, and he slides his tongue up it now, making you gasp, his tongue is so hot and wet, you’re gushing just from that. Satoru moans, kissing right over your clit before swiping his tongue again. “Father!”

“Shh, lest they hear your sinful mouth.” He whispers, and you clench your teeth, nodding as you watch him, he is placing your feet on either arm of his chair. “And you did not play with yourself?”

“I swear I did not, Father Gojo! I listened. Please…” You arch your hips up, full pussy in his face, and Satoru begins to devour you now, spreading your lips and flicking his tongue on your little swollen clit over and over. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, his rosary is cool against your inner thigh as he works your pussy, just like your dream.

Satoru’s tongue is wicked, for such a holy man you think, and it does the most wicked things to you, no dream could prepare you, even his fingers had not. He sucks your clit into his hot open mouth, moaning as your juices coat his tongue, looking up at you as you cling to his hair with one hand, the other muffling your cry as you feel yourself begin to cum.

Soon you are cumming right on Father Gojo’s face, your thighs shaking on either side of his head, pussy pulsing around nothing, and he’s drinking you up, so lewd in the quiet church office. You’re jerking now, as he leans up, half his pretty face shining with your slick, making you flush at how much there was. Your hand eases down, now just gasping for breath as you look at him.

“And now, my child, how is this affliction?” He whispers, leaning up and laying atop you, pressing you into the wooden desk. You lean up, kissing him once more, earning his moan, tasting yourself all over him, he grabs you by the throat then, long fingers wrapping as he pulls back. “How hard do I have to work to save your slutty little soul, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Father Gojo. It was so amazing… but I just want more, I fear I’m having more lustful thoughts of you now.” Your hand slides down now, cupping him where he’s thick and hard, and he squeezes your throat harder now, his thumb on your racing pulse.

“And what else is in that little brain of yours? What lewd fantasies of your priest, hmm?”

“Sucking your cock, that’s what.” He groans now, pulling you down and putting you to your knees. You look up eagerly, now Satoru is undressing, and you finally get glimpses of his body, of hard muscles and planes as he’s taking off his robes, now opening his pants for you, revealing a huge, thick cock. You gulp as you drink in the sight of it.

“And do you know what to do, how to serve me, my child?” He asks, you shake your head. “Yet you’ve dreamt it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then it’s surely meant to be, hmm? First, slide down your top.” You do as he says, and he moans as he sits back in his chair, gripping your bare breasts. “My God,  you’re made to ruin me. Come here, open your mouth.”

You do as he says, and Father Gojo now guides you by your hair, hair he wraps around his fist, guiding you down on his cock. His curved pink tip is leaking white pearly substance, which you tongue out, earning his grown, his head falling back. You suck him eagerly, swirling your tongue, as his eyes watch you, lidded and dazed, tasting his saltiness and sweetness eagerly.

“You’re far too good at this, are you sure you haven’t been sucking cock, like a sinful brat?” You pull back with a pop, saliva dripping down your lips.

“No, I only want to serve you, Father.”

“Mmm, you’re so precious.” He whispers, before shoving your mouth back on him, and you’re bobbing up and down as he pulls your hair, using it to glide you up and down his length. Your eyes water, your nose starts running as his cock is choking you, your pussy throbbing even more. “Fuck…”

“Father, did you cuss?” You ask, pulling back, with a shy little grin, earning Father Gojo’s smirk.

“I’m allowed to, it’s all God’s words. Now are you finally satisfied, or do we need to go further? Do I need to break your pretty little pussy?” He murmurs, his words like a drug, running his thumb across your lower lip. You nod then, weakly, and his lips part, eyes studying you. “Then ask me, on your knees so pretty, like you’re praying.” He puts your hands in prayer position, blue eyes lighting up.

“Please, break me, Father Gojo.” He pulls you up now, kissing you deeply, tongues so unpracticed and messy, you’ve never really even kissed, but now you feel him, filling you once more with those two fingers as he bends low.

“Turn around and bend over, sweet sinner.” You turn, and now Father Gojo has slid your dress down, leaving you in just your heels, his big hands gliding down every line and curve of your bare body. “I said bend over.”

He smacks you sharply on your backside, making you gasp then whine out, as he presses your upper back between your shoulder blades, your face against his desk. He then takes your hands, putting them behind your back and wrapping them with his black beaded rosary. You whine out at the sensation, he pulls it so tightly it’s digging in, shoving the cross in your palms.

“Hold on to that cross while I fuck your innocent little pussy. Feel it against your skin as I do.” He says, whispering in your ear. You nod, feeling the sharp cool silver digging in, as the beads dig into your bound wrists. “Good girl, spread those thighs.”

You do as he says, and then his tip is in, stretching you, and you’re shivering, breaths coming faster and faster. Satoru shoves his cock inside you, tearing at your little barrier. You cry out at the pain, and he pauses for a moment, moaning, letting you adjust. “H-hurts…”

“Just a moment of pain to fill you with my light.” He murmurs, sinking deeper, and your walls are fluttering around his cock, earning his groan. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Did you want me to take it, your innocence?”

“I’ve w-wanted you, so long… played with… a long ah- time.” He moans now, sliding back out and in, you’re so wet and ready the pain eases quickly, as he takes you from behind now, pulling on your neck, pressing your bound hands firmer against your back, whispering in your ear.

“You sinned so long, playing with this pussy thinking of me?” You nod weakly, hiccuping on a cry as he’s pumping now, taking you over, stretching your tight cunt out so much, your skin burns, but you crave it.

You’re going to hell, surely.

But it seems worth it to be stretched by his cock so well.

“Y-yes… a long time. S-sorry Father…”

“Just Satoru when you cum all over my cock, hmm?” You nod weakly, then he fucks you harder now, thighs smacking your skin, his pelvis smacking your now sore ass cheeks, balls smacking your clit. “Ah, and you’re close already and your first time? You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Satoru!” You scream out so loud he’s palming your mouth with his huge hand, taking over your face, shoving his cock in and rolling his hips, making you climax so hard you cannot see. You weakly drool out of your lips onto his hand, as he feels your velvety walls fluttering around him.

You are made for this, for his cock, to take him. Your sweet virgin pussy is getting so filled by Father Gojo’s huge cock, but you’re already taking him so well. Father Gojo knows then that your dreams and his must be for a better purpose, to fuck you and fill you with all of his light, surely. You’re taking him more and more, cumming so hard your cunt is drooling everywhere.

He lets your face go, looking at your fucked out expression, your mouth is wide open, that drool dangling out the corner, your eyes are rolled back, lashes fluttering, your ass arching up for more. You’re such a sinful creature, but he knows your innocence was made for just him, clearly. You would not have anyone else, he would surely see to it.

It’s God's calling.

You’re pounded and stuffed by his huge cock, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, ass jiggling with the force, then Satoru pulls your chin to face him, he’s so fuzzy, you keep shutting your eyes.

“Look at me, my child, now.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, staring into his weakly as his thrusts slow.

“Y-yes, Satoru…” He moans at the use of his name from your pretty lips.

“I’m saving you, through… mmm… God’s wisdom.”

“Thank you, thank you!” You’re trembling, he’s rolling his hips and that tip is dragging on your spot, you struggle to focus on his pretty face, the sun from the blinds filtering in behind his head, and then he looks like an angel. The cross is digging in so much your hand is bleeding just a bit, but you truly couldn’t care, his cock feels too good inside you.

“Do you want me to… fill you…” He’s crying out then, grabbing you so tightly you can’t breathe. “With God’s love… and light?”

“Please, fill me Father- ah!” Satoru starts pumping faster and faster, yanking on your rosary so hard it breaks as he begins to cum, the beads flinging and clattering all over the wooden floor, the cross still digging into your broken palm.

“Going to put… so much… light in you… fill you-” He moans loudly then, and you feel hot liquid pumping inside, bringing you to cum with him, as it coats your walls, hot and sticky. “Feel it? Feel me filling you with it?”

“I do! I do… Father Gojo… feel it.” You whine out, rolling your hips to milk him for every bit of his hot white ropes.

“Oh… Mmm…” He’s pumping more cum inside you now, but you’re so wet and still convulsing, so it’s dripping down his cock with your arousal. Satoru exhales, pulling out and then wiping you up, turning you gently, gulping as he kisses you once more. “You were sent here to destroy me.”

“Father, I’m afraid… I only want to do it more.” You whisper, he groans, cupping your face, as you bring up your hand to him, where the cross has left red marks on your palm, he traces it, the perfect symbol of the cross, with little blood drops streaking. You wince in pain.

“I see, it’s a sign we must continue.” He says, and you nod eagerly, as he holds your hand in his.

“We must, Father Gojo.”

*****

The next Sunday, you’re sitting in the very front for the sermon, watching as Father Gojo is licking a thumb and turning a page, his blue eyes darting to your thighs, today you’re wearing a pink summer dress. Father Gojo has stolen a pair of your panties, he thinks you don’t notice, but you do, so you decide not to wear any again, opening your legs for a moment.

Father Gojo gets a glimpse of your bare, glistening pussy right in that church, making his cock hard in front of a room full of hundreds of his followers. Luckily the brown stand in front of him covers up such evidence, as he looks over at your face when you cross your sexy legs, you smile up at him, blinking innocently.

But you’re not innocent, not anymore, are you? No, you’re the worst sinner he’s tried to save, and he thinks he’ll have to work harder to save you. And when you’re riding his cock in the confessional later that evening, and he’s biting on your breasts, you’re riding him so well, moans muffled in the tiny room, he’s not sure he can save you truly, you’re too full of sin.

Father Gojo enjoys your slutty soul and your soaking wet pussy on him far, far too much, especially filling you with his cum light.

Serving Father Gojo is perfectly fine, it's God's will after all 🙏 Nanami and Geto drabbles coming some time too <3 Reblog if you're a sinner <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60569476

[strawberryicedcookies]

THE 3D IS FORCED TO OBEY *it cant pick and choose* 🍓

i feel like we always forget that the 3D literally HAS to obey 🌚 like the 3D isnt our enemy at all, though we should ignore it (often times).WHAT HAPPENS IN THAT NOGGIN, WILL MANIFEST IN THIS REALITY

when your affirming and you feel magnetic, your on a roll and your in the state of the wish fulfilled, and then after your done you go back to “omg why is it still not manifested in the 3D?” well because thats the state your in all the time (desperation/desire)🌚. “well when im manifesting i do all the ‘right’ things, i feel magnetic, and i feel as if i have my desire” babes did you forget that your ALWAYS manifesting??? if you go around the world believing that that man is yours ALL THE THE FLIPPING TIME, the 3D has ZERO choice BUT to obey 🤷🏿‍♀️.

so when you affirm for 3 hours a day but for the next 21 hours you dont believe that its yours, babes thats probably why 😬. Im not saying that you shouldnt affirm and shit, yall just forget that when you AFFIRM, your AFFIRMING that its yours. Your REMINDING yourself that its yours, not ‘making’ it yours.

EVERYTHING YOU ARE SEEING, ALREADY HAPPENED IN THE SPIRITUAL!! (learned that at church)

When you decide that your sp is yours or that you’re rich, IT HAPPENS AUTOMATICALLY IN THE SPIRITUAL. You are exactly where you are at in life RIGHT NOW because of what ALREADY happened in the spiritual. Everything is a MANIFESTATION OF THE SPIRITUAL. (think about that.)

guys im back on my late night rambles again but this one is actually important (i hope) 😛😛

[misctf]

Trouble at the Bachelor Party

“Dude! This is sick!”

“Bro, you’re telling me.” Liam replied, as him and his two friends explored the penthouse.

It was fully decked out. A massive flatscreen in the living room, a fully stocked bar, a beautiful view of the beach. It was everything Liam could’ve wanted. Initially, when his soon to be father-in-law offered his penthouse for the bachelor party, Liam was shocked. Mr. Reynolds often used phrases like “irresponsible”, “waste of time”, and “not good enough for my daughter” when talking about Liam. And he wasn’t afraid to let Liam know too.

“Dude! There’s a flatscreen in each bedroom too!” Chris shouted from down the hall, “Fuck, you were right. This guy’s loaded!”

It was true. Liam was marrying the heiress of a massive tech company. And Mr. Reynonds was certainly loaded. But despite his reassurances that he loved Susie, not their money, the older man viewed him suspiciously. Liam came from a pretty humble background and the world of upper class living wasn’t something he was used to. But perhaps letting them use his penthouse was Mr. Reynolds’s way of showing acceptance.

“Okay boys.” Liam said, “We have a few days here. Let’s make ‘em count.” He tossed Jeremy and Chris each a beer. After a quick toast to what was going to be the most incredible bachelor party on Earth, they downed their beers.

________________

“Lookin’ good.” Liam chuckled as he inspected himself in the mirror, “Can’t believe you’re actually getting hitched.” He flexed his bicep, “Sorry ladies, I’m off the market. Oof, I’ll have to practice that line a bit.” He grinned.

Leaving the bathroom, he found Jeremy sipping a beer on the couch. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. His dark brown hair was well styled, and his face clean shaven. He had that boy-next- door look that caused the ladies to swoon.

“Yo Jeremy, what’s up?”

“Not much, just texting Sarah.” He replied, “I forgot to let her know I got here safe and she’s pissed.”

“Oh shit dude.” Liam patted his friend on the back, “I feel for you.” Sarah could be scary when she was angry, but otherwise she was a solid 10. Liam looked forward to the day Jeremy proposed.

“All good.” Jeremy sighed, “Where the fuck is Chris?” Liam shrugged, “He kept me up all fucking night. Fucker must’ve been horny. I’ve never heard anyone moan so loud in my life.”

“Not even Sarah?” Jeremy didn’t seem amused.

“Seriously, we need to get him a girlfriend or something.”

Liam chuckled, “I guess I slept through it.”

“Lucky you.” The door to Chris's room suddenly opened and both men turned.

“Hey boys, sorry to keep you waiting!” The sing songy voice threw them both off, and Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw Chris. His muscles were proudly on display as always. But it was the tight speedo showing off his impressive bulge that shocked him, “Oh, is something wrong?” His voice carried a breathy sultriness, which was unusual for their bro.  

“Dude, I’m not one to judge, but don’t you think that’s a bit risqué?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would Jesus say?” It was well known Chris was religious. In fact, Liam and Chris had met at their college’s church.

Chris shrugged and ran a hand through his curly light brown hair, “Oh this? You like?” He grinned and did a quick pose, “Come on boys, we’re burning daylight!” He said, sauntering towards the door.

________________

The walk to the beach was uncomfortable. Chris walked ahead of his two buddies at an unusually fast pace, his firm ass jiggling with each step. Liam didn’t even know where to begin. What the fuck had gotten into Chris? Usually they’d have to drag him to parties and give him pep talks to boost his confidence. But now? He was certainly turning heads.

“Wait, guys! Did you see that?” Chris asked, turning to his friends and waving excitedly, “That guy over there was totally checking me out!”

“Um, so what?” Jeremy asked, “Why do you care?”

“Do you think I should go after him? He was totally cute. And that ass- just wow.” Liam and Jeremy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Are you gay?” Liam asked bluntly.

Chris placed a hand to his chin and shrugged, “Like totally! Since like forever probably.”

“Makes sense.” Jeremy said, “Repressed religious guys. It’s a thing.” But Liam was still having a somewhat hard time believing it. Was all their prior bro talk really a lie?

“Oh! He’s getting away!” Chris whined, “I’ll catch up with you later!” He blew them each a kiss and briskly walked over to the man from earlier, leaving Liam shook.

________________

Hours went by without hearing from Chris, and Liam’s mood tanked. Jeremy tried to cheer him up back at the penthouse. Beers and the big game on a flatscreen. Should’ve been perfect. But it wasn’t. Liam knew that Chris being gay shouldn’t matter. Good for him, right?

“Oh my god, that was incredible.” Chris said, gasping as he entered the penthouse, “How are my two besties doing?”

“Would’ve liked you around.” Liam replied, “It’s my bachelor party after all.”

Chris dramatically placed a hand to his sweaty chest, “Sue me for having fun!” His voice cracked and he headed towards his room, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

Liam didn’t reply. Sure, Chris is gay. Fine. But acting like a stereotypically fruity drama queen? That didn’t make sense to him. He turned to Jeremy.

“Look, its late and I’m tired. The game sucks anyway.” He said, “I’m off to bed.”

“Same bro. Gotta be up early for our tee time anyway.”

They went to their respective bedrooms. Once there, Jeremy sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this, but what could he do? Talk to Chris maybe? He'd try to salvage this party. But when he finally got comfortable in bed, the TV suddenly turned on. He was greeted by static.

“Weird.” He mumbled. He tried to turn it off with the remote, but failed. Sighing, he got out of bed to turn it off. But as he got closer, he could hear a voice. It was soft, but forceful.

“You are a gay slut. You like to fuck men.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?” He whispered. But the voice only got louder.

“You are a gay slut. Your dick only gets hard for men.” Jeremy felt woozy as the voice reverberated in his head.

“No, I’m straight... I like...” He moaned loudly as the voice drowned out his thoughts. At this point, the screen was flashing various scenes of gay porn and Jeremy’s dick started to swell, “No... fuck...” He breathed out, “I-I... ughhh.” He tried to imagine tits and his nights with Sarah. But these thoughts were instead swapped out with images of juicy, jiggling bubble butts and twerking men.   

“You are a dominant top. You only fuck men.”

“I-I’m a gay slut?” Jeremy questioned, “I only like to fuck men?” That didn't sound right. Right? He never...

"You are a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride your dick."

His eyes became half lidded and vacant as the words carved his new reality.

“I’m a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride this cock." He said confidently, "I am a gay slut.”

Soon, the room filled with his pleasure-filled moans, his new reality taking hold over him.

________________

When Liam entered the living room the next morning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jeremy was aggressively caressing Chris’s face, as the two made out on the couch with their erect dicks on full display.

“What the fuck?” Liam gasped as the two men turned towards him.

“Oh Liam! Good morning!” Chris sang, ending his kiss with Jeremy.

“Fuck, just who we were waiting for.” Jeremy commented in a lower, more gravelly voice, “We have something for you.”

“No, this is fucked. What the fuck?” Liam fumed, “What about Sarah? What were you thinking?”

Jeremy shrugged, “I only like fucking men.”

Liam shook his head, “No way, fuck that.” He replied, taking a step back.

“Oh goodness, you’re upset!” Chris whined, “No Liam baby, its okay. Here, watch this.”

Before Liam could say anything, Chris turned on the TV. Static filled his field of vision. But then he heard it. Faint at first, but present nonetheless.

“You are a gay slut.” It said, and Liam grabbed his head.

“What the fuck?” He cursed, stumbling slightly.

The voice was echoing from within his head. Desperately, he moved towards the TV, wanting to shut it off. But Jeremy grabbed his arm firmly and forced him to sit between them. Liam tried to fight back, to get away from his two friends, but he felt so disoriented. The voice continued.

“You are a gay slut. You like taking cock.” It said.

Liam yelped as a needle entered his skin. He looked down to see Chris dump the contents of a syringe into his arm.

“Wh-what was that?” Liam slurred.

“Don’t worry, cutie. Just listen to the voice.” He giggled.

Liam groaned as the voice got louder and louder, “You are a gay slut. A slutty bottom. You love taking cock.”

Liam looked down and watched as his body hair started to disappear. Gone was his light dusting of chest and belly hairs, leaving him smooth. At the same time, the scruff framing his face vanished. He looked over to Jeremy, who smirked at this new development.

“Oh look at that! It’s totally working!” Chris giggled.

“No shit. Reynolds must’ve given us the good stuff.” Jeremy remarked, slowly massaging his cock.

“The good stuff?” Liam slurred, his voice cracking, “Like, what are you talking about?”

“Good because I was getting bored.” Chris sighed, “I mean, Jeremy baby, you’re an expert kisser, but like, I need a hole.” Jeremy nodded in agreement.

“A hole?” Liam whispered.

He let out a pained moan as his body temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat poured from him as his musculature dwindled away. His hard earned muscles atrophied before his terrified eyes. His bulging biceps and triceps became thin and lean, while his juicy pecs rapidly deflated. In a matter of minutes, years of workouts and optimal dieting were undone, leaving Liam slim and fragile.

“Wow, he’s so light now.” Jeremy chuckled as he man-handled his friend onto his lap. Liam yelped at the sensation of Jeremy’s erect cock grinding against his hole.

“Oh and he’s gotten shorter too! What a cutie.” Chris cooed.

“Ah, ass is still bony though.” Jeremy commented, giving it a firm squeeze.

But Liam barely registered any of this. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the words echoing from the TV. His eyes became half-lidded at this point and his resistance was fading.

“You’re just a bottom, a hole to be used by other men. You are a gay slut.” The words continued, “You like being used by other men. Your only pleasure is from getting fucked.”

“I-I’m straight... I like... I like tits.” He knew his voice sounds more feminine somehow and he cringed, “I’m a straight man.” Jeremy and Chris smirked, “I-I...” images of men getting fucked in all kinds of positions flashed on the TV, “Ohhhh I... I... I’m a...” Liam’s handsome face lost its masculine edge and his hair became lighter in color. At the same time, his cock started to shrink. Inch after inch lost as it retracted back, “Noooooo.... not my cock...” He moaned, tears now stinging at his eyes. His manhood, his masculinity. It was being stolen from him. And he was unable to stop it.

“Your only pleasure comes from your ass.”

Liam moaned again and this time his ass started to fill with jiggly fat. He could feel the extra padding build upon itself, his slim cheeks turning into mounds of soft flesh. And as Jeremy squeezed his ass again, pleasure filled his slim frame.

“Much better.” Jeremy remarked, his fingers massaging Liam’s hole, “Fuck, this is gonna feel so good.”

“Mhmm.” Chris replied, grabbing his own fistful of Liam’s juicy ass.

“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssss.” Liam slurred.

“So, what are you?” Jeremy asked.

“I-I’m...” Part of him didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. But as his lips plumped up into gorgeous cock suckers, and Jeremy’s teasing fingers penetrated him deeper, Liam was drowning in too much pleasure to care, “I...I...” The voice was so loud. It egged him on, beckoned him to admit his new truth. He wanted- no needed- to be like the men on the screen. To be fucked and used by other men. Who was he kidding? He knew what he was, “I’m like a total gay slut! I love cock.” He turned his head to look at Jeremy, then Chris, “Please daddies, use me! I need your cocks!” He begged.

And his new lovers were happy to oblige.

________________

In the afterglow of sex, the three men sat panting heavily on the couch. Liam was curled up between his two lovers, still rubbing their dicks. Despite draining them each multiple times over, he needed more. But his horny thoughts were interrupted by a video call. He grabbed his phone and smiled.

“Hey Mr. Reynolds!” Liam slurred, “Like, we love your penthouse.”

Mr. Reynolds grinned, “I can tell.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, “Look at you Liam. My god. You turned out better than expected. The boys at the lab earned their salaries with this one.” Liam nodded along, not really understanding the implication, “How do you feel?”

“Like a total gay slut.” He grinned, “And I love it, like so much, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Well I’m glad to hear.” he chuckled, “And are your friends treating you well?” Liam adjusted the phone so the older man could see his two lovers, who were both fast asleep, “Well looks like you have two very satisfied customers.”

Liam grinned, “Like totally.” A sense of satisfaction filling him, “Oh! Like, can you let Susie know the wedding is off? I’m like, so sorry.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure. She’ll understand.” Mr. Reynolds replied- mission accomplished, “Now, get back to your party. Enjoy the penthouse for as long as you want.”

Liam’s eyes lit up, “OMG thank you!” The call ended, “Did you hear that?” Liam asked, his two lovers stirring awake.

And so their party continued- and it would for days. Their lives forever changed, and them none the wiser to it. But if their pleasure filled moans were anything to judge by, they certainly weren’t complaining.

[togrowoldinv]

The Retreat

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

When you go on a church retreat, you have a very interesting conversation with Wanda

Note: I have missed writing for this Wanda! Can’t get her out of my head lately. Y’all enjoy this one!

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, sad Wanda, oral and fingering (W receiving), age gap

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When you were asked to go on a women’s retreat, you immediately wanted to say no. The only reason you even go to church is to appease your parents. But it’s the final retreat of the year and you are expected to attend at least one.  

So, you find yourself now waiting by the church bus to load up. You watch as mothers say goodbye to their children and wives kiss their husbands. One family in particular catches your eye.  

The Maximoffs. Wanda, the matriarch, is a good friend of your mothers. They just moved to town a few years ago, but have made quite an impression in the town. Her husband travels for work, so Wanda is often found alone at the church service while her twin boys are in class for the children.  

You wonder how a man could ever leave a woman like that alone. She is definitely the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Some part of you has been attracted to her since you first laid eyes on her.  

Wanda gets on the bus and sits a few seats from you. She gives you a small wave. You put in your headphones to try and drown out the world. The drive only lasts a few hours and soon you’re at the retreat.  

You check in and get your room key. It doesn’t take long to figure out that you will have a roommate when you open the door and see there are two beds. You're praying it’s not one of the older ladies or someone in your peer group who you can’t stand.  

The prayer is answered when the door latch opens and none other than the one and only Wanda Maximoff walks in.  

“Well, hi y/n!” She says. “I didn’t know we were roommates.”  

“Hey Mrs. Maximoff. I didn’t either.”  

“Oh please call me Wanda. This weekend we are peers, sweetheart,” she says.  

She puts her bags on the bed next to the window. Sitting on the bed, she looks around the room. Wanda spots an itinerary on the bedside table.  

“Looks like a busy weekend,” she analyzes. “We should get going to the first session.”  

“Oh, I was thinking I would just rest tonight,” you reply.  

“Nonsense, y/n,” Wanda says. “You came all this way. You might as well try and enjoy it. I know you aren’t feeling the spirit these days, but let me try and do something about that, okay?”  

Your pulse quickens. How can she see right through you? Maybe she’s just being nice. Or maybe it’s worse and your mother asked her to look out for you this weekend.  

She stands and waits for you to join her. You sigh and follow Wanda out the door.  

The first session goes better than you thought it would. At least the food was good and the middling company was made a little better by Wanda’s presence.  

When you get back to the room, it is freezing cold in there. You notice Wanda shivering even in her sweatshirt and sweatpants she has on for bed. Still, you both try to go to sleep for the night.  

At some point though, you get a feeling someone is watching you while you sleep. Or more accurately, as you try to sleep in the arctic environment. Your eyes flutter open to see Wanda sitting up in her bed.  

“What time is it?” You ask her.  

“Early,” Wanda replies. Her voice is gravely, and if you think about it too much you might even be turned on by it.  

“Are you cold?”  

She nods. “The heat isn’t working. I tried, but can’t fix it.”  

You roll out of bed and walk to the thermostat on the wall. Wanda follows you and stands close behind you. You can hear her breathing as you investigate the issue.  

“Can you fix it?” She asks.  

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” you reply. Wanda sighs.  

You turn around and Wanda is still very close to you.  

“We have one option here,” she begins. “To sleep together.”  

“Oh,” you mumble. “We- um-”  

“We could snuggle and then our body heat will keep us warmer,” Wanda further explains. “What do you say?”  

“Okay.”  

“Okay,” Wanda says.  

She leads the way to your bed hoping since it’s the one away from the window it’ll be a little bit warmer. Wanda crawls into the bed and pulls the covers down. She waits for you to join her. You get into the bed cautiously, keeping a little distance between you two.  

“Come on closer, baby. I don’t bite,” Wanda says. She grins at herself.  

You get closer to her and she wraps an arm around your waist. You drape one of your arms across the pillow and she positions herself with her head between your neck and shoulder. Admittedly, it is warmer with the two of you snuggling together.  

Eventually, you both fall into a deep sleep and the snuggling becomes more relaxed. It feels natural when the two of you wake up in the morning still intertwined.  

“Good morning,” you say softly, trying not to get lost in her green eyes.  

“Good morning,” Wanda says. Her face is close to yours. You can practically see every detail of her perfect face. “We should get ready for the day.”  

“Right,” you say, breaking out of your trance. “Of course.”  

You two break apart and you miss her warmth already. When you two show up at breakfast, several people are already in the room.  

“Wanda! Y/n! Join our table!” The leader of the women’s group calls you both over. “How did you two sleep?”  

“Quite well,” Wanda replies. “It was cold, but we made do.”  

“Oh, we can have someone look at your heat,” the leader replies.  

“Thanks that would be-” you start, but are interrupted.  

“That’s alright,” Wanda says, placing a hand on your forearm. “We are okay.”  

It's a strange response, but you try not to read into it. She probably just doesn’t want to cause any trouble. The breakfast lecturer starts soon and your attention shifts.  

At the end of the day, you and Wanda find yourselves sitting in your room once again. Dinner isn’t for another hour, so you are just waiting around.  

“Should we work on our exercises?” Wanda asks, breaking the silence.  

“What?”  

“The vulnerability exercises we talked about today in the final session,” Wanda explains.  

“Oh, sure.”  

Wanda smiles. She sits on the edge of her bed and pats the spot next to her.  

“I’ll go first,” she says. 

“Remind me of the rules,” you ask.  

“We reveal something to each other that no one else knows. So that we can release it and let the weight go.”  

You nod. You have no idea what Wanda might say. Her life seems perfect.  

“Vision left me,” Wanda blurts out quickly.  

“What?” You ask in shock. “Wanda, I- what happened?”  

You hadn’t seen them interact much, but you never assumed that he wasn’t still in the picture. Just that he had been traveling.  

Wanda looks down, playing with the ring on her finger. You can tell she’s holding back tears.  

“Wanda, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I'm really sorry.”  

“No, it might help if I do,” Wanda says. “Things just got bad. They went from okay, to maybe not so good, to fuck we’re over.”  

Your eyes go wide. Never have you ever heard Wanda curse like that.  

“How long ago was it over?”  

“A few months,” Wanda says.  

“And you haven’t told anyone?”  

She shakes her head. “I just keep saying he’s away on business. The truth is he hasn’t touched me in almost a year.”  

“So, that snuggling we did last night was?” 

“The first time I’ve remotely been that close to someone in a year.”  

“Jesus,” you mumble. She doesn’t even scold you for using the Lord’s name in vain. “Can I hug you?”  

You figure she needs human connection now more than ever. She nods and you take Wanda in your arms. She melts against you. Tears fall down her face and soak into your shirt.  

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly to her. “You’re okay, Wanda.”  

“I’m not,” she says through sobs.  

“You will be,” you reply. “I’m here for you. My parents are here for you. All of these stupid, annoying women here are on your side too, okay? We won’t let you fall.”  

Wanda pulls away some and looks at you. You run your hand through her hair and brush your thumb against her cheek gently. She leans in just enough for you to know what’s about to happen.  

“Wanda,” you say. She keeps moving forward. “Mrs. Maximoff.”  

That makes her stop. She looks at you with confusion in her eyes.  

“I just want you. Do you not want me, baby?” Wanda asks.  

“Oh, of course I want you. I just haven’t done the exercise yet.”  

“Oh?”  

You take your other hand and pull her closer by her hip. Your lips are almost touching.  

“My secret is that I really, really want to kiss you right now and fuck you until you forget about your loser ex-husband who never deserved you in the first place,” you say.  

Wanda closes the gap between the two of you. Her lips move fervently against yours. You can tell she’s desperate.  

“When’s the last time he kissed you like this?” You ask between kisses.  

“Never,” she replies.  

You smile into her mouth and move to push her back onto the bed. Her legs wrap around your waist as you pin her arms above her head.  

“Fuck, Wanda, you are the most beautiful woman alive,” you tell her.  

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says. It's her final effort at not letting herself feel as good as he deserves to feel. You move your hands off of her just briefly.  

“We should do this, but I'll stop if you really don’t want this,” you tell her.  

“No, I- we just can’t tell anyone, okay?”  

“Yes ma’am.”  

You put your hands back on her. This time, you go straight for the buttons of her jeans. You kiss down her chest and around her belly. Deftly, you pull down her pants and panties in one fell swoop.  

Wanda shivers beneath the feeling of your wet lips against her hips and as you brush your nose lightly against her core.  

“Oh, god, y/n,” she whimpers.  

“So wet for me, Wanda,” you say. You dive into her core with your tongue. Her folds are intoxicating as you bring her more pleasure than she’s ever felt in her life.  

“I need you,” Wanda says. “Please, baby. Please!”  

You take Wanda’s clit in your mouth and move your fingers into her in tandem. She is writhing beneath your touch.  

“Come for me, Mrs. Maximoff,” you say as you feel her reaching her climax.  

“Fuck!” Wanda comes hard against you.  

You lick her as she comes down and move up her body slowly. You lie next to her and kiss her cheek softly. The juxtaposition of that soft kiss and what you were just doing between her legs makes her heart flutter.  

“Are you okay?” You ask her. She is staring at the ceiling.  

“Yes,” she replies. “Thank you for everything.”  

“Anytime Wanda,” you say. You ignore the ache between your legs, knowing Wanda needs time to process this. “Should we go to dinner?”  

“Oh, I guess so,” she says.  

You sit up, but Wanda grabs your arm before you can stand.  

“I want to fuck you later, okay?” Wanda says. “I just-”  

“Need a minute,” you finish for her.  

“Yeah. Thanks for understanding, sweetheart. It’ll be worth the wait I promise.”  

Wanda kisses you deeply before she gets off the bed to get cleaned up. You watch as she walks with a new bounce in her step that she didn’t have before.  

Maybe this retreat will be interesting after all.  

[heytheredelulu]

To Have and To Hold-

And to Fuck Whenever I Want

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

C/W: Shameless smut. It’s our favorite dirty talkin’, 107 year old super soldier fucking you (his wife) on your period.

Gimme beefy Bucky coming home late, long after his kids are in bed for the night and finding his pretty little wife curled up on the couch with a frown on her perfect face, watching some shitty ass movie.

His cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you in his tshirt and an audible groan rises up from his throat when he rounds the corner completely and notices you’ve chosen to forgo pajama pants altogether. Those innocent little cotton briefs of yours always do him in.

“What’s wrong, momma?” He asks in a low, gravely voice as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, resting a large hand on your bare thigh.

“Cramps.” You reply flatly, not taking your gaze off the garbage rom-com playing on the tv, though you’ve seen it numerous times.

“Oh.” He breathes out, glancing over his shoulder at the dry-erase calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen that you use to manage your large family’s schedule. “Hm. Two days early?” He asks.

“Yeah, two fucking days early.” You snap, shifting in your seat.

He keeps his grasp firm on your thigh, offering an affectionate squeeze.

“You feelin’ that bad, huh?” He asks in a soft voice that he reserves only for you.

You nod, finally pulling your attention away from the television and turning it onto him. The only light source in the room at this time of night is from the flashing scenes across the flatscreen but that little bit of illumination is all he needs to see how glassy your eyes are.

“Oh, baby girl.” He murmurs, pushing your hair back off your face. “Lemme take care of you.”

You shake your head, knocking free a few of the tears that had been brimming your lash line. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help.”

He scoffs, his hand sliding up the soft flesh of your thigh until his fingertips brush the hem of your underwear.

“No. Baby, no.” You protest, bringing your hand down to stop him but his vibranium hand is faster, catching your wrist and pushing it away.

“Yes. Baby, yes.” He muses, slipping his index finger under the fabric and gently wrapping the string of your tampon around it.

“Bucky, that’s disgusting.” You hiss, frowning at him. “I’m on my period.”

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle as he slowly and carefully begins to tug. “It’s just blood, momma. You think me of all people would be bothered by blood?” He asks softly.

You pause, considering your answer but in your silence he continues. “Besides, wasn’t that part of the vows we exchanged in that sweet little church before God? To have and to hold and to fuck whenever I want?”

“That was not in our vows and you know it.”

“Hm, they weren’t? We should consider renewing those.” He replies with a crooked smirk as he pulls your tampon free, tossing it over the couch and into the waste bin with precision.

“I gotta be honest, baby girl. If the good lord hadn’t intended for me to fuck you everytime my cock was hard, he wouldn’t have blessed you with such a perfect little pussy.”

“Bucky..” you warn, sitting upright as he rises off the couch.

He shushes you, his large hands moving to unbuckle his belt as your eyes settle on the tented crotch of his jeans.

“If you think-“ He mumbles, pulling the leather through the silver buckle and unbuttoning his jeans with his thick fingers. “That I’m not going to bury myself balls deep inside my wife any and every chance I get- you are sorely mistaken.” He tells you matter of factly, tugging his jeans down his defined waist and kicking them unceremoniously aside in a pile at the foot of the couch. “Now take off those sweet little panties before I tear them off of you.”

You hesitate, swallowing down the whimper that rose up in your throat at his command.

“I said, off.” He repeats sternly, stepping out of his boxers and wrapping a hand around his weeping cock. He pumps himself lazily once, twice, in your hesitation before letting out an impatient growl and reaching forward to curl his vibranium fingers under the waistband of underwear, not allowing you a second more to protest before tearing them effortlessly off of your body.

“Now, are you gonna follow my instructions or will I have to pick you up and set you down where you belong?” He asks in a gruff whisper, his blue eyes darkening with desire.

“And where exactly do you think I belong?” You ask him defiantly, pulling at his last thread of patience.

“You-“ He growls, grasping your wrists in a punishing grip and yanking you to your feet. He jerks you towards him as he looms over you, his head dipped down to hold your gaze and his impossibly hard cock pressing against your abdomen, leaving a smear of precum across the soft skin of your belly.

“You belong wrapped around me.” He murmurs, cupping your jaw gently and brushing the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip in an affectionate sentiment that felt like such a stark contrast to the aggression he’d just been displaying. It was the little gestures that betrayed that dominance in him, that assured you that this powerful man standing so needy before you loved you so much that he’d do anything for you without question.

You lean into his touch and he lets out a low and breathy moan.

“You belong wrapped around me, momma.” He continues. “Crying out my name. Soakin’ my cock with your sweet, sweet-“ He pauses, his length twitching as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I need you.” he chokes out, settling his hands on each side of your hip and he lifts you effortlessly, sinking you down inch by inch onto his throbbing cock.

He plants his feet and bends his knees, supporting your weight as he cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh while he allows you the opportunity to anchor your arms around his neck. A shameless moan rises from your throat, your head tipping back in the pleasure of him buried balls deep within you as he walks you backwards to press your back to the wall. A low and cocky chuckle is all the warning he gives you before he draws his hips back, thrusting up into you hard enough to kiss your cervix. Choked gasps tear from your chest as he picks up a steady rhythm, massaging your aching walls with every deep rut of his hips.

“I thought-“ He hissed through gritted teeth, dipping his head to nip at your pulse point. “You said nothing would help.”

You shake your head, mumbling incoherently and letting your head fall against your shoulder to allow him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Seems like it’s helping.” He muses, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist as he slows his pace into long, deep strokes, groaning as he savors the way you grip him, the feeling of your building orgasm causing his hips to stutter just the slightest.

“Fuck, momma. You have.. the most.. perfect.. cunt.” He rasps out, emphasizing each of the last words with a brutal thrust.

You break with that last deep roll of his hips, the tension that was coiled tight in your abdomen snapping with a burst of white hot ecstacy, a broken cry escaping your heaving chest as your walls spasm around him.

“Oh God, that’s it. Come on my cock, come all over daddy’s cock.” He grunts, snapping his hips and increasing his tempo to fuck you through the dizzying waves of your release.

“Jamie..” You whimper, reaching a trembling hand to caress his jaw.

His name on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound, causing his breath to catch and his eyes flutter closed with a low and raspy moan. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before you trail your fingertips down his shoulders in a featherlight touch. He buries his face into your neck, his short, sharp pants hot against your skin, his movements growing sloppy and erratic as he hangs on by a mere thread.

“I’m- I-“ He chokes out, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle the primal groan that rips through his chest as his balls draw up and his cock pulses, emptying himself inside you with one last powerful thrust.

He’s still for a moment, working to catch his breath before he tightens his arms around you, peppering gentle kisses along your jaw as he lowers you to the floor on wobbly legs and you sway, stumbling forward slightly.

“Momma.” He says softly, splaying a large hand against the base of your skull and drawing you into his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m alright.” You assure him, a hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest under your ear. “I’m feeling much, much better.”

He smiles, tucking your head under his chin just to feel you close to him a moment longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in a hot bath.”

His hands trail along your spine in a soothing motion, goosebumps prickling along your flushed skin in response to his touch.

“To have and to hold.” He whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your temple.

You grin against his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

“And to fuck whenever you want.”

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[vivian-pascal]

Summer Love

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: You were the sweet, little, innocent girl that your father had raised perfectly. You went to church every Sunday and made sure to do all your college work before any free time for yourself. Your dad and you had a great relationship, talked about boys, college, friends. Anything. Sometimes your dad's best friend would come over on a warm, summer eve. You'd all sit outside and listen while he played the guitar, every time you were with him, you had a tingly feeling in your core. One night, he decides to do something very unexpected.

warnings: age gap, flirting, teasing, jealous!joel, pervy!joel?(just gonna put that in there incase) sexual tension, referring to pussy as 'she', description of what reader wears, manhandling, piv (wrap it up) oral f!receiving, fingering, clit slapping, joel's dirty mouth, thigh riding, joel not lasting, reader is on birth control, aftercare

authors note: so, I just wrote this little one shot expecting it to be just a drabble, but it is a bit longer than I expected and I'm kind of in love with these two and might turn it into another series 😭 what do you guys think I should do??

You laugh uncontrollably as your dad makes jokes about this boy at college that you've supposedly had a 'crush' on. "Dad stop!" You swat him on the shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. "Just sayin' sweetheart." He shrugs his shoulders and you roll your eyes.

"I don't like him dad, I didn't even say anything that would hint to that!" You hear a knock on the door and your dad walks over to it. "Yeah yeah." He opens it and immediately smiles.

"Hey man!" He opens his arms wide to the stranger you're not quite sure who it is yet. When he walks in, you're stomach immediately flips. Joel Miller.

He grins at you as you shyly smile. He walks through the door with his guitar, of course, and Tommy walks in too. "Hey uncle Tom!" You smile and give him a big hug. You've always loved Tommy. He's funny and will make a joke about almost anything. Where as Joel, he's a bit more cold.

"Hey yourself." He squeezes you tightly and spins you around. You giggle when he puts you back on the ground. You all make your way outside and onto the back porch. Joel sits in his usual spot, the rocking chair, and you sit next to him on the lounge couch that holds Tommy as well.

He strums the guitar once to see if its tuned and then he begins to play. The night breeze flows on your face as the music he plays fills your ears. "So how's college goin'? You look at Tommy and look at your dad. He has a big stupid grin on his face and you shake your head as a 'please don't' to your dad so he doesn't mention your so called 'crush.'

"I think it's goin' really good, isn't that right sweetheart?" You roll your eyes and give him a dirty look. "Oh what's this now?" Tommy leans forward as he's more interested in the conversation. Joel stops playing and your face turns a shade of pink.

"Do you wanna tell them hon, or should I?" You cup your face in your hands and run your fingers through your hair. "Oh my god dad, it's not that big of a deal okay? He asked me on a date once! Once!"

Tommy's grin only widens and Joel just looks angry. "Right sweetheart, and what'd you say hm?" You roll your eyes. "I said yes okay?"

Joel can feel his heart pounding in his ears. You? Going on a date? That's a no go.

"Ohhhh!" Tommy throws his arms in the air and sits up straight. "Well? Did you get laid with'em?" "Tommy!" He laughs as you slap his shoulder and sigh loudly.

"Joel, you alright over there? Looked like you'd seen a ghost brother." You turn to see Joel and your eyes widen in surprise. He looks furious and scared at the same time. How is that possible? And what's he mad about?

He clears his throat and rests his guitar against a pillar. "Yeah, m'fine." He stands up and steps over your legs. He stares down at you and that's for sure a sign he's not okay. "M'gonna get a drink, anyone want anythin'?" Tommy shakes his head but your dad asks for a beer. "I'll get my own." You stand up and walk over to him.

His nostrils flare as he sees you pass by him and into the house. You walk into the kitchen and grab the kettle. Filling it with water, you put it back on the stand and flick the switch to start it. You reach up and onto your tip-toes to reach your mug but its just to high. You try jumping but its no use. Just as you're about to turn around and ask Joel for help, he reaches his arm above yours and grabs the mug.

You mumble a quick 'thanks' as you grab your tea bag. "What's his name?" You turn your head to face him. "Who?" He looks at you as he cracks open a can of beer. "The guy you're datin'." You roll your eyes and lean against the counter.

"For the last time, I'm not dating him. We went on a date once and-" "Did you have sex with him?" The question stumbles you. Who the hell asks that? You look at Joel dumbfounded and he just raises his eyebrows. You gulp as you beg the kettle to hurry up so this conversation can end.

"Well" You pause as he stares at you. "Yes but it was only one time-" "Thanks darlin', that's all I wanted to know." He gives you a smile as he leaves you standing in the kitchen all alone. You run your hand through your hair. Grabbing your mug, you pour the boiling hot water and take it outside.

You sit down on the lounge chair and try avoiding his glare. The men talk for a while as you sit and sip your tea, just listening. You do wish Joel would play his guitar again. Something about the way his fingers move and how he strums the shallow instrument makes you tingle.

Something about him, Joel. Makes your heart jump out of your skin. He's always had an impact on you. His voice, his hands, his hair, his strong body. Just everything about him is perfect.

You yawn as the conversation comes to an end. "Think it's time we should head out." Your dad stands up and cracks his back. He grabs Tommy's hand and pulls him in tight for a hug. You stand awkwardly with Joel. All of a sudden, two strong shoulders are spinning you around and you fall head first into a strong chest.

He wraps his arms around your small frame as you try to wrap your arms around his. It's unexpected so you're not exactly sure what to do. He rests his head on yours and you breathe in his scent.

"Don't be gettin into much trouble darlin', don't wanna end up with the wrong people ya'know." He lets go of your body and you look up at him as you nod your head. He gives you a little grin and pats the top of your head. "See ya kiddo." He walks out, grabbing his guitar, and shakes your dads hand.

You stand there for a few moments. Trying to regain composure as you try to wrap your head around what just happened. The fuck does he think he is?

You clear your head and begin to walk inside. Closing the sliding door, you kick your shoes off and head upstairs. You take off your shirt and bra changing into your over-sized shirt and some shorts. You lie in bed and close your eyes. Dreaming of Joel.

When you wake up to the morning sun shining into your room, you think back to the day before and cringe at all the awkwardness. You pull back the sheets and get out of bed. You put some socks on before opening your door and heading downstairs.

Your dad is in the kitchen making breakfast and his coffee already. "Morning dad." He looks up and smiles at you. "Morning sweetie, I gotta head out to work, Joel's gonna be around to fix up the bathroom since the showers not working, see ya later okay? Love you!" And with that, he grabs his work bag and shuts the door.

Shit. You completely forgot the shower wasn't working. Oh well.

You walk into the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with water and gulping it down before heading back upstairs. You go into your room and change into some booty shorts and a sweater, you put your hair up and into a high ponytail. You smile at yourself and head downstairs.

Its almost noon by the time Joel arrives. He knocks on the door and you immediately jump up to answer it. "Hey!" You smile up at him sweetly and he takes a deep breath. Seeing you in your little cute outfit makes his jeans get a little tighter.

He clears his throat and smiles down at you. "Hey there darlin', your dad in?" You shake your head and leave the door open for him to follow you in. He watches the way your hips shake as you walk back into the living room with those little shorts on, leaving much to the imagination.

"Nope, he left a few hours ago, just me and you Joel." You smile slyly at him and he groans. How is he supposed to contain himself when you're just looking too goddamn good?

He heads upstairs and straight for the bathroom. He sets his bag down and inspects the shower. He opens his bag up and gets straight to work.

Its been about an hour since Joel has been here. You decide to make him a little sandwich and bring him a glass of water since he must be hungry and thirsty because of how hard he is working.

You carry the plate and the glass upstairs and into the bathroom. "Here Joel, I brought you some-" Your face immediately turns red as you see his shirt soaked with sweat and his face shining with it. You can see the muscles in his arms and his back. You gulp when he looks at you and grins.

"Well that's very thoughtful of ya sugar." He backs out of the shower and heads towards you. He takes the plate from your hands and his fingers just glaze yours. You take a deep breath in when you smell his sweat and that rough musky smell of him.

He takes a bite of the sandwich and sips a drink of water. "H-How is it?" You stutter as you stare at his veiny neck. Watching the way his jaw moves as he takes another bite, swallowing down the bread.

"Great! Thanks s'much sweetheart." You nod your head as you stare at his mouth. The way his lips bite into the soft bread and how they form themselves around the rip of the cup just perfectly makes you want to devour him.

Once he's done the sandwich, he leans in close to your face and looks into your eyes. "Ya know, ya shouldn't really be interested in an old man like me sugar." Your eyes widen at his statement.

He knows he shouldn't be flirting with you, let alone do what he's about to do, but how could he resist your sweet little self?

"I, uh, I'm not sure what you mean Joel?" He grins as he grabs onto your waist and pulls you into him. He leans in close to your ear and his soft whispers of air tickle your neck.

"I can practically smell how wet ya are f'me darlin'." He leans back and looks down at your starstruck face. "Joel, that's not true-" He snakes his rough hand down the outside of your shorts and cups your mound.

"Really darlin'? Cause it sure does feel like she's drippin'" You moan as his hand stays where it is. Putting the slightest little pressure on your swollen bud. "Joel, please." He chuckles at your begging state.

"Oh no honey, you were just sayin' ya didn't want me." He teases as he sneaks a finger into your shorts, moving your panties to the side and pressing his bare finger to your clit. Your hands perch onto his strong arms as he rubs your clit. "There she is, there ya go." He praises you as his finger slides through your slit and collects your seeping arousal.

"Lets remove these, shall we?" With his free hand, he tugs your shorts and panties down. Leaving you there with just your sweater. His eyes turn a shade of black when he sees your bare cunt.

He licks his lips as he kneels down. You lean your back against the door and brace yourself for what's about to come.

He presses his nose into your pussy and you moan aloud. He breathes in your sweet scent and groans. "So good darlin', s'good."

He grabs onto your thighs and pulls one over his shoulder. He smashes his mouth onto your pussy and you arch your back. He licks a stripe from your clit to your weeping seam and sticks his tongue inside.

"Oh god Joel." He smirks against your core as you moan and try to grab onto something. Your hands make their way into his hair as you tug and pull. He groans against you which only sends vibrations flowing throughout your whole body. Making the sensation even better.

He removes one of his hands from your thighs and reaches up to grab onto your breast. Tweaking and poking at the nipple. You whimper as you feel your orgasm nearing.

He can feel it too. The shake of your thighs, the pulse of your cunt, the way your moans seem to be higher in pitch, oh he knows. He carries his tongue back up to your clit and flicks it back and forth, side to side. "J-Joel!" You moan when your orgasm hits you.

Arching your back as far as it can go. Grabbing onto Joel's hair and pulling it so hard it hurts. He drinks up every bit of arousal from your soaking cunt. "Such a good girl."

He stands up and grabs onto your waist. He looks down at your hazy expression and chuckles. You side eye him and groan. You begin to fix your hair and walk out of the bathroom but Joel's hand grabs onto your arm.

"Where do ya think you're goin'? I ain't finished with ya yet." He picks you up and throws you over his shoulders. You kick your legs and smack his back. "Joel! Put me down right now!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Alrighty darlin'." He throws you on the bed and chuckles.

You lie on your back as you death stare him. He crawls over you and gives you a confused look. "What! You told me to put ya down darlin' so that's what I did." You roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.

"You're pathetic." He chuckles and shakes his head. He slowly leans his head down and combines his lips with yours. You groan as you taste yourself on his lips.

His hand flows down your body, tracing every curve and dip in your small frame. His hand meets your pussy once more and he inserts a finger. You arch your back and moan aloud. "Now, about that 'guy'" Your face freezes in shock. Why is he mentioning him now of all times?

He adds a second finger and you can't help but whimper. "How did he fuck you?" He continues his movements and it just feels to good to answer. He would never compare to Joel. "Darlin', ya gonna answer or?" You shake your head as you bite your lip.

"Right." He removes his hands and sits up on the bed. He moves to the edge and pats his thigh. You sit up and rest your arms behind you. "What?" He pats his thigh again. You get up, confused, and walk over to him.

You stand in front of Joel and stare down at him. "Remove your shirt." You do as you're told and take off your shirt and bra. He pats his thigh again and you hover over it. "Sit."

You lower your pussy onto his strong thigh and sigh when they make contact. His rough hands grab onto your waist and starts to move you back and forth. You grind on his thigh as his hands help maneuver you. You moan at the feeling and wrap your arms around his neck.

"There ya go sugar." He praises you as he removes his hands and undoes his button on his jeans. "Now, how did he fuck you" That goddamn question again. Why?

"Uh." You're not quite sure what to say. It was only one night and those are hard to remember.

"Well?" You shallow your eyebrows as an orgasm starts to near. "We made out first, a-and then-" You arch your back as his fingers start to prod at your clit. "Hm?" He looks down at you with a questioning look.

"H-He just layed me down on my back and fucked me like that. That's it Joel." You try your best to sound stern but the feeling only increases. He smirks and kisses your nose. "Great."

You moan and arch your back as you soak his denim jeans below you. He smiles when you breathe deeply and look up at him. He picks you up once more and lays you down on the bed.

He removes his shirt and jeans and crawls over your body. He removes his cock from his boxers and your mouth instantly waters at the sight. He grins as he sees your face and lines himself up with your entrance.

"Ya ready?" You nod your head in desperation as he pushes in. You moan at the intrusion and bite your lip. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him thoroughly. He groans into your mouth as he feels your tight cunt adjusting to his size.

"So tight darlin.'" His lips hovering over yours as he begins to move his hips. His pelvis crushes your clit and you arch your back at the sensation.

He's not sure if he can last that long. Watching the way your back arches off the bed, your sweet little sounds you let out for him. He knew you didn't sound like this when you were with that other guy. He would never make you feel as good as Joel.

Feeling your tight little pussy pulse and squeeze his cock only made his orgasm unable to control. He tries to hold it but he's been on the edge for so long. Watching you come, making you come, that only turned him on more.

"Darlin'." He moans as you squeeze his cock once more. "I'm not gonna last long." You smirk at his submissive state and tug at his curls. His thrusts become sloppier and more messy as he thrusts in all the way. "Oh fuck baby-" He groans as he spills his hot seed into your weeping pussy.

He rests his head on your breasts as he regains himself. "M'sorry sweetheart." You look into his eyes with admiration as you admire his cute little state. You run your fingers through his hair and shush him.

He begins to get out of bed and head for the bathroom that he was fixing. He returns with a wash towel and some shorts for you. You thank him and give him a kiss on the lips as he begins to get dressed.

You throw the wash cloth in the hamper and put your shorts and sweater back on.

You stand up and scratch the back of your head. "So, maybe you should get going soon. I can just tell my dad you didn't finish it and you can fix it some other time?"

He stands up and puts his shirt on. He smirks as he sees what your trying to say. "Sure darlin', i'll come back and 'fix' your bathroom."

You roll your eyes and walk out of your room. Joel grabs his bag and tools from the bathroom and throws it over his shoulder. You walk him to the door and he walks out.

"I'll be back, don't be too desperate f'me now, I know you'll miss me. Oh and this." He points down to his jeans and your face turns pink. He's somehow hard again and you can't help but drool.

His thumb wipes your saliva from your mouth and gives you a smirk as he heads to his truck.

You close the door and lean against the back of it.

What have I just done?

part i part ii part iii

tags!

@guelyury @livingonthehems @ursagittariusgirlfriend @iamsherlocked @heartpascalispunk @pinkcrystal44 @amyispxnk @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @kotourasan123 @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @littlevenicebitch69

@sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts @itsokbbygrl @mountainsandmayhem @morallyinept @rav3n-pascal22 @magpiepills @javierpenaispunk

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Your Witch (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: It's your hand in marriage in return for ending the terror against your town, and your parents have decided. The Witch of the Westview Woods is to be your wife. No matter how much you might protest.

Words: 7k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, shades of self harm, toxic family relationships, virgin R, oral (R receiving), shades of a praise kink

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly

“I will not.”

You glared at your parents, arms crossed over your chest, lips pursed. Anger was coursing through your veins, hot and acute, making you vibrate. You had to keep from growling at them, or lashing out. This was a level of disrespect you weren’t willing to live with. This was a step too far. This was the straw that was breaking the camel’s back.

“It’s already been arranged,” your father said, his arm around your mother’s shoulder, providing a united front.

“I won’t,” you said.

“It’s your duty,” your father said.

“Duty?” you scoffed, “and what of your duty as my parents?”

“What would you have us do?” your mother demanded.

“Not sell me off like some farm animal for your own comfort,” you spat.

“The Witch of the Westview Woods has made her request clear. If we give her you she will leave our town alone,” your father said.

“I doubt she even knows who I am,” you muttered.

“You are more than aware of your reputation in town. She made her choice. You are to be hers and in exchange our safety will be ensured. You should feel honoured to be serving our town,” your father said.

“I’d be more honoured if I wasn’t the sacrificial lamb,” you said, “you would never have agreed to this if it was James she asked for.”

Your younger brother was the favourite. You knew it. You parents knew it. Everyone knew it. If the Witch had demanded him, your father would have fought tooth and nail to keep him. But the moment it was you being asked for, he was shoving you out the door. James was the heir, you were just a measly daughter. No one needed you except to increase the social status of your family.

No wonder you were being sold off to the first witch that came along.

“And I don’t see why it has to be a marriage,” you said before they could give a half hearted excuse.

“We’re not risking you running off after you’ve been collected by her,” he said.

“I can run off when I’m married to her,” you muttered.

“You’ll do no such thing,” your mother snapped, “now, stop this silliness. This a show of good faith. An exchange. She receives something precious to us in return for our safety.”

“You don’t have to pretend as if you’re not excited about this,” you said.

“It’s a great honour to be chosen by her,” she said.

“Then you do it!.”

You stomped away, hiking your skirt up to speed up. Slamming your bedroom door behind you, you let the entire household know exactly how you felt. Falling back on the bed, you buried your face in your pillow and screamed.

The Witch of the Westview Woods had been terrorising your town for as long as anyone could remember. Children stolen in the night, fires set, storms tearing the roofs off homes. Floods and locusts and droughts. One thing after another that no one should be capable of. But she had magic and no matter who was sent to slay her, she triumphed.

And you were being handed right to her.

If you survived to the years end you would be surprised. It made no sense for you to be the exact thing that would save the town. If it all it took was marrying her, how hard could it be to vanquish her?

This whole thing reeked of something. You just wish you knew what it was.

And yet you found yourself being shoved into a white dress the next afternoon, your hair pinned tight enough to bring on a headache and makeup painted over your face. Poked and prodded, your mother’s servants got you ready for the moment your life was going to end.

Walking towards the church, your father was your guard, his hand around your arm keeping you from slipping away and living life as a vagrant. Anything would be better than the fate that awaited you at the end of that alter.

The organ music began and on heavy feet you were dragged down the aisle. Fuming, you refused to even look at your bride as you were forced to stand in front of her. You were slow to drag your gaze up her body, over her bare feet and deep purple skirts, over her laced up bodice and into bright blue eyes. Your mouth fell open, shocked by the woman staring back you with an assessing gaze and lips curling up into a smile.

This was not a wild hag living in the woods. This was a woman beautiful enough to steal your breath. This was a problem.

One way or another, the Witch of the Westview Woods was going to kill you.

Her voice was husky as she repeated the vows, blue eyes burning you as her gaze rested on your face. You stumbled through your own vows, the wind taken out of your sails. The anger had fizzled out in the face of this woman, so unexpected, so unlike anything you could have anticipated.

Her hand took yours, warm and steady where you felt unbalanced. She slipped the ring on your finger, the cool metal heavy and you found yourself having to swallow past a lump in your throat. You whispered your I do and then her hand was grasping yours and she was dragging you out of the chapel.

“Come on, hon,” she said, “we have a wedding night to get to.”

Your cheeks heated.

You didn’t even glance back at your family as she practically flew out of town. Her hand was steady in yours, gripping tight enough to hurt. She plunged into the forest, branches whipping at you. Any time you stumbled, her strong arm would curl around your waist and steady you before taking off again.

The house that emerged from the trees was small, a cottage covered in ivy, plants snarled together in the garden, a soft light glowing in the window. She shoved the door open, pulling you into the interior of the home. It was comfortable, a fire burning in the hearth. Books were in tumbling piles and there was an armchair draped in a soft looking blanket. She dropped your hand, stepping further into her home.

“Home sweet home,” she hummed.

She flopped down into her armchair, grinning up at you. You hesitated at the door, the lace of your dress scratching at your skin, buttons pinching, too tight to breathe properly. She was watching you from behind wild hair, assessing you.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” she asked.

“No,” you said, taking a step forward.

“C’mere, hon,” she said.

On unsure feet you drew closer to her. Long fingers reached out, snagging on the skirt of your dress, the lace dirty and ripped from your flight through the forest. Her fingers ran over the material, looking up at you from under lowered lashes.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to slip into something more comfortable?” she asked, voice a low rumble that had your knees turning to jelly.

“I didn’t bring anything with me,” you said.

“Even better.” She brightened, “do you need any help?”

You squeaked, cheeks aflame as your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. She chuckled, falling back to slouch in the chair.

“Feel free to wear anything you find upstairs,” she said, nodding towards the stairs.

You lingered a moment before making your way upstairs. It was only one room, a large bed dominating the room. You skirted around it, doing your best to ignore it. The wardrobe had clothes spilling out, a mishmash of materials, all in shades of purple.

You tore the buttons from the dress, doing your best to get out of it. You didn’t bother trying to be careful, never wanting to see the torture device again. Reaching in, you grabbed the first dress you could find. Lilac was not a colour you were often given over to wearing, but you supposed it was the best you had. You opened the window, throwing your heels outside into the garden, your feet thanking you for it.

Padding downstairs on bare feet, you found the Witch curled up in the chair, a book open in her lap. A bunny hopped past and you found yourself smiling.

“Señor Scratchy likes you,” she said without even glancing up from the page she was reading.

“You have a pet bunny?” you asked.

“Every witch has to have a familiar,” she replied.

“Is that a rule or a guideline?” you wondered.

Her gaze finally dragged up to you and something in it darkened, sweeping over you in her dress. You froze but her grin was pleased.

“Well, aren’t you a vision in purple,” she purred.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Lingering by the stairs you let her look her fill. Your weight shifted from foot to foot, not quite sure what she’d be expecting from you. It was your wedding night. You knew how these things usually went.

“Do you cook?” she asked once she was done.

“Do I…? I can,” you answered.

“Good because I’ve been missing that skill for more years than is polite,” she said.

“I can do that,” you said, nodding to yourself.

The kitchen was small and pokey, washing up needing to be done before you could even begin cooking. Having something to do with your hands made it easier being in that cottage. You could focus on that rather than the woman in the other room.

She was nothing like you’d expected. She was hardly the horrifying figure of legend you’d spent your entire life hearing about. She wasn’t even particularly mean as far as you could tell. Disarming, flirty, overwhelming, sure. She was all those things. But not horrifying.

You passed her a plate of food once you were done, doing your best with the ingredients you could find. She didn’t look up, taking it from you, fingers picking at the food. You lowered yourself onto the rug in front of the fire, eating your own meal.

“Not bad,” she muttered, mouth half full of food.

You looked up from the flickering flames, watching her eat. She hardly had the manners that had been drilled into you by your mother. Eating with her hands, she tore through the meat with her teeth, looking half wild. Her eyes were roving over the pages of her book, not paying you any attention.

The sky had darkened outside the window, the only light coming from the lamp lit beside her and the fire you were sitting in front of. The light played over the planes of her face, cheeks sunk beneath sharp cheekbones, eyes shadowed, skin pale. She truly was beautiful.

Maybe you could make this marriage work.

“You’re staring,” Her voice was a low rumble.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Just say whatever is going through your pretty little head,” she said, finally looking up at you.

She pinned you under her gaze. Her tongue dragged along her lips, and you found yourself considering all the things that tongue could do. Your cheeks flamed and you had to remind yourself this was a woman who went out of her way to hurt people.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” you blurted out.

“Were you hoping for some wizened old crone?” she asked.

“The stories were hazy. No one’s seen you in a while,” you replied, “and you’ve been around a while so…”

“So you naturally assumed I would be ravaged by the hands of time,” she said, “aren’t you lucky I wasn’t.”

You pressed your lips together, fingers wringing at your skirts. You hadn’t anticipated flirting. You hadn’t prepared for it. You hadn’t figured out how to respond to it.

“Aren’t you just adorable,” she hummed, “I promise I’ll make you a very happy wife.”

The implication of her words sent a spark of heat through your veins, right between your legs. If she kept talking in that voice, it would be so easy to ignore all the evil acts she’d done and let her have her way with you. No one in your town had ever elicited this reaction in you.

“Yes, that’s the look,” she said, “I picked well.”

She settled back in her chair, smirking at you. You ducked your head, not able to handle her scrutiny. Although, if the way your heart was racing was any indication, the wedding night with your new bride wouldn’t be as bad as you’d thought it would be.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you stood, collecting her empty plate from the arm of her chair. Washing up, you ignored the sound of her in the other woman. This was hardly the life you were expecting to have for yourself. Even in the last 24 hours, you’d grown used to the idea of spending your life with a hag whose company you could never enjoy.

The Witch had turned out to be both beautiful and charming, if not incredibly disarming.

“Come here, hon,” she called through the door.

On unsure feet, you returned to her. She was standing by the fire, staring down into it. You paused behind her, waiting.

“It’s been a long day. You must be tired,” she said.

“I suppose,” you said.

“Come on. Bed time.”

Her hand slipped into yours, tugging you up the stairs. Anticipation curled in your stomach. It wouldn’t be so bad. You might even enjoy it. With the Witch. And not the hag you’d been expecting. There would be no need to close your eyes and think of something else as she got on with it.

“Here,” she said, shoving a gauzy piece of fabric at you.

“You want me to change?” you asked, staring down at it.

“Unless you want to sleep in that dress, but I promise you that will be more comfortable,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Sleep well, hon,” she said, one foot already on the top stair.

“You’re not staying?” you asked.

She paused, eyes sweeping over you.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you should get your rest,” she said.

She left you standing by the bed, clutching a negligee, wondering what you’d done wrong. Trying to ignore your disappointment, you changed into the nightdress, the lace and gauzy material sexier than anything you’d owned back home. You left those thoughts, slipping into the large bed. It was comfortable, more so than you’d been expecting, the blankets soft and warm, the sheets smooth. Laying your head on one of the pillows, you stared up at the ceiling.

Many hours passed, alone in the bed, ears straining for the sound of the Witch down below. The stairs creaked as she climbed them, padding on soft feet. You closed your eyes, not wanting to be caught disobeying orders. The soft thump of fabric hitting the floor, a shuffle, and then the mattress was dipping beside you.

“Does the bed not meet your standards?” she asked into the darkness.

You sighed, eyes blinking open.

“It’s very comfortable,” you said.

“Were you waiting for me?”

The bed shifted. Her warmth brushed against you and a hand slid over your waist. You stiffened, then forced yourself to relax. This was more what you were expecting. Touches and a bed and the cover of darkness.

“Relax, hon,” she whispered, the hand retreating.

You turned your head, staring at her in the darkness. She rolled over, presenting her back to you, leaving you nothing back dark hair to look at. You watched her breathe for a moment.

“What should I call you?” you whispered across the distance.

“What?” She rolled to look at you.

“I can’t keep calling you the Witch,” you said, “I don’t know your name.”

“Huh.” She rolled back to where she was before, not giving you an answer.

You watched her for a moment more before you sighed. Rolling over, keeping your back to her, you closed your eyes and did your best to relax.

“Agatha,” she whispered. You froze, “my name is Agatha.”

You settled down, holding her name close to your heart, like it was something precious. No one in town knew her name. This was just for you.

From that day you settled into some kind of routine with Agatha. You’d wake early while she luxuriated in bed long after the sun had risen. You’d clean and cook and tend to the garden, doing all you could to turn her cottage into a home. Agatha would swan in and out of the house, sometimes gone for hours, singing under her breath, or muttering curses.

In the evenings, she’d curl up in her chair and you’d sit on the rug, whiling away the hours in companionable silence. You’d embroider or begin the process of drying herbs, or stare at the flames as you thought with Señor Scratchy in your lap.

You hadn’t been back to town, nor had you heard from your family. They’d well and truly abandoned you the moment you’d said I do. Truth be told, you weren’t sure you wanted to see them. They’d given you up so easily and clearly weren’t missing you. In your cottage deep within the Westview Woods, you were comfortable and safe and calm. You knew your place and you were never forced to do anything you didn’t want to do.

Sometimes you’d catch Agatha watching you. Blue eyes peering out the window as you worked at taming the garden or glancing up from a book as you cuddled with Señor Scratchy. Each time it made you self conscious but you never asked her about it. The relationship was tenuous at best. You didn’t want to upset her.

She would still flirt with you and she still seemed to gain enjoyment from flustering you. But she wasn’t doing anything to treat you like a real wife. You had no clue what it was she was getting out of this arrangement other than a maid. If that was what she’d wanted, she could have just asked for it. The wedding wasn’t necessary.

And yet you were her wife and you would be until one of you died.

It took about a month before you cracked open one of her books one night. You had no idea what she could be reading and your curiosity got the better of you in a moment of boredom. Looking down at the page, the incomprehensible symbols made no sense to you. Flicking through more and more pages, you tried to understand.

“Interested in magic?” she asked.

Startled, you dropped the book. Apologising, you snatched it up, turning to look at her. She was standing in the doorway, night pressing in behind her, returned from wherever it was she disappeared to for those long hours. There was an errant leaf tangled in her hair. Standing, she froze as you reached out, tugging it free and throwing it behind her, out the door.

You hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten to her. Her face was so close to yours you could count the shades of blue in her eyes. Your breath froze in your chest and you stilled.

“It’s not safe to learn magic on your own,” she whispered, reaching for the book in your hand.

You let her take it without argument, a sense of shame from being caught reminding you how this conversation had started. You stepped away from her, putting distance between the two of you. After weeks together, you thought her ability to fluster you with just her presence were gone, but your heart was thundering and you felt breathless.

“If you’re looking for a mentor, I’m more than happy to teach you,” she said, voice softening.

“You’d teach me magic?” you asked.

“What are wives for?” she said, sweeping into the room, depositing the book on top of a tilting stack. If the way you were feeling was any indication, wives were for a lot more than teaching magic.

She settled you on the rug, taking her usual place in her chair. At her feet, you gazed up at her, trying to ignore the way there was a throbbing between your legs and fire in your veins. She reached out, taking your hand, delicate fingers manipulating it until it was in a position that met her approval.

“Alright, the first thing you should know is that your power comes from deep within you. Not everyone has enough to create even a spark of magic. Do not feel disappointed if you can’t. It takes a very special woman to do even the most simple of magic,” she said.

“You must be the most special woman in the world then,” you said, looking at the point where her hand met yours.

When she didn’t respond to you, you looked up. She was staring down at you, something unreadable in her eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“I suppose I am,” she replied, but it wasn’t with the cocky little tilt of her head you’d grown used to, “now, burrow down deep into yourself. Find that well of power, see what you have.”

You closed your eyes, feeling her finger stroke over the palm of your hand, trying to find what she was talking about. All you found was the fire she brought out in you, the anger still simmering at your family, the disappointment and hurt you’d been carrying for longer than you could count at your place in the world. It was why you kept your hands busy, refusing to look too deeply into the way your family had let you down.

It burnt. Lingering on it hurt. The scars left on your soul were sore to the touch. You pressed harder. The pain, at least, was a relief from the feeling of shame you carried with you at all hours of the day.

“Well, would you look at that.”

You blinked your eyes open, finding light reflected in Agatha’s eyes. Cradled in the palm of your hand was a pale blue energy, roiling and rolling in the air. Your mouth fell open, staring at it, trying to wrap your head around what you had done.

It flickered out.

“Apparently I’m not the only special woman in this house,” Agatha murmured.

You cheeks heated, eyes widened as you stared up into her face. She lent forward, fingertips brushing over the apple of your cheeks, soft and gentle, barely there, making you shiver.

“Yes, I chose very well,” she said, drawing back.

Under her assessing gaze, you did it again and again and again, until your head began to hurt. She put you to bed, tucking you in, fingers gently running through your hair until you fell asleep. Just a month ago, you could have never imagined being treated so comfortingly by her.

So began the next phase of your routine. Your days were your own but your nights were Agatha’s. In front of the fire, sitting at her feet, a desperate need to please her, she taught you to wield and control your own power. Her murmured praises and her soft touches made your head spin, addictive and heady, only spurring you on for more.

Watching from the window one afternoon, the sunlight streaming through the boughs of the trees above, you focused on Agatha wandering through the garden. You’d tidied it since arriving, giving it more order, planting things you found out in the forest to go with what you already found strangled under the weeds. Your hands had been in the dirt, coaxing life back into the garden.

She bowed her head over a flower, you thought maybe smelling it. A smile bloomed over your own face, watching her as she moved around the garden. She was so gentle with the plants, pausing occasionally to look at the work you’d done. You wished you knew what she was thinking but she was always so enigmatic. You never knew what was going on behind her eyes.

When she returned to the cottage, a flower was clutched in her hand, petals soft, a new bloom. You looked up from the book she’d asked you to read, legs curled beneath you, skirt pushed up around your knees to bring some cool air to your skin. Spring had well and truly arrived.

“Are you working for me?” she purred.

You nodded, watching her swaying hips as she approached. All those touches and all that praise had only made it harder to pretend as if she didn’t set you alight. She crouched in front of you. With careful fingers, she tucked the flower behind your ear. Your breath caught. She tilted your chin up, the touch of her fingers against your skin making you heat again. Her eyes roved over your face, drinking you in.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

It was like being pierced by an arrow. You would have fallen into her in that moment, the words begging for a kiss tingling on your lips. Before they could spill out, she stood, leaving you on the rug, breathless and wanting.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” she said, turning from you.

Her skirt fanned out around her calves and just the flash of skin had your mouth drying. It wasn’t as if you’d seen the sight before, but every time it only made you more desperate to see more. It took a moment for her words to make sense to you.

“You are?” you asked, scrabbling to your feet.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, fingers tracing over the spines of some of her books, “I have business in the next town over. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” you said, voice small.

“You might want to go visit your family while I’m gone. You must be missing them,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Aw, don’t pout, kitten,” she said, curling her arm around your waist as she turned back to you, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Her hand burned through the thin fabric of your dress. It was these touches that drove you mad. You always wanted more, to feel that touch on every inch of your body. She pulled you closer, soft curves pressing against yours in a way that had your head reeling.

“Try not to miss me too much,” she said before releasing you.

You could only watch as she moved back to the door. She lingered in the doorway, snatching one last look at you before she swept out of the cottage. Despite the fire roaring and the sun streaming in through the window, you felt suddenly cold.

The days stretched without Agatha in the cottage. The bed was too big and although you could sit in the chair before the fire at night rather than the hard flagstones beneath the rug, it left you feeling unsettled. You lazed through the days, perking up at every little sound, hope climbing up your throat only to be crushed back down when it wasn’t her return.

When the storm swept in, you felt the first pangs of worry. Sequestered in the house, you were climbing the walls, not able to drown your worry in work in the garden. The cottage was clean and there was only so much folding and refolding of clothes you could do before you began to question your sanity.

Lying in bed, you did your best to keep your thoughts away from Agatha. With the storm raging outside, it was easy to conjure images of her getting hurt or stranded, flashes of lightning striking her down too far away for you to find her and bring her home. You tossed and turned, the bed feeling huge and empty and cold without Agatha in it with you.

A crash from downstairs had you jolting up. You froze, listening intently. Another bang. Crawling to the edge of the bed, your heart was thundering, fear seeping into your veins. Sneaking to the top of the stairs, you peeked down.

A shadowed figure was standing in front of the fire, burnt down to their embers. You grasped the closest heavy object, a candlestick fancier than anything else in the cottage that you’d never quite built up the courage to ask about, and crept down the stairs. The figure didn’t seem to hear you, bending to stoke the flames. Raising the candlestick above your head, you swung.

A pale hand whipped out in a flash of lightning, grasping your wrist. The candlestick clattered to the floor. You gasped.

“This wasn’t quite the warm welcome home I was hoping for,” Agatha said.

“You’re back,” you said, breathless, heart thumping for a whole new reason.

“You weren’t expecting someone else, were you?”

You threw yourself into her arms, not even bothering to answer her. The joy at her reappearance in your cozy cottage was overwhelming. She chuckled, catching you, pressing her face to the top of your head.

“Now this is more what I was hoping for,” she said.

She trembled in the cage of your arms. Pulling back, you realised she was completely soaked through, wet hair stuck to her skin in a tangle. Her clothes were plastered to her and she was shivering. You ran your hands down her arms, feeling the goosebumps, grasping her hands.

“You’re freezing,” you said, “come here and warm up.”

You sat her down in her chair, stoking the fire until the flames began to blaze again. You turned, finding her gaze locked on you. It was dark and dangerous, roving over you with a level of possession you weren’t used to. Your knees trembled, turning to jelly as she drank her fill.

Glancing down, you realised your negligee was clinging to your body, wet from the embrace you’d given her, see through in all the places you weren’t sure you wanted it to be. Your eyes met hers again, your shiver nothing to do with the rain water seeping into your skin. Her tongue ran along her lower lip, stealing your breath.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” you whispered.

“Is that an offer, hon?” she asked.

You’d missed her. You wanted her. And from the way she was looking at you, she wanted you too. So why not take what you wanted? She certainly had when she’d demanded a wedding.

“Yes.”

Her face brightened before it settled into something more predatory. Holding a hand out to you, she pulled you towards her. You fell into her lap, a small squeak on your lips. Her hand slid up your thigh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

You lent forward, capturing her lips in an all consuming kiss. She growled, hands grasping you, dragging you closer. You whimpered into her mouth, hands clutching at her shoulders. She burned beneath you, every point of contact making you quiver. Her lips were searing hot as they made their way down the column of your neck. Your head tipped back, giving her more access, fingers burying themselves in her hair. Her name was a breathy moan on your lips. When her teeth sunk in, you groaned, pressing her closer.

“We’ve been married for months,” you murmured, breathless, desperate for her.

“We have,” she said, whispered into her skin.

Her tongue ran over your skin. You forgot what you were saying, luxuriating in the feeling of her worshipping your neck. Her hand was pushing up past the hem of your negligee, seeking out warm skin.

“You were saying, hon?” she asked, lips brushing your skin.

“Oh uh…” Her fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh, “just that you…”

“I?” she murmured, finding the vulnerable spot behind your jaw.

“You never asked me to fulfil my wifey duties,” you sighed.

“I’m not a monster who forces young women to got to bed with me when they don’t want to,” she said before her lips closed over your earlobe.

“But I did want to,” you sighed, “I do.”

“So I’m gathering, hon,” she said.

You kissed her again, already addicted to her taste. With arms stronger than you were expecting, she lifted you, laying you down on the rug you’d spent so many evenings on. The fire was warm from so close, the air heating the chill of the night. A clap of thunder boomed above the house. You jumped, before laughing, self conscious at your own reaction. Her smile was fond.

“You know, when I gave you this nightie, I was hoping you’d look as delicious as I’d imagined,” she said, one hand stroking down your side, “it looks even better when it’s wet.”

She drew back, looking down at you. The front was completely soaked through, practically baring you to her faze. You shivered, breath stuttering. The look in her eye suggested she wanted to eat you alive. Her hand stroked between your breasts, pressing against your stomach when you wriggled beneath her.

“Stay still, pet. I’m enjoying my new wife,” she said.

Both hands cupped your breasts through the lace and silk of the dress you were in. Each nipple was already peaked, pebbling from the chilled water you’d had pressed against your skin. Palming them, she watched your face. You whimpered, not used to someone else touching you like this.

“You make such pretty noises for me, pet,” she said right as she pinched your nipples.

Your back arched up into her touch, offering yourself to her. Your hands grasped her hips, breathing coming fast.

“Have you ever done this before?” she asked, watching you writhe under her touch.

“No,” you sighed.

“Really?” She sat back to look at you, a look of pleasure passing over her face, “I’ll be your first?”

“No one ever made me want to before,” you replied, pushing your hands under her skirts, wanting to feel her skin. It was as soft as you’d imagined, the muscles of her thighs strong under your palms.

“You are a gift,” she said before swooping in to kiss you again.

You lost yourself in it, your entire body a live wire underneath her. She hummed when your hands delved further up her skirt, the fabric still heavy with rain. You pulled away, ignoring the displeased noise she made.

“I wasn’t kidding about getting you out of these wet clothes. You’ll catch your death,” you said.

“Well, if you insist.”

She stood, pulling the dress over her head. In the firelight, she was nothing but enticing shadows and soft curves. You stared, overwhelmed with how beautiful she was. You could spend the rest of your life looking at this view. Pushing up onto your elbows, you let your gaze travel over her, practically drooling. You pressed your thighs together.

“Do I pass muster?” she asked.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you breathed.

Something shifted in her face, almost as if you’d surprised her. In the shadows, you couldn’t be sure, but you thought her cheeks might be flushed. She lowered back onto her knees, straddling your waist. Your hands skimmed over her ribs, feeling her inhale beneath your fingertips. You cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of them in your palms.

“I think it’s only fair that I return the favour,” she said, “after all, I got you all wet.”

Your cheeks heated and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, but you let her peel the negligee from your body, throwing it aside. Her hands were everywhere, barely touching you. Your whimper only had her grinning down at you.

“Use your words, pet,” she said.

“Touch me,” you begged, “please, Agatha.”

“All you had to do was ask,” she said before her hands were back on your body.

Her lips were soon to follow after, wrapping around one nipple. Your strangled moan only seemed to spur her on. The rumble of a groan vibrated through your body and you arched up into her mouth.

Her hands were sliding further down your body and you felt on fire. When she began to press kisses to your sternum, making her way down your body, you gasped. Her hands were gently as they parted your legs, settling between them. You had no idea how she was doing it, but your entire body was a live wire, sending you insane with how good it felt.

“I need you to tell me if you’re about to change your mind,” she said, her lips pressing the crease of your thigh, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop once I’ve tasted you.”

“If you stop you can go back out into that storm right now,” you said.

“I knew I chose right.”

Your head fell back as her tongue made contact with the hot throbbing between your legs. You cursed, loud enough to be heard over the thunder still crashing up above, and your hips jumped up into her mouth. Her talent didn’t just lie in magic, although it felt pretty magical whatever it was she was doing. You gave yourself over to it, uncaring that you were being too loud or too desperate. Nothing had ever felt as good as her mouth on you.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her there, hips undulating. When her lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves you knew resided between your thighs, you made a choked noise, her name unintelligible. She was moaning, the vibrations driving you crazy, spinning higher and higher. Your legs were trembling where they rested over her shoulders.

When the dam broke, you screamed, clutching at her. Looking up your body, she caught your eye, the smouldering burning in her gaze only making you wonder what she would look like when you returned the favour. She drew back, her grin very satisfied despite you being the boneless body on the rug.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” you whispered.

“You’ve never…?” she asked.

“Never like that,” you said.

The fingers in her hair tugged her up your body. Your legs curled around her waist as you kissed her, tasting yourself on her tongue. She chuckled, drawing away, fingers running over your lower lip.

“You are a wonder,” she said, “I knew you would be that first time I saw you.”

“When did you see me?” you asked, sure you’d remember if you’d seen her before the wedding.

“I’d heard rumours of the town beauty, grown into a woman of marriageable age. The way the men were hoping to own you. I’ll admit I was curious. And then, there you were, wandering through my woods, a basket of flowers on your arm. I happened to be passing by as you stopped to speak to a lovely little bunny and I knew I had to have you,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m never wrong about these things.”

“So that’s why you asked for me specifically,” you mused.

“I wanted the prettiest girl in the village,” she said before she swooped down to kiss you again. For a while, you could get lost in it.

“Agatha,” you sighed when her lips began to trace a path down your neck again.

“Come, pet. I’ve had a long journey and I’m tired. I’d much rather sleep in our bed,” she said.

She rose, holding a hand out to you. You grasped it, letting her haul you to your feet. Stumbling you fell against her body, warm skin against warm skin, making your head spin. She slipped her arm around your waist, holding you close.

She swept you up into her arms, carrying you up the stairs. Depositing you on the bed, you stared up at her until she slipped between the sheets, taking the place that had been empty for too many days. She held her arms open to you, letting you curl against her her side.

“I’m glad you chose me to be your wife,” you whispered, face buried in the place her shoulder met her throat.

“As am I, hon,” she murmured, lips pressing to the top of your head.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax properly for the first time since she’d left. Her fingertips were trailing over your skin, stroking in a comforting rhythm. You were on the edge of sleep when you heard her soft whisper.

“I didn’t expect you to stay.”

Blinking your eyes open, you turned your head up towards her. She was already gazing down at you, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I gave you leave to return to your family. I was expecting to find our home empty upon my return,” she said.

“But we’re married,” you said.

“That’s never stopped a woman before,” she replied.

“Why would I choose my family when I have you? They’d never forgive me for leaving you. They gave me no choice in my future,” you said, “I don’t want to ever see them again.”

“They didn’t?” Her fingers tightened in your hair.

“They told me I’d be marrying you. There was no discussion, no understanding that perhaps I didn’t want this.” You shifted closer to her, legs tangling together, “stupid girl. How could I ever not want you?”

“I’m a centuries old witch that terrorises local towns?” she suggested.

“Maybe, but you’re my witch,” you said, “and more importantly, you’re my wife. And I choose you. I didn’t like when you were gone. I was counting down the minutes you’d return.”

“Next time, would you like to come with me?” she asked.

“Please,” you said.

“Then you will,” she replied.

Your lips brushed her skin as you settled against her again, closing your eyes, kissing the closest part of her. Her breath hitched and she tightened her arms around you. Holding her close, you sighed, letting yourself relax again. With her home you had nothing to worry about anymore.

“More fool your parents for handing over the only person who could bring me to my knees,” she murmured, so soft you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it.

Slipping closer to sleep, comforted by the sounds of her breath and the warmth of her skin, you thought maybe being forced to marry the Witch of the Westview Woods was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

[julietsbody]

Im on my knees for perv step bro luke smut please I will sell you my first born child if you do this

u can keep ur firstborn sweetheart

cw; stepcest, perv!luke, loser!luke kind of, religious themes

stepbro!luke who always makes sure to walk behind you when you’re going up the stairs, especially if you’re wearing a skirt or a short dress— he knows it’s wrong, but the slight glimpse of your panties makes his knees buckle, having him stumble over the next step. you’ll always turn back to glare at him like he’s an idiot, “what’s wrong with you?”

stepbro!luke who only goes to church because you go, and the whole time he’s inappropriately manspreading with no regard for the lord, too focused on the way his knee brushes yours.

stepbro!luke who rolls his eyes when you ask him to do things for you, a research paper, fixing the light in your room, catching a bug— he acts annoyed, but he really isn’t, especially in the situation where you need him to ‘save you’ from a spider in your room. you’d run into his room all afraid, basically clinging to him when he stands and moves to look where the spider is.

stepbro!luke who tries to ignore the way your plush tits press against him when you wrap your arms around him after he had gotten rid of the spider, spewing out praises and thank you’s. “i owe you one, seriously!”

stepbro!luke who brings up that you owe him one the next time you come into his room whilst he’s working on something for engineering, he really needs some relief, and you already know what he means when he says that. you say it’s wrong, that you and him shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be thinking like this— but you always end up moving to your knees, undoing his belt, and wrapping your lips around his tip.

luke’s glasses fog up from his labored breaths when he leans his head back, his fingers tug and tug at your hair until he’s practically face fucking you, memorizing how long it takes for you to sputter and draw back off of him. he should care about how dirty this is, but when you’re on your knees replicating the way you pray to your god, luke feels nothing but holy.

[consciouscarrot]

strange pains | remus lupin

remus lupin x fem!reader

cw; abuse of power (doctor x patient), (much less) innocence kink, dub/con, vaginal fingering, p in v, oral (r!receiving), kisses (eek), blasphemy and god stuff, tiny tiny bit sad in places (poor reader is so sweet), rem is possessive (<3), implied daddy kink at the end, one use of y/n

notes; pt two of this fic for my lovely anon <3 thank you so very much for your patience

main m.list

your second appointment with dr lupin came quickly, having spent the past two days obsessively thinking about your doctor and the way he made you feel.

you still half considered confessing to your priest, feeling sinful for the way you clearly took advantage of the man who was only trying to help you, coming undone from his touch in a way that felt too good to be proper. instead of talking to your priest, something that would most likely end up in you being disowned and kicked out of the church, you decided to apologise when you next saw dr lupin. that way, you could atone and hopefully earn his forgiveness.

just before 6pm, you walked into the waiting room, repeating the words you’d planned to say in your head. however, at the sight of dr lupin stood at the receptionist’s desk, eyes locked on you as he slowly smiled, causing you to stumble slightly and your mind to go completely blank, so much for apologising.

“careful, sweetheart. i need you in one piece,” strong arms wrapped around you, lingering as to make sure you weren’t going to fall again.

you flushed, his head ducking down to meet your eyes when you let you head fall forwards. you whined quietly, too mortified to speak, he rubbed at your lower back kindly, guiding you down the hallway to his office.

“go straight to the bed, honey. all your clothes off and put on the gown like last time, okay?”

you nodded meekly, turning away so you were unable to see the way remus’ eyes drifted over your bare form, having to adjust himself in his trousers at the way you delicately undressed and folded your clothes tidily on the chair.

he ‘turned around’ when you said he could, snapping on his gloves before easing your feet into the stirrups and locking them in, standing between your naked legs.

“how have you been the last couple of days? any changes at all?”

you can barely think at the way his hands massaged at your legs, drifting up from your ankle towards your knee, slowly making his way up. you shifted your hips in a pathetic attempt to ease the tension, the ache deep in your belly starting up again.

“it was better when i left you, but it started up again just before bed that night, and it’s been worse ever since,” your cheeks flushed as memories flickered in your head of your last appointment, silently praying that he’d use that lovely tool attached to him again.

“oh dear, maybe i should start doing house calls with you. it sounds to me like you need some more regular attention, i’ll have a talk with your parents about it afterwards, sound good?”

his hands were now so close to your heat that you couldn’t focus, heat radiating from your body, nails digging into the bed as his fingertips grazed the edge of your cunt, teasing touches prompting you to buck your hips up.

“okay-,” you gasp sharply, his fingers finally making contact as he spreads open your pussy lips, gloves already thoroughly coated in your pooling arousal.

“you poor thing, it looks really swollen and painful right now. are you ready to start, dove? it’ll be just like last time.”

he grins at your eager nod, gliding the tip of his finger along your slit, just barely brushing over your sensitive pearl. you bit your lip, little teeth indents forming on the tender skin as you tried to hold in your noises, chest heaving beneath your dainty little cross necklace, the symbol of your devotion to something supposedly pure whilst doing something so sinful.

he gently pinched at the nub, chuckling when you flinched, head rolling back into the bed with a whine, “use your words.”

“yes please, i’m ready doctor lupin,”

“good girl,” remus hummed, pressing painfully slowly against your sopping hole, teasing touches making tears pool in your waterline, threatening to spill over. breathy moans escaped your pouting lips, hard nipples poking through the thin fabric of the medical gown. the material had slipped down your shoulders with all your wriggling, so close to exposing the soft flesh of your tits. he longed to tug it down properly, or to even rip it off fully, to make you reveal yourself to him, to lay there beneath him, vulnerable for only him.

he finally pushed inside, glistening slick coating your skin as his fingers slipped through, pumping unhurriedly in and out, sliding against that sweet spot that made you keen beneath him, back arched and eyes scrunched shut so tight that colours exploded behind your lids, such sweet moans escaping from chewed lips in the most beautiful song.

he couldn’t take his eyes off of you even if he tried, mesmerised by your movements and your mouth, almost desperate to see more of you, to make you his fully. he sped up his fingers, groaning loudly when the gown finally fell down enough to expose you to him. he had to fight to keep himself from cumming just from the sight of you. pebbled nipples arched up as the delicate flesh bounced with his motions.

you cried out, strings of mewls so pretty. he’d never heard anything as saccharine as you. you were already nearing your first orgasm of the night, thighs trembling as they tried to close themselves around him, restraints on your ankles the only thing holding you back. you writhed, hands clasping for anything to clutch onto, trying to push him away even though you needed him to keep going. it felt so good you thought you could die. you panted heavily, whining constantly until you went silent, mouth gaping as your eyes rolled back, shaking violently as you fell over the edge.

his digits pushed you through, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible, before easing his fingers out with a lewd pop, blue gloves soaked with your creamy cum. you whined at the loss, feeling so empty and desperate for more, for him.

head cloudy with lingering pleasure, you opened you eyes, meeting his gaze as you tried your best to silently beg him to continue, body heavy with exhaustion despite the need already building back up deep inside of you. thankfully for your sanity, he took pity on you, smiling down at you as he removed his gloves, tossing them in the nearby bin before easing you to sit up.

he held your body close to his, and only then did you realise that your gown had slipped down, gasping at the feel of your ripples grazing against his shirt. you flushed, clinging to him as you tried to cover yourself up.

“hey, no, no- it’s okay, you can keep it down, even take it off, if you’d like. there’s things we can do to your breasts, and i think it would help your treatment a lot, if you’re up to it.”

he half expected you to say no, to find it far too inappropriate, already regretting taking the gamble when he’d lucked out with you; a patient so pretty and so innocent he could do whatever he wanted, and you enjoyed it.

“okay, i’ve just never- um,” you buried your face in his chest, so embarrassed and aroused. you found it strange that you wanted him to see you, you wanted to feel his eyes on your bare body. you wandered if this was a side effect of your illness, or something more.

remus nearly creamed his pants at that, already knowing it but hearing you say it out loud was- fuck. he muffled his involuntary groan into your hair, breathing in the ambrosial scent of your shampoo. “no one’s ever seen you like that?” he grinned when you nodded into his shirt, “oh poppet, that’s okay. more than okay, i’d be delighted to be the first.”

he eased your head away from him, cupping your jaw to tilt your head back, his hands engulfing your smaller face. your cheeks were rosy and skin was shining with the light sweat, lip snug between your teeth as you bit down, doe eyes looking up at him so innocently as your hands slid down from his chest to just above his belt, blissfully unaware of how much you were affecting him.

he spent a few moments just watching you, caressing your skin as he tried to make you more comfortable, eyes never leaving yours. he knew that he’d never cope without you, that there could never be anyone else after meeting you. he wasn’t sure how he could go about it, how to make things happen organically without alerting your parents to his malpractice, but he’d find out a way. there was no way he’d ever let you go.

“would you like me to help you undress?”

he raised a brow at your nod, praising you when you quickly corrected yourself and nervously spoke your consent. his fingers trailed up your arms, along and over your shoulders before meeting on your back, making your shiver as he untied the strings, careful not to catch any of your hair in the knots. the material slowly slid down your arms, and you pushed off the bed slightly as he pulled it from underneath you, letting it fall to the floor.

remus trailed his eyes over your form, taking in your even curve and dimple and imperfection. you sucked in a sharp breath when he made contact with your bare skin, hands tracing and squeezing, taking in every little detail. you arched into him when he cupped at your tits, feeling your cunt pulse at the way his palm covered you, thumb rubbing at your cross briefly before he flicked your nipple.

“my god, you’re breathtaking,”

you blanched slightly at the blasphemy, not used to people talking about god like that, and certainly not from seeing you naked. you guessed that meant you were very pretty,

“thank you, sir,”

his cock twitched at that, and he longed to fill you with his seed again, but he wanted to taste you more. he’d known that it was too soon last time, but feeling you now, he couldn’t resist. he needed to feel you on his tongue as your naked body shook for him, and only ever him.

“are you ready for the next part, sweet dove?”

“yes sir, please it’s starting to hurt again,”

laying you back down, he let you watch him unbuckle his belt, teasing down the zipper, making you wait for what you knew was coming next. you whimpered at the sight of his hard cock, eyes widening at your first proper look at the ‘medical tool’. you were shocked to find it skin coloured, pale flesh with a couple of protruding veins running up the side to the tip, which was an angry red, leaking some sort of clear fluid, dripping down his cock.

if you’d been in your right mind, you would’ve questioned it, suspicion souring the experience as you would’ve started to think that this wasn’t a normal treatment. however, with one orgasm already mollifying the rational anxious part of your mind, you only cared about getting the tool inside of you and soothing this horrendous ache.

you couldn’t take your eyes off of it as he palmed your cunt, coating his hand in slick before using it to lube himself up, reading himself and tappping the tip against your soaked slit, remus’ focus shifting to your face to make sure you were ready.

you both groaned when he finally began to sink into you, heavy cock forcing your silky walls to accommodate him, steadily pushing in until your hips met, stretching you open. it somehow felt bigger than last time, maybe from the way he stood still for a minute, head tipped back as he breathed slowly, barely able to cope with the way you squeezed him so tight.

you watched him through blurred eyes, tears clouding your vision at the desperation that tore at you, thighs trembling around his body as you tried your best to patiently wait for more. you were a good girl, you swear. just needed to prove it and you’d get what you wanted, had to show him.

only when you let out a tiny sob did he look back down at you, brows furrowed in concern at the distressed noise, so sad sounding that it pulled at his heartstrings. he gave you his hand when you reached for him, letting you cling and fiddle anxiously at his fingers.

“what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“need you, please. wanna feel like that again- i’ll be good, promise,”

“fuck, honey. okay- okay. you are being good, so good f’me. i’ll give you what you want, i always will,” he pulled out until only the tip was left inside of you, waiting until you clenched down around it to thrust back in quickly, wasting no time in warming you up when you were already so soaked and pliant for him, and only him.

you were given no option but to take it, still clutching at his one hand with both of yours, his other grasping your hip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if he left little purple and blue bruises there, marking you as a reminder of how he makes you feel. you were excited to feel over them later in front of a mirror, to take a couple of polaroids to capture the memory and press down on them until the sweet pain sent shocks of pleasure to your cunt.

“oh- please, feels so good,”

“so tight around me, taking it so well,”

he fucked you so deliciously, you both let every sound out, your moans and whimpers intwining with his groans and grunts, creating a song that would play in his head when he fisted his cock to the thought of you whenever he couldn’t have you near.

he treasured you like your mama always said a man should, he made you feel oh so good, head empty with everything but him. no one else had ever occupied your mind like remus had. sure, he was openly blasphemous and he wasn’t religious, so your daddy would never approve, but you didn’t care. as long as you were forever his and he was yours, you would never care about your daddy’s opinion again.

your high built up, toes curling in the stirrups as you clung to him the best you could, slick coating his thick cock as he pounded into you, most definitely creating a mess. his free hand slipped from your hip, causing you to be jostled further up the bed as he started swirling tight circles onto your clit.

he knew you were enjoying the more sensual side of sex that he’d shown you, but he briefly wondered how you’d react to him being a little rougher with you, maybe a scarred hand wrapped around your pretty little neck, fingertips pressing lightly into the sides as your tight pussy spasmed around him.

instead, he settled for leaning down, his warm breath tickling your breasts as you arched your back into him, screaming when his lips enclosed around your nipple, teeth grazing the tender skin. but, only when his mouth deviated did you cum for him, he hovered between your tits, glanced up at you, holding eye contact as he sucked your cross necklace into his mouth, teeth holding it between his scarred lips.

you knew in the back of your mind that this had gone too far, but it just felt too good. his mouth was perfect. you cried out, tears trickling down your cheeks as pleasure thrummed through you, fluid squirting out around his cock as he continued to fuck you, hips speeding up at your unrestrained noises.

remus’ cock twitched uncontrollably at the way you milked him, walls constricting so tightly around him that it almost hurt. his balls tightened, and he folded more into you, head buried between your tits as his mouth gaped open, cross falling from between his teeth as he came inside of you, filling you up to the hilt.

you both panted, bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat that made his shirt stick to his skin, still fully clothed as pushed up, hair flopping down from where it had been so perfectly styled to the now messy locks, strands curling slightly at the ends.

you both groaned when he pulled out, you hating the horribly empty feeling and him from overstimulation. you were barely aware of him tucking his cock back in his boxers, only sign being his belt clinking as you fought to stay conscious, still wracked with the onslaught of the powerful aftershocks that left you shaking, growing disappointment filling you that it was over already.

“are you up to trying else something new today? i promise it’ll feel very good,”

head still spinning from pleasure, you had no choice but to comply, almost too fucked out to even register that remus was speaking to you. you nearly blacked out at the feeling of a soft, wet muscle gliding over your clit, heartbeat pounding in your ears as he began to lick at you, pearly cum leaking out of you and onto his tongue, making him groan at the taste of your combined fluids. he sucked and slurped, cleaning you up with his mouth, making you writhe uncontrollably and mewl loudly.

still ever so sensitive from your previous orgasms, you didn’t last long, stuttered breaths causing your lungs to ache from the lack of oxygen before you fell apart, the blood rushing around your head too loud to hear the sugary praises murmured by remus, repeated “good girl,”s and “thaaat’s it, there you go, baby.”

you completely consumed his every thought, and he knew he’d spend the next couple of days until your next routine appointment replaying this moment in his head again and again, the way your head tipped back, back arching once again and hair mussing on the thin pillow. the way you screamed at the pleasure that only he could give you. the way you tasted on his tongue, the tanginess and sweetness of your cum that could never be replicated.

you collapsed back against the bed, body quivering from the intensity. he rubbed at your thighs soothingly, massaging at the sore muscles that had now relaxed, pressing kisses on your inner thighs, one just above your clit just so that he could hear you whimper again.

“say thank you,” he teased, voice low and honeyed, unable to keep the smile from it.

“thank you- mm- thank you, sir,”

“feeling any better?”

“mhm, much. i think you…” you trailed off, head lulling to the side sleepily.

he chuckled quietly, not wanting to disturb your peace as he unbuckled the restraints on your ankles, “you think i…” he prompted gently, before he carefully cleaned you up with a warm, damp cloth.

“i think you broke me, feels so good. m’like jelly,”

he couldn’t help but smile, his rough hands sliding beneath your bare back to pull you up, encouraging your head against his chest again. his heart fluttered when you melted into him, fully allowing yourself to go slack in his hold. you trusted him so much, he felt a little guilty that he’d taken advantage of you in such a vulnerable way, but he knew that this might’ve been the only way he could’ve gotten to have you. and now that he’d had you, he could never let you go.

he brushed stray hairs out of your face, the strands damp with sweat from where they’d stuck to your skin. resting his chin on the top of your head, he savoured the moment as much as possible, clutching your naked body close to clothed one,

“your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, glass heart so hopeful that he might be feeling the same as you, biting you lip as you pulled back to meet his eyes again.

he leant down slightly, his face was so close to yours, far closer than appropriate. a part of your naïve, little self couldn’t bear that you were participating in something that god wouldn’t approve of, with someone that you weren’t even close to married to, but you still loved it. and you still allowed him to do anything he wanted to you.

his attention flicked between your eyes, his brown irises consumed by the blown out pupils, before it flicked down to your rosy lips. he held your face, just enough to keep you in place as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your milky teeth.

you gasped when he closed the gap, eyelids fluttering shut as you pressed against him, unsure movements showing your inexperience as you desperately tried to copy the way his lips moved against yours. he took it slow with you, wanting to savour it and not make you panic, but also enough to entice you, to make you need more, not just want.

remus swiped his tongue along your mouth, taking advantage of the way you gasped again, swirling it inside briefly before drawing back, allowing you a moment to breathe. you trailed after him, trying to follow his lips for more.

smiling, he leant your foreheads together, still keeping you close as you panted, having not yet learnt how to breathe and kiss at the same time. it was okay, he’d love to teach you. in fact, he needed to be the only one to teach you these things, wanted to be your first and last.

the two of you spent as long as possible just holding each other there, silently sucking in each others heat. he eventually moved back, leisurely redressing you with sweet kisses in-between each item. a kiss to your hipbone for your underwear. a kiss to the tip of your nose for your top. a kiss to the sole of your foot for your socks, making you squeal.

as you slowly came back down, you began to realise that what had happened was definitely sin, but you wondered why god was so against something that felt so good. why would he not want you to be happy, when this was certainly the happiest you had ever been.

remus eased you to stand, holding you up in case you still wobbly legs gave out, but also to selfishly steal as much affection from you until two more days time. he wasn’t sure how he was going to last that long without feeling you, touching you and tasting you. he yearned to take you home and teach you everything he knew. to taste you until the sun came up, and then a little more. he was infatuated with you.

one hand on your back, the other cupping the back of your head, he bent his head down, nuzzling your nose lovingly before kissing you again. you couldn’t get enough of the feeling, kisses with him were indescribable, you only wished that you could get to do it more.

you giggled when he turned around, handing you a red lollipop meant for little kids, unwrapping it for you as he tentatively watched you wrap your lips around the sweet, not realising the not so innocent thoughts that were tormenting his head.

“did so very well for me today, you’re responding perfectly to the treatments. i think we will go ahead with making these appointments house calls, and much more regular visits too. how would you feel about that?”

you nodded eagerly, gasping excitedly at the thought of him being around more often, and maybe even in your bedroom, “yes please, but you’ll have to talk to my daddy.”

“of course, i’ll be looking forward to seeing you again, y/n,” he smoothed down your hair, returning your grin. luckily for him, you missed the way his eyes darkened at the way you referred to your father, and the way he had to subtly rearrange his already re-firming cock beneath his trousers.

remus walked you to your parents car again, his hand straying a little too low when no one was around. your father didn’t hesitate to agree to the house calls, nor to the even more regular appointments when he saw you beaming, visibly happier than you’d been in months, if not years.

you couldn’t wait to see remus again, nor him you. when he returned back to his office after waving you off, he couldn’t help but palm at his length, thinking of all the things he’d be able to do to you in the very near future.