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eff4freddie · 7 months ago

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Touch | Part Four

Your skills are tested more than ever, and Joel finds a way to thank you for everything you do for Jackson.

Words: 6.2k

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Five

Warnings: depictions of childbirth, here there be smut (this chapter is a lot), fingering, praise, Joel is grumpy but horny, Joel has unique ways of showing his appreciation, we continue to stan an apocalyptic grump

Minors DNI

Later, you would be grateful that your makeshift massage table had the good grace to collapse when it was just you on it. You’d been leaning over it, all your weight on one corner trying to set the towels right, when you heard the telltale creak of wood. You yelped as it gave way, landing heavily on your knee and for a moment the pain took your breath away, as you suddenly found yourself crouched amongst the detritus of your usefulness in Jackson. For a long moment you were stunned, your brain trying to catch up, before you felt the tears pricking at the back of your eyes, your jaw aching where your mouth turned down. Your first real thought was that Joel had been right. Your second was that you had no idea how to tally this loss.

You felt helpless, made small and childlike by the shock and the pain, and you wondered if it would mean you’d have to leave Jackson. The town council had been dubious at best but you’d made it in based on Maria’s championing of the cause, and you couldn’t bring yourself now to consider how you would need to survive on your own in the cold, in the dark, realising that the last three months of warmth and safety had made you soft, had dulled your senses. You should never have leant on the table the way you had been, you should never have been so careless. You looked down at your shaking hands.

You saw in them your mother. Your memories of her skin, papery thin across her palms, across her knuckles. How easily she would bruise as her treatment went on, how you went from being able to push down into the sinew to dusting light across the surface, how towards the end all she could tolerate was your fingertips, dragging gentle so as not to tear.

You wiped the tears off your face with your mother’s hands, your own only capable of destruction.

—

The expedition to recover the raider’s stash started the following morning, and you along with most of Jackson went to the gate to see them off. Marla was smiling, riding high on her chestnut horse, her eyes bright and wild looking over the crowd. Your eyes, too, scanned over the faces, your tummy somersaulting with the prospect of seeing Joel. You had no idea if you wanted him to be there, if you were worried that he would speak to you or more worried that he wouldn’t, if he would look through you, keep his eyes empty of any recognition, or if he would stare you down, that same look of naked wanting written clear on his face. You felt your cheeks turn traitorously red at the thought of it, a bolt of something sharp and hot between your thighs. In the time since Maria’s kitchen you had wondered if you had misinterpreted, your mind playing the moment back but this time Joel is disgusted, this time Joel is confused, this time it’s Joel who legs it down the hallway and out into the freezing cold. You found yourself trying to cling to the real memory, trying to hold it safe and fragile in your palm, scared of it and scared of cracking it, brittle little thing that it was.

There were no speeches when Marla and the six departed Jackson. Even Jacob, who you expected to grandstand, was quiet. You spotted Ray on the other side of the street, his eyes never leaving Marla’s back until the gate closes behind her. He looked like he wanted to cry, and you took a step towards him before you saw Simon appear, gripping him by the shoulder and steering him towards the mess hall. You decided not to try and catch up to them, your knee aching from standing so long in the cold.

As you swung around to head home a pair of eyes caught yours, and it took you a moment to recognise that Joel’s daughter was watching you, likely had been quietly regarding you, from her position leant up against a fence post. For a moment you just stared at her, her gaze unwavering and her face unreadable. She looked so small, but so wired, her arms held tight against her body. You recognised it, the perennial fight or flight, and you felt a pang of something sad and hopeful, a flip of the gut. You smiled warmly at her, nodding your head. She hesitated, but nodded back, and disappeared into the dissipating crowd. She may not be Joel’s actual daughter, you thought, but they are so very much the same.

You were halfway home before you heard your name being called, a frantic edge to it that made the hair on your arms stand up. You turned, searching for Tommy and finding him barrelling towards you, stopping only when he can hold onto your arms to steady himself, nearly toppling the both of you in the process.

‘God, what is it?’ you asked, unable to get the fear out of your voice and thinking immediately that something was wrong with Joel, the sinking feeling in your gut dislodging bile snd sending it rushing into your throat.

‘Maria,’ Tommy said, and it’s no better, ‘she’s started…it’s happening and,’ he sucked in another gulp of clean mountain air, coughed for a second like he was choking on it, ‘she’s asked for you,’ he finished.

‘For me?’ You repeated, and now you really heard the panic. Tommy swallowed hard and nodded at you, his eyes big and brown and terrified, and you found yourself moving, heading straight to their house without even considering if this was the sane thing to do. You stopped, suddenly, and Tommy nearly slammed into your back. ‘Wait, did you call on the doctor as well?’ you ask, and Tommy sighed.

‘She doesn’t trust ‘em,’ he said, as if this was in any way a reasonable explanation. ‘She made me promise not to call on him unless it was really needed.’

‘Tommy, she’s having a baby. It’s needed,’ you said, and you watched his face fall. You knew in that moment he would do anything for her, that this was testing him more than anything ever had, and you remembered that this was what family was: throwing yourself under the bus just to properly entertain their nonsense.

‘I’m coming, of course,’ you said, and you saw his shoulders relax. ‘When I say so, you go get the doc. I can be the bad guy,’ you finished. Tommy nodded his head so hard he nearly shook his cowboy hat off, and you were off then, determined to be the sensible one, an Apocalyptic Doula with nothing but a twenty-year-old knowledge of human anatomy and a shattered massage table.

You had only just stepped onto the front porch when you heard the low moan, and you felt your stomach twist. Turning back to look at Tommy you saw the way his mouth was set firm and grim in a line, the way he searched your eyes for some kind of reassurance. You had attended a birth once, in the QZ, and it had happened in the bathtub out of fear that FEDRA would cart the woman off and cut her open rather than waste ether on her, waste the time of properly welcoming a new life into a dead world. That baby had arrived squawking and angry, an entirely appropriate response, and you had stood behind the midwife holding the towels and trying not to look at the remnants of what had brought him here. This was the limit of your qualifications, and looking back at Tommy’s pinched face you realised it would have to be enough.

You forged on, reaching down into your gut and pulling some strength from somewhere around your tailbone. In the entry way your eyes adjusted to the dark.

‘She wanted the curtains drawn, wanted the dark’ Tommy explained behind you, and you thought immediately of an injured cat seeking out the damp privacy under a house to tend to its wounds, to face the horror of its own mortality away from prying eyes.

‘That’s good, it’s calming,’ you said, and you saw how soundly this reassured him, two breaths from full blown panic as he was. ‘Do you have towels?’ you asked, and he scurried off to get them, grateful to have something to do.

In the living room Maria was on her knees, leaning over the arm of the sofa and resting her head in the bend of her arms. For a second you thought she was praying, but you heard her deep breaths in and out through her nose and you realised she had retreated somewhere inside herself, the pain sending her reeling back from her own skin. You got in behind her, hissing as you leant on your bad knee, and pushed your hands into the small of her back, over her hips, supporting her pelvis as it worked to expand enough to let the baby through. She sighed, relaxing into you, so that you held some of her weight in your arms.

‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘I knew you could help.’ You felt a twang of pride inside your ribcage, and you hummed your acknowledgment to her.

‘How long?’ you asked, and she sighed.

‘Feels like months,’ she said, turning slightly towards you. You took the opportunity to reposition her, sliding your arm under her belly to round her spine out, and she groaned in relief. ‘Had been feeling something for the last day or so, nothing regular, I thought false labour maybe?’ She stopped speaking for a second and you watched as her belly seized, felt the ripple of muscle under your palm. You went back to rubbing hard circles into her hips as she breathed through it, finding that you matched her, that you sucked the air in as she did, shared it between you, caught yourself in the moment of relief when she slumped back against you. ‘Lost my plug around dinner last night, though, waters this morning.’

You did some rough calculations in your head, considering this and by the way she was still able to speak, you estimated she wasn’t even halfway there. You steeled yourself for hours and hours of this, felt a sliver of panic slice at your windpipe.

‘Why haven’t you called the doctor?’ you asked, and she huffed out a tired, joyless laugh.

‘You’ve seen him,’ she said, and you had - when you had quarantined on arrival, and as soon as you’d seen him you’d wanted to make a Dougie Houser joke, but you had realised he would be even too young to know the reference. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried to check your pulse in your elbow.

‘I’ve done this once before,’ she said, and you fought hard against the instinct to ask for more, to mask your surprise. She was quiet for a moment, gently circling her hips in the air. ‘I know I’m asking a lot,’ she said, and you heard the doubt in her voice.

‘Not too much,’ you reassured her, ‘but I reserve the right to call an actual professional if required.’

Maria snorted through her nose. ‘Let me know if you find one,’ she said.

—

Maria laboured into the afternoon, sometimes kneeling, sometimes pacing, sometimes lying on the sofa with a pillow between her knees. You kept her cool, collecting her sweat in a damp towel and handing it off to Tommy to rinse, the stressed soon-to-be-father hovering always in your peripheral view. Occasionally he would ask you how things were progressing, as if you had a magic wand or an invisible ultrasound machine, but Maria eventually got tired of him asking and snapped at him to shut it, that no one had any idea. It wasn’t the reassurance he was looking for.

As the sun set Maria started to get more agitated, finding it hard to get comfortable in any position. Unable to carry her full weight, you had Tommy come over and hold her up while she groaned and swore into his neck. You could see that she was tiring, made worse by the fact that there was no clarity on how much longer it would be, how much longer it should be, that the three of you were holding your breath trying to figure out if danger was lurking around the corner, like it so often was.

She had taken to letting out her breath in long moans, the sound almost mournful, as you and Tommy took turns to sway with her, as you held her hand, as you patted her hair back away from her face. Occasionally you would look into her eyes and see that she was barely there, that the pain had now stolen her away completely, that she had left her body to do its work without her tagging along for the ride. Only occasionally would she speak to refuse medical attention, and then not again for minutes at a time.

It was around this point, when the moaning became constant, when it appeared that there was no Maria in the room, that Tommy swore under his breath, gathered his coat and stomped out the front door. Maria didn’t look up from her position slumped over the back of the couch and you didn’t mention it to her, hoping that Dougie was ready to earn his keep.

Ten minutes later you heard the door open again and two sets of footsteps, calling over your shoulder that you hoped he’d brought the good drugs. You heard a laugh, a huff of a thing that froze you on the spot.

‘If I had those ya reckon I’d be here?’ Joel asked, and you wondered if this would be the thing that finally sent you careening over the edge: opening a pregnant woman’s hips with your hands while the man you had a raging crush on sassed you from the doorway.

‘Tommy?’ you asked him as he appeared behind his big brother, eyes anxiously roaming over Maria.

‘Joel has seen this before,’ he said, not looking at you so not seeing the look of surprise on your face that you quickly wiped from your features, your eyes flitting to Joel to see if he he’d caught you and knowing, in your guts just knowing, that he had. ‘I figured he could tell us if it’s going ok.’

You couldn’t help a little ripple of unearned indignation at this, and you informed them that you had it under control. It was difficult for them to hear, though, as this was also the moment Maria chose to bend further at the hips, brace her knees, and bellow from deep within her soul.

Joel regarded this silently for a moment. Tension hung in the air while you all waited for his assessment. ‘Totally normal,’ he said, as if Maria hadn’t just unleashed a screaming banshee from the fifth circle of hell. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘No, stay,’ Tommy said, too quickly, stepping towards Maria and rubbing sweet but ineffectual circles on her shoulder. ‘I mean, you can…if things get…’

‘You can stand at the business end with a catcher’s mitt,’ Maria said, from somewhere under her own elbow, shrugging off Tommy. You grinned, falling just a little bit more in love with her by the minute.

‘Tried a bath?’ Joel asked, and you were about to offer to start drawing it when Maria shook her head.

‘Too narrow,’ she said, sounding breathless but resolute. ‘Need her with me and we wont both fit.’ You beamed at this, unable to stop yourself turning to Joel feeling just a little smug. You’d been at this for hours and he thought he could come in and fix it in five minutes? He cocked a knee and put a hand on his hip, and you could see that in any other situation he would have rolled his eyes. As you looked away you just caught his little grin in your peripheral vision.

He turned to Tommy. ‘I really don’t know what I can do here,’ he said, but Tommy stopped him.

‘Just stay,’ he said, and you realised that he was appealing to his older brother to stick by him, that he was telling Joel that he felt safer with him there. You realised that Joel, as gruff and stoic as he was, was comfort for Tommy. You realised that you agreed.

—

You tried to get Maria to eat some dry bread around dinnertime but she refused it, tired and sweaty and back deep inside herself. Tommy brought out ice chips from the freezer for her to chew on and you avoided looking at them for too long, the memory of the cold across your teeth as you held Joel by the wrist too strong, and too ill-fitting for what lay ahead of you. You studiously avoided Joel’s eyes, only glancing up long enough to see that he, too, was avoiding what Tommy held in his hand.

Around 10 pm Maria started wanting to retreat up to the bedroom, and you followed her up the stairs slowly to make sure her legs wouldn’t give out. It took three contractions to get up there, her face screwed up tight against the bannister, bracing herself against the wall, and when she reached the landing she wailed that she couldn’t do it anymore, that she wasn’t strong enough. At the bottom of the stairs you heard Joel inform Tommy that she was close, that it was time for the doctor. He slipped away into the night to bring him, while Tommy helped hoist Maria onto the mattress. Within moments she was up again, on all fours and howling, as you encouraged her to swing low into her hips, to drop down and let her pelvis open. She told you, rightfully, to fuck off.

‘Do you need to push?’ you asked her, thinking back to the delivery you saw in the bath in the QZ, racking your brains trying to remember how the midwife handled it.

‘I don’t know, I don’t know,’ Maria cried, and you reached out to wrap your hand around your wrist.

‘I think that means no,’ you said, trying to scrounge together some confidence to push into your voice. ‘I reckon you’ll know when you feel it.’ Maria nodded at you, her head bent back to look at you through her armpit, and you gave her what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

‘You can do this,’ you said, and you knew, looking at her on all fours on her mattress, hair wild and matted and eyes now shut tight against the pain, primal and urgent and so incredibly strong, that it was true.

You felt a hand on your arm gently pulling you away, and you stood to see Dougie Howser at the end of the bed. You repositioned yourself so that Maria could see you, sat at the headboard and let her rest her head on your shoulder. You looked over to see Tommy getting down on his knees to lean beside her, Joel in the doorway watching on. His eyes met yours and for a moment the world was silent. An understanding seemed to pass between you, that what you were witnessing was sacred and precious, but that it belonged to the people in front of you, that it was not for either of you to share.

‘Ok,’ Dougie said, and you were surprised his voice didn’t break as he spoke. ‘We’re close but we’re not quite there yet.’ It bothered you that he said ‘we’ as if he was also writhing on the bed howling in agony, but the one functioning synapse you had left advised you now was not the time to point this out.

Maria groaned when she heard this, turning her head to Tommy and panting, as he rested his forehead on hers. You were close enough that you could hear her urgent whisper to him that she couldn’t do it, that it was going to split her open, and the way that he soothed her, how he held the back of her head and whispered words of love and courage, how he knew she was hurting but that she could do it, how he loved her, more than anything, but how much in awe of her he was that she was going to make him a dad. You felt heat in the back of your eyes, swallowing sour across your throat, the intimacy of the moment so breathtaking that you wanted to turn away from it, even as it played out almost entirely in your lap. You looked over Tommy’s back to Joel, saw that he had heard it too, that he had witnessed this moment, saw the way he stood steadfast in the face of such naked love. Saw that he was holding your gaze, letting you borrow some of his strength to carry you through it, to be able to resist the instinct to shy away.

‘Oh!’ Maria suddenly exclaimed, her eyes wide as she snapped her head up to look at you. ‘I have to push!’ You watched as Dougie ducked down behind her again, busied himself underneath her, before returning to the surface and nodding to Tommy that it was time. Your remaining synapse again advised you not to point out that he had just said she wasn’t there yet, then promptly joined all your other brain cells in death.

‘Ok baby,’ Tommy said, and Maria reared up then, swinging her legs down so that her knees were back on the floor, her elbows digging into the mattress. You reached out and held her hand.

‘Can she do it like this?’ Tommy asked and you answered for Dougie, knowing the answer almost innately, not wanting him to try and put her on her back.

‘Let gravity help,’ you said. ‘Let her do it how her instincts tell her to.’

In the end, Joel didn’t need a catcher’s mitt. Maria and Tommy’s baby boy slid into his father’s hands and onto his chest, the younger Miller gasping with awe and love while the very youngest Miller gave his dad a piece of his mind. The shrill cries were somehow the sweetest thing you had heard, somehow a symphony of life and resistance, and you found yourself surging with hope at the sight of him, wiggly and squirming and covered in goo. Joel appeared with the towels and Tommy wrapped him up, while you helped Maria back onto the bed and into a comfortable position. You backed away then, over to the doorframe where Joel had stood vigil for so long, letting the new parents luxuriate in their first moments with their creation. After a few moments Joel came and stood by your side and you almost let yourself reach out, take his hand in yours, so awed were you by the events of the last twelve hours.

—

Joel offered to walk you home and you let him, the adrenaline retreating to leave just plain exhaustion in its wake. You had been wired right up until you pulled your coat on, the warmth of it reminding your tired bones of the need for rest.

‘Oh my god,’ you said, as Joel pulled Maria’s door shut behind you and ushered you down the front steps. He smiled at your tired excitement.

‘Somethin’, right?’ he asked, and you just nodded, didn’t have the words, couldn’t find them even as you jumbled through your brain.

‘She was amazing,’ you replied, your breath fanning out in front of you in the midnight chill.

‘She had a good team,’ he replied, and you grinned back at him.

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, but with each step the exhaustion and the cold got in under your clothes and held you hard and bony by the knee. You’d managed to ignore the pain of it when Maria needed you, but now the ache had settled in. You started to limp.

‘What’s that about?’ Joel asked you, nodding towards your feet.

‘Oh I hurt my knee, you were right, the massage table did come down.’ You were focussed on your feet in front of you, trying hard to slide on the ice, so you yelped a little in surprise when Joel grabbed your arm snd stopped you.

‘You hurt?’ he asked, and in his eyes you saw genuine worry. He faltered, collecting himself. ‘Was anyone hurt?’ he tried again.

‘No it was just me,’ you said, and you turned away from him to keep walking, hearing his footsteps quicken to catch up with you. Your eyes were stinging from the cold and the weight of the day. ‘I was, am, so grateful to Tommy for finding it for me but the table was huge, I had to climb onto it to get the towels right each time, and it was hard to get into a good position sometimes so I had to kind of lean over to get at someone’s shoulders…’ you pantomimed this in thin air, raising one leg up to demonstrate how you would need to contort yourself, and nearly slipped. Joel grabbed you by the armpit to steady you, grunting as you leant on him. ‘Sorry,’ you said, wondering if the fatigue had made you delirious. ‘Slippery,’ you helpfully clarified, as Joel nodded once at you but didn’t let you go.

You expected him to drop you at your front door, but he followed you onto the porch and down your corridor. It felt strange, having just witnessed the miracle of life, to throw him out straight after, so you didn’t, listening to him shuck off his jacket and hang it by the door. He stopped at the doorway of your treatment room, regarding the mess of splintered wood on the floor.

‘Yeah, I know. I’ll clean it up, it’s just really heavy,’ you said and you weren’t sure if you meant the weight of the wood, exactly. You sighed, heading into the kitchen and then stopping when you remembered what tends to happen when you and Joel sit down at a table, and doubled back to flop down on your sofa. You lifted your knee and started rubbing at it over your jeans. You heard the floorboards creaking under Joel’s feet as he continued to inspect the damage in your treatment room.

‘You want some tea?’ you called our to him after a while. He appeared over your shoulder, grinning when he saw you slumped into the cushions.

‘Reckon if I did I’d have to make it myself,’ he said, and you closed your eyes snd hummed your agreement. Instead, he came and sat down next to you, his weight nearly causing the rusted springs to collapse you into him. You watched his eyes roam your meagre belongings.

‘Wood was rotting through at the top of the legs,’ he said after a while. You rubbed absently at your knee and nodded. ‘Tommy wouldn’t have checked, he ain’t careful. Back on the old job sites I spent half my time checking his work, correctin’ his mistakes before the boss got onto em.’

‘He’s lucky to have you,’ you said, honestly. He looked over at you, and you thought you saw the faintest hint of pink under his patchy beard. You wanted to pull him to you and nip on the skin. You swallowed.

‘That botherin’ ya?’ he asked, and you panicked for a second that he knew what you’d just been imagining, before you realised he meant your knee. You nodded, and he grunted in acknowledgement.

‘Show me what to do,’ he said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘What?’ you asked, frozen in place next to him. He was avoiding your gaze, but he slipped an arm behind you and pulled you over to the coffee table, so that you sat facing him, squarely between his knees. He put his hands on your shin, and you just managed to hold in a gasp.

‘Show me,’ he said, nodding down to his hands.

Your mouth was bone dry, your throat threatening to collapse in on itself. His hands were so warm, scorching through your jeans. ‘Umm…’ you started, taking a second to catch your breath. He waited patiently for you to continue, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth on the inside of your knee. ‘Well, I landed right on it so you don’t want to really massage the knee cap,’ you started, casting your eyes down to your leg where it felt almost safe. ‘It’s better to try and move some of the fluid, support the tendons around it because they got a bit of a sudden stretch as well.’

He made a sound in his throat to indicate he was listening, moving his hands to brace either side of your knee.

‘It’s really about gripping around the back of the leg while you kind of make little circles with your thumbs,’ you said, demonstrating with your own hands in front of your face. ‘Sometimes I imagine it’s like I’m smearing toast on butter,’ you went on, and he huffed out a quiet laugh.

‘You butter your toast with your thumbs?’ he asked, gently ribbing you again.

‘And what if I do?’ you shot back, pretending to be offended. He smiled, returning to his work.

‘This good?’ he asked, and you hummed. ‘What about here?’ he asked, moving his hands above your knee and holding firm. He let out a shaky breath and you watched his face as he kept his eyes trained on his hands. The heat from them was scorching, and you felt sweat break out on the back of your neck. ‘Can I do anything here?’

You wanted to laugh, a giggle forming in your chest and threatening to pop out into the air between you. You wanted to tell him he could do anything anywhere, but you gripped hard on the edge of the coffee table and steeled yourself.

‘Same thing but just rather than circles try and kind of push down towards the knee.’ His grip was firm, his hands so strong. You held your jaw shut tight, not sure whether you wanted to laugh or scream, the wings brushing so hard against the inside of your ribcage now you wouldn’t have been surprised if the feather started to strip away, if you opened your mouth and coughed them up onto the rug.

‘I gotta tell ya, I thought you were lyin’ about going to school for this,’ he confessed, and your attention snapped back to the man in front of you. ‘You must have been young on outbreak day,’ he said, and you nodded. ‘But I saw how you were with Maria tonight I…I knew it then. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.’

‘It’s ok,’ you said, your voice quiet. ‘I was young, but my mum…when I was 15 she got…and she needed so much medical help, one of the things that they said would help with the chemo was…so I went to school for it on the weekends and…I helped her.’ You were aware you had yet to finish a full sentence, but your poor brain was scrambling to understand what was happening, had been scrambling all day. You saw again your mother and father standing at the kitchen sink peeling potatoes, your mother’s favourite knitted beanie covering her head. Honey I’m going to Jackson. See if I care.

You came back into the room, your mind drifting back to the man in front of you, who was watching you openly now, his hands still on your knee.

‘So beautiful,’ he said, almost to himself. You felt heat bloom across your chest. ‘Doin’ so much for so many people. Will you let me do something for you?’

Your vision blurred, your eyes watery, and you nodded, suddenly shy. He stood and tugged you up into standing, coming forward to support your weight, his lower hand on your back and your nose buried in his shoulder. You felt him grip the button of your jeans, popping it open with one hand.

‘Take these off baby, so I can take care of you,’ he said and your fingers moved of their own accord, pushing the denim off your legs and down to your feet, where he helped you step out of them. He sat you back down on the coffee table, getting onto the floor in front of you, inspecting your now naked knee as he held it in his hands. His bare skin on your bare skin, his pulse against yours.

He clicked his tongue at the sight of the purple and yellow bruise blooming across it. ‘Poor little thing,’ he cooed, bending down to place a feather light kiss on it, his hand gripping the back of it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thigh. You broke out in shivers, temporarily unable to speak, letting out a breathy whimper when he moved his hand up to pull you towards him, the edge of the table digging into your bottom. ‘I know, baby,’ he hummed, his voice gravelly and dipped in sin. Your cunt throbbed in time to your thundering pulse, the heat between your legs unbearable, making you want to squirm, but he held you fast.

‘Can I do anything here?’ he asked, moving his hand up, his other mirroring his actions on your other thigh, his fingers close enough to brush against your panties but he stayed achingly far from your centre. He pulled your thighs apart, making room for himself as he shuffled forward. You shook your head, willing him closer, higher and further, inside. ‘No?’ he asked, pretending not to understand, and you nearly cried out. The ache was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the heat and the pulse of it stopping you from forming any kind of cogent thought.

He moved his hands to bracket your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on the crest of the bone, and you keened, staring imploringly into his sparkling brown eyes. If he was going to continue to torture you, you were not going to stand for it, the moment you regained your ability to move.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he said, but the bastard didn’t mean it. ‘You’re so good to us, so good to this town. I won’t tease ya.’

And he didn’t, then, slipping his hands under your underwear and running his fingers up against your dripping seam. You gasped, rocking your hips into his hand, as he circled your clit with one hand and pushed two strong, thick fingers into your cunt. He watched your face as you screwed your eyes shut, the pleasure almost painful in its entirety, sending sparks into your fingertips and down to the tip of your tongue. You heard the hoarseness of your voice as you cried out into the quiet of your living room, your hands flying to grip Joel’s flannel shirt.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, genuinely surprised by the way he had set your entire nervous system ablaze.

‘Sssh,’ he said, ‘I know baby, I know.’ He manoeuvred his hands inside your underwear, stretching the stitching almost to breaking point, and you didn’t fucking care if he destroyed every piece of clothing you owned, would ever own.

‘Take them off, take them,’ you muttered, pulling at them to get free, suddenly feeling the cotton too tight across your hips. He gripped them, stripped you of them in one swoop, barely missing a beat as he pumped in and out of you.

‘So good to me, so good to us,’ he muttered, his eyes watching the contortions of your face as he systematically took you apart. ‘Slipping that ice into that mouth,’ he added, and you would have been shy about it except that you were currently spread open on yet another table, every breath pushing you closer to toppling over the edge.

You felt your cunt gripping, your weight now bearing down on his hand, as you reached forward and grabbed him by the wrist, pushing him further into you, to graze against the spongey spot you could never reach yourself.

‘Oh, fuck, baby,’ he said, as you moaned high and tight, ‘show me how you like it, show me how to help you.’

‘There, there,’ you whimpered, the weight in your pelvis heavy now, the heat expanding out into your limbs, the speed of it breathtaking, as if all your life you had been waiting for this one man to touch you. ‘Please,’ you added, a gasping benediction to nothing in particular.

When you came, hips circling Joel’s pumping hand, your own grasped in his shirt, head thrown back to the ceiling and eyes shut tight, you forgot for a moment. Forgot to tally your losses, to keep the running sheet in your head of grief and of fury. Forgot the world had ended, taking with it first your family, then your home, and then your self. Forgot for a moment the dying light over the mountains surrounding Jackson, the cold and the bite of winter nipping fast into your bones. For a moment you floated, anchored as you were to the world by Joel’s touch, his breath hot on your neck as he repeated and repeated and repeated your name.

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@littlemisspascal

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller

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nena-la-fresa · 9 months ago

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The Dragon and The Wolf |Part 1|

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Part 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f! Stark Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage | Steamy Themes | Angst |

Word Count: 1807

A/N: Hasn't been proof read so bear with me I'll fix it later. Aemond is also aged up to the actors age cuz that’s the age he looks.

You could overhear the whispers, the pity in their voices. The young wolf being sent off to marry a dragon.

All due to the stupidity of your house. How infuriating that they accepted an audience with Rhaenyra's son. It was most definitely seen as an act of treason to the Crown. No matter how much you pleaded with your father not to accept the meeting. You had the sight, you had seen what would happen if they had sided with her. You never disliked Rhaenyra, she was absolutely beautiful, you had always admired her since you were a child. But knowing that the safety of your family was now jeopardized you could not stay silent. But your family was permitted to stay on good terms with the Crown under the condition that you marry Prince Aemond.

The whispers of how you were kissed by visions from the gods had reached Otto. He was the reason your family was given a second chance. What better way to win wars and make sure his blood stayed on the throne than to marry his grandson to a Greenseer. The wedding would take place in a month's time. Plans had been formed to begin as soon as you had left for Kings Landing.

The road was long and no amount of sleep could calm your nerves.

“Mother please not now.”

Aemond pushes the door to his chambers, unable to close it as Alicent was close behind.

“I understand you are upset. But you know it is your duty. Your brother is sick, he’s practically on his deathbed. So your grandfather thought it was best to find you a wife in preparation.”

“The Stark girl who comes from a traitor family? How is that any good?” His voice hinted with malice.

“Because she is a great asset to our family. You know how your father always spoke of Targayens and their prophecies. How they escaped Old Valyria. This could be good for us, Aemond. We wouldn’t have to lose anyone else.” She moved forward and touched his arm as he stared into the fire. “Aemond please.”

“It’s not as if I have a choice mother.” He sighed and placed his hand on hers. No matter how frustrating a situation he could never be upset with her. “When will the wedding take place?”

“Two days after she arrives.”

Much to your dismay you had arrived at King's Landing. Your wedding was in two days time, nothing could prepare you for it. You hadn’t even seen your betrothed since the moment you got there. You had met the Queen and she had asked for your forgiveness at her sons, ‘Shyness’. You expected as much. You heard rumors, the whispers of how cold Aemond was. In fact you preferred that he didn’t see you. But contrary to what people believe you were not always within the favor of the gods.

“I know what people say of my son. And I am sorry you have to hear that. But I can assure you he is at the very least a gentleman. If my son ever does you harm please do let me know and I will do my best to correct his behavior. “

“Thank you. I very much- '' You were cut off by the sounds of the doors opening loudly combined with heavy footsteps.

“Mother, Aegon has been begging for you. Please shut hi-'' He paused as he saw you sitting there. Before you turned to him could only describe you as cold looking and distant, with a hint of poise. He thought your look was very fitting for a Northerner. And had he known his mother requested an audience with you he wouldn’t have come barging in.

“Good you're here.” Alicent got up from her seat and headed towards him. “I’ll deal with your brother. But the two of you need to converse.”

Alicent closes the door behind her, “Make sure he doesn’t leave just yet.” She tells the guard on post.

You turned away from him and focused your attention on the fire as you began to fidget with your hands. Aemond takes notice of it, and he sees the same movement his mother does when she gets nervous. Then he hears you wince, and the sight of blood can be seen on your thumb.

“Stop that.” He took three steps before he was in front of you and grabbed your hands. You had looked up at him in surprise, looking at him now you couldn’t believe the rumors you heard of him looking hideous. Your eyes softened a bit at his touch and by the look of concern he gave you. He had an ethereal beauty to him, even with the eyepatch and scar.

As he looked down at you he took notice of your eyes, doe like. And that coldness he saw was gone for the moment. He then remembered the blood on your hand, not having anything to wipe away the blood he brought your hand up to his lips and sucked the blood.

You should be weirded out. But the sensation of his tongue and lips against your finger sent a shiver down your spine that made its way to your nether regions.

“Aemond.” You whispered his name. Yet it seemed as if he didn’t hear you. You cleared your throat and spoke clearly, “I think the blood has stopped now.”

He let go of your hand “Forgive me.” In a panic he turns and heads straight for the door. As he opens the door the guards stop him.

“Forgive me Prince Aemond but your mother said not to let you leave just yet.” Aemond gave the guard a look.

“You must be joking.”

“Sorry my Prince.” The guard shut the door leaving Aemond trapped.

“Unbelievable.” Aemond made his way over to sit by the fireplace. You both sat in silence for what felt like hours. You watched him as the fire casted a shadow on one side of his face and illuminated the other.

“Are you always so quick to run away?” You playfully joked.

He turned his head quickly to you and was quick to respond, “Maybe if you had not picked at your skin I would not have run away.”

You were taken aback by his response, almost getting whiplash by his change in tone. Just a minute ago he was gentle with you. “Me? Then maybe you should not have kissed my finger.”

“You dare argue with me?” He scoffed.

“Yes and what of it.” You stood up and made your way over to him. “Are you going to have me killed?”

He laughed and stood up, he towered over you. “No.” He smirked and leaned down at eye level, “I could just do it myself.”

“And risk another war?”

“Oh please, your father begged my grandsire for forgiveness. You really think they’d go to war for a daughter?”

“You must know very well considering they call you kinslayer.”

“Hold your tongue.” He hissed and grabbed your face firmly.

“You must know what love for one’s child could make anyone do. What your sister did for her son, and what your mother did for hers.”

“Do you always speak when you’re told not to?” His voice no longer hinted with any concern he had for you earlier. You felt his breathing become heavy, and his grip tightened.

“Do I upset you?” You smirked slightly, “Were you expecting someone quiet? Someone who won’t put up a fight?”

“Like how you put up a fight when I cleaned your blood?” His face moves closer to your ear as he whispers. “You don’t think I could feel you shaking? Or hear your breathing hitch?”

“What are you doing?” You try to pull away as you feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Not much of a fight you’re putting up is it.” He kissed your neck, and sucked for just a second. Just enough to make you let out a small whimper.

“Aemond stop.” You pleaded as he kept teasing you. You felt the heat rising in your body and I’m sure that he felt it too.

His lips were moving down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked a bit harder, enough to leave a mark, you winced and pushed him away. Without even thinking you slapped him.

His face turned only slightly, it was almost as if it hadn’t even hurt him. You kept looking at him and noticed the light tint of red on his cheek. Not only that but the corner of his lip began to bleed, the sight of it had distracted you from the stinging pain coming from your palm.

You hurt him, but he kept pushing. But maybe it was your fault for teasing him. But he practically defiled you before you were even married. He went too far. Yes you were to be married but, what of this mark. What will others think? Will they think you were a whore? Will they question your virtue and think another man has touched you? Will this get your family and you killed? You hadn’t seen this, in fact you hadn’t seen anything regarding Aemond in your dreams or visions. Your thoughts ran wild and you couldn’t stand to be here anymore. It was all overwhelming. What were you doing here? How could your father be so stupid. How could he do this to you? You weren’t some common whore.

“Forgive me, my Lady. I went to fa-” Before he could even finish what he wanted you were gone. His head turned to hear the doors fling open and your scurrying footsteps. He began to run after you but ran into his mother in the corridor. Alicent had looked back at you and then at her son. She could see his tinted check and the blood.

“Aemond what did you do?” She wiped the blood off his lip.

The next two days were spent with you avoiding Aemond at all cost. You had practically locked yourself in your chambers. Thankfully Alicent had permitted it, but that didn’t help much as tomorrow was the day. The day you would be binded to him forever. The whole day was nothing but making sure that your dress still fit and that you were prepped for consummating the marriage. It has plagued your mind. Not even sleep could help with this.

The sounds of the bells had brought you out of your trance. You don’t even remember how you got up here. But here you were next to Aemond hand in hand about to be trapped.

As both your hands were tied together the man spoke, “Let it be known that Y/n of House Stark and Aemond of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

#xreader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #x reader #hotd x reader

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ist4rgirlo · 1 year ago

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─── 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 - 𝐜.𝐟 : 𝐈𝐕

Summary: Being Belly & Steven’s older sibling has it’s pros and cons. protecting them and taking care of them is a must, but do you really have to put their feelings first instead of your own?

Prev ; Next || Conrad Fisher x fem!reader || My blog

Warnings: fighting, angst, yelling, accusations, swearing, crying, panic attack. JUST MOSTLY ANGST (lmk if i missed anything!)

───────────────────────────

It was the morning after the movie night. I woke up and realized that I wasn’t in my own bedroom, I was in Conrads. He might’ve carried me up here instead of my room. I tried to wake myself up so that I can get out of this room immediately.

I got out of the covers looking at the clock — it was already 11 in the morning so I went on and immediately walked to the door but as I open it I saw Belly — she was outside of Conrad’s room waiting — probably didn’t know that he was gone. She was surprised — shocked, betrayed seeing me there.

She looked at me, her brows furrowed. She chuckled sarcastically and scoffed, “Wow Y/N. Goodmorning to you, too.” she said, turning her back on me — running towards the stairs.

I panicked, she must’ve thought wrong “It’s not what it looks like Bells!” I yelled at her, trying to catch up to her. I messed up. I shouldn’t have let myself sleep on Conrad.

“Yeah?! that’s what they always say! You came out of Conrad’s room, Y/N!” Belly turned to me, she was at the end of the stairs — I saw Steven come in the view “Why were you in Conrad’s room? and where the fuck is Conrad?” Steven asked, looking at me — confused too.

I understand that she’s hurt, she probably felt betrayed. “I was in Conrad’s room but nothing happened! It’s not like that, will you just let me explain?!” I told Belly — walking down the stairs — we were in the living room now. She probably thought that I was a traitor. “You guys, why are you yelling? what is happening?” Mom asked, Susannah right behind her — her face filled with worry.

“I saw Y/N come out of Conrad’s room” Belly said looking down at her feet, crossing her arms. Jeremiah came into the view — walking towards me, standing by my side. “What do you mean you came out of his room? why were you there Y/N?” Mom looked at me, her brows furrowed.

“I woke up then I was just there, he might’ve carried me last night or something. I swear nothing else happened, Mom.” I told them, my face was still filled with worry. “Bullshit!” Belly yelled at me — she walked towards me and looked at me in the eyes.

“Belly, don’t scream at your sister like that!” Mom said, walking towards Belly — pulling her away from me before anything bad happens. I felt Susannah come up behind me — she held my hand guiding me away from Belly. “You know you could’ve just told me that you like Conrad. I can’t believe you Y/N, after me and Conrad kissed this is what you’re going to do? You know how much I like him!” Belly yelled again — still caught up on her emotions.

Steven was surprised, even Jeremiah “You and Conrad kissed? Since when?” Steven asked Belly, Belly looked at him — probably shocked about what she said, she didn’t mean to just blurt it all out. Her emotions took over her.

“On our date, we went to the beach after and that’s when we kissed” Belly looked at all of us, “So are you guys together?” Mom asked, smiling. It’s crazy how the mood just changed like that — like she wasn’t about to kill me earlier.

Belly smiled — trying to contain her giggle. “I guess so? Yeah?” Mom hugged her and said that it was great, Steven also smiled at her. “That’s good news, Bells. Just to clear everything, I don’t like Conrad. He’s all yours.” I told Belly, smiling at her gently. Not wanting to ruin this precious moment that they are having — I turned my back to them and walked towards the kitchen.

I acted like nothing happened — I sat down to eat my breakfast, I heard Susannah ask me “Hey, are you okay?” She said, she went beside me and rubbed my back. “Yeah, I’m happy for Belly. I’m glad that her and Conrad are together. I’m okay, Susannah.” I looked at her with a smile. She looked at me, her eyes filled with worry. “Are you happy because you’re happy or are you happy because your siblings are happy?”

I ask myself the same thing — am I truly happy because I am happy or am I just putting up a front for my siblings, for my mom. I really don’t know.

I looked at Susannah, I started to tear up. “I don’t know, Susannah. I don’t know If I am happy at all, whatever i’m doing is hurting me.” Susannah looked me, she put her hand on my cheek — caressing it. “Oh my special girl. Come here” she pulled me closer and hugged me.

“Thank you for always being here for me Susannah”

“Ofcourse, you’re my special girl” She smiled, her eyes gleamed.

“Promise me you won’t ever leave me” I looked up to her, smiling.

There was silence, it wasn’t an easy question to answer but still she said, “I’ll be by your side, forever. I promise” Susannah hugged me tighter.

I know that the future might do otherwise, thats what the fate is. Right now, I just want to enjoy and cherish my moments with Susannah. Cherish the moment of me being her special girl.

───────────────────────────

I was in the living room with Steven, we were playing a game that he pushed me to play because Conrad and Jeremiah wasn’t here so he made me play it with him.

“NOT THERE! there there there, NOOOO GO RIGHT, okay now go left” Steven yelled at me, determined to win. “OH MY FUCKING GOD, SHUT UP STEVEN! you’re stressing me out” I yelled back at him.

After awhile, we had a few rounds and there and then we tied. While Steven was in the kitchen getting some snacks for the both of us — I saw Laurel walking towards me, sitting beside me.

“So, what was that earlier?” Laurel asked — not looking at me, just looking at the screen. “What was what?” I asked, confused.

Laurel looked at me then turned to me. “That thing with Conrad, why were you in his room?”, I looked at her with my brow furrowed, “Mom I was just sleeping there. Remember last night? we were watching a movie? He probably went and carried me up to his room. That’s all, nothing else.” I explained to her.

“You know that him and Belly got something on right? they’re together now.”

“I know that, Mom”

“Then why did you sleep in his room? did something happen to you guys? you know you can tell me everythi-.”

“Mom! I just told you, nothing happened. I thought this conversation was over!” I groaned — she didn’t believe me, it’s like she wasn’t even listening to what I just said. Why was she acussing me of something I didn’t do? she knows that I can’t do this to Belly, I would never.

Mom turned herself away from me, leaning on the couch, “I don’t know why you’re acting so selfish right now. You know how much Belly likes Conrad. So please, don’t take this away from her” she said, crossing her arms.

My brows furrowed, shocked from what she just said, “Selfish? what do you mean selfish? how am I selfish when all I did was sleep in Conrad’s room? that wasn’t even my choice Mom! and I am not taking anything from her! She can have Conrad as much as she wants, I don’t fucking care!”

I yelled at her, frustrated. I didn’t even notice that I was already crying — I would never take anything away from my siblings, I care for them too much to do that.

“Don’t yell at me like that, Y/N. I am still your mother! I’m only saying this because I am worried about you and your sister. I don’t want you guys to fight about this! ” My mom yelled — hurt about how I answered her.

I scoffed, sure she was worried “Well I am sorry mom but… y-you’re hurting me right now. I can’t believe that you just called me selfish, after everything I’ve done? I-I’m sorry, this is too much for me.” I told her, I stood up from the couch then walked towards the door, as I was walking I saw Steven standing there in the kitchen looking at me, I looked back.

As he was about to walk towards me, I shook my head no then continued to walk out of the door. “God mom, you didn’t have to be so harsh to her. She’s going throught a lot of things too you know. She didn’t do anything wrong, you know yourself that she can’t do that to Belly.” Steven said.

“Steven stay out of this.”

“Well I’m sorry but they’re my sisters too, I care about them so I wont stay out of this.” Steven told my mom — mom just looked at him then stood up from the couch and then went back upstairs.

As I reached the beach, I felt my heart tighten. I felt my heart beat so fast — I couldn’t breathe, I just couldn’t. It was so hard for me, I was so hurt. I just saw myself sobbing, crying my emotions out.

How am I the selfish one when all I ever did was let Conrad have the choice, I decided to let him go for Belly. So why am I the selfish one? I was the one who got hurt — I was the one to let go of my feelings and prioritize other’s feelings first.

I tried to walk but it was hard, my knees were buckling. It was so hard to breathe, I need a second. I need to breathe.

“Y/N?” someone yelled. “P-please, just… just go.” I said, still struggling to breathe, tripping a little. I felt the person walk towards me

They grabbed my shoulder gently then they turned me — we were face to face now. I could see their eyes, it was a bit blurry but I immediately knew who it was.“You’re okay, you’re safe with me. Follow me yeah?” he instructed. He guided me to sit with him, we were kneeling in front of each other — face to face.

“Breathe in, breathe out. That’s good, there you go” he said as I followed his breathing. We did that for a minute until I calmed down. My heart was beating at a normal pace, I’m okay now.

He rubbed my back and pulled me closer. He sat down so that I can lean on him. I was now sitting between his legs — my back against his chest. “There you go, you’re okay. I’m here, you’re fine. No one’s gonna hurt you” he said, rubbing my shoulders. I felt myself fall asleep from exhaustion.

I felt safe, I felt secure. Today was exhausting, never expected that my day would end like this. I am just thankful that he’s there for me, because I wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t for him.

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taglist : @maybankslover @urmomisafinewoman @user3729107491 @melllinaa @anthgoldenhrry @arunabrak @amj2277 @whoisalexa @remuslupinwifee @gulphulp @layanderson @astrvalee @goldenmoonbeam @podiumprincess @johannelis2302nely @silcintilla @smw-96 @apollo3475 @drikawinchester @fangirl-kimora @sanjanapm

hi! i hope that you are enjoying this fic so far! sorry if it was just angst for this one, i just had to :> thank you for everyone that’s reading and loving my work !! i appreciate all of you :))

sorry if there wasnt any conrad or jeremiah here (or is there?? 👀) LOL

lmk if you guys want me to tag you on th next part !! also feel free to request anything :))

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sunshine-theseus · 1 year ago

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Fantastic Mr Fox | Aggie Beever-Jones x reader

Word Count: 2.1k Summary: she's a cute girl and has impeccable movie taste Warnings: injuries, nothing else really. guys i love fantastic mr fox and wes anderson films, i have since i was like 4, so i love this fic. Request for - @realsociadadferminofan

Finally joining a team after being in their academy was something so unnecessarily terrifying. Joining a team after being in their rival’s academy, was possibly 10x worse.

Joining Chelsea from the Arsenal W.F.C. Academy was somewhat of an ultimate act of treason. I got DMs from Arsenal fans insulting me and calling me a traitor, ‘you’re not good enough anyway’. DMs from Chelsea fans were predominantly kinder, but I did receive a few ‘you don’t deserve to be here’ messages.

I had been sent on loan to Chelsea last season, straight out of the academy, which had been more accepted because it was seen as something I didn’t have a choice in. Now that I had officially signed with the Blues? Life was harder than it should be. I’m not particularly close with anyone yet, not thinking I was going to be staying around long enough for them to matter, and I’m having to compete to even play because of the diverse skills and experience of our players.

I met Aggie on the first day of training. I wasn’t expecting the number of new players that had joined me in signing over the summer or after the World Cup, and it was severely intimidating.

The person I could claim to be the closest to, was Niamh, which in turn meant I was some-what friends with Jessie, but the roommates had yet to arrive by the time I walked into the locker room, searching for my locker and number which had now been changed due to the apparent must for Mia Fishel to be 2 if she signed. I think I cried about it the day I found out. I had been number 2 since I was 4, clumsily kicking a ball around on horrid grass under gloomy skies, and I was forced to just give it away.

“You’re not number 2?” an unknown voice perks up beside me as I plonk down at my new cubby, the number ‘32’ looming over my head.

I turn to my left, and see a rather well put together blond, lacing up her boots. A new face, but seemingly kind. I tilt my head to the side as she looks up, having not answered the question.

“Sorry, I’ve followed you for a while. You’re always 2, aren’t you? You were last season.”

“Oh… I had to um, give it up. Mia made it a requirement to be number 2 if she signed. Didn’t even give me an option.”

“That’s pretty unfair, it’s special to you. I’m Agnes by the way. Everyone calls me Aggie.” She reaches out her hand for me to shake, which I gently do.

“Like from Fantastic Mr Fox! I’m Y/N.” I smile softly at her as I lace up my own boots.

“You know Fantastic Mr Fox?”

“It’s the best movie ever!”

“Right?!” she then pauses.

“Hey, so I don’t really know anyone here… could I stick with you?” Aggie rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet as she asks the question.

“For sure! I’m not super close with anyone yet, well I’m sort of close with Niamh and Jessie, but I’d love to stick together.” I hop up from my seat and begin to walk along side Aggie as we approach the field, the meeting room seemingly deserted to instead focus on introduction games that tie to our warmup.

~~~~~

It takes a month for me to realise I have a crush on Aggie. Neither of us having anything to do during the October/November international break except train while ¾ of the squad were out, meant a lot of time pretty much one on one. I tell Niamh straight away, the girl having become somewhat of a big sister to me, and she laughs and tells me most of the team already figured.

“Emma loves pairing you up to watch you stumble and blush.”

“What the fuck?!” the call doesn’t last much longer, as Aggie comes to collect me for our gym session, in which I am a very poor spotter for the girl as I gawk and blush as she rolls up her sleeves and lifts the weights.

~~~~~

Now a month after that, I’m sitting out altogether due to spraining my calcaneal tendon in the Champions League game against Madrid.

“This fucking suucks. Fuck Athenea. We were going to play our first ever game at Stamford Bridge together” Aggie pouts, leaning of the fence as I hobble into the seats behind the subs bench, plopping down next to Millie and Guro.

“I know. You have to score for me pretty please. And do a knee slide and give a heart when you get it.” I gingerly smile at her, and she dramatically rolls her eyes.

“Your wish is my command princess.” She jokingly gives a bow.

My mouth gaps open and closed and I feel my face burn as it’s overcome by a deep shade of red. Aggie chuckles and says goodbye before she heads back to the locker room, getting ready to start the game.

“You are down so fucking bad.” Millie teases and Guro hums in agreement.

“Am not!”

“She called you princess and you malfunctioned. It’s like your brain shuts down. You should ask her out.”

“What?! No way! She does not like me back.” The captain and the Norwegian stare at me, blinking once as their mouths drop open, scarily in sync.

“Man, if you can’t see how much she likes you, there is no hope.” Guro chuckles and turns back to the game that’s about to start.

Aggie scores in the 23rd minute. A pass from LJ sets her up and she easily puts the ball in the net. And as promised, she smoothly slides on her knees, making a heart with her hands as she glides along. She moves to take her place as they set up to start again but stops briefly and points to me with a toothy grin. It’s a small gesture to show who the goal was for, and I make a little heart in return.

“Okay! I’m fucked! Millie what do I do?” I frantically turn to the girls next to me as the whistle blows, the game continuing.

“You have to sweet talk her and like offer her your jacket or something. Honestly, she already likes you so don’t change your personality. That’s important. You got that? No changing yourself.” Millie pokes my chest.

“Aye aye captain.” I solute her before Guro adds on.

“And when you ask her out on a date, make sure it’s something you’ll both actually enjoy. Like you both love that weird fox movie, so watch that together or something.”

“Fantastic Mr Fox is much more than ‘that weird fox movie’. It’s the pinnacle of film. Wes Anderson is a fucking genius.” Guro raises her hand in fake surrender.

“Sorry.”

“But you’re right, that is a great idea. W- when do I ask her?”

“After the game.” The two older women simultaneously stress that it’s imperative I do it soon.

We win 5-1, and I rush as quickly as one can with crutches, onto the pitch to congratulate the team. I hug Niamh and LJ, talk to Emma, meet pretty much everyone, before I get to Aggie. She stands off to the side, talking to Sam and Guro, the latter spotting me and pulling Sam away to talk to god knows where.

Aggie is conveniently missing a jacket, so as I approach her, I shed my own and hold it out to her.

“You’re going to freeze.” She refuses, but I push it toward her again.

“Aggie, you’re shivering, take the coat.” Her fingers graze gently against mine and my stomach swells, my breath hitches.

“Thanks.”

“Hey… would you, maybe, you can say no, like to, I don’t know-”

“Spit it out.” She nudges me and giggles.

“Do you want to go on a date?” I rush out, avoiding looking her in the eyes, fearful of her rejection.

It’s silent. Well Aggie is silent.

“Forget i-”

“Yes. I really would like to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. What did you have in mind?”

~~~~~

“Now I've already had too much to drink, and I'm feeling sentimental, but I'm going to say something anyway, which nobody wants to admit, but I think is probably true: we beat 'em.” I glance at Aggie out of the corner of my eye, and I catch her wiping away a tear.

“Are you crying?”

“Nuh uh.”

“I cry 90% of the time during this speech it’s ok.” My hand inches toward Aggie’s that rests between us.

“It’s not even inherently sad Y/n. I’m just a baby.” She pouts at me as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

I take her hand, slotting my fingers between her’s. I wait for her to retract but she squeezes my hand, running her thumb against the back of it. I then turn my head, my eyes meeting her’s. The hazy blue irises bore into my own, drawing me closer. My other hand lifts to hold her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” Aggie nods once and I lean in, our lips locking in a gentle kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” her warm breath hits my lips, our foreheads pressed together. I respond by kissing her again.

~~~~~

We walk into training together. Not an unusual sight. The only difference is the short kiss we share before I turn on my crutches to head to the physio to have a check-up on my ankle. I’m stopped as I reach the locker-room doorway.

“No fucking way! You did it!” Millie comes barrelling toward me, wrapping an arm loosely around my neck in a headlock and ruffling my hair with the other.

I hear Aggie laugh and I jokingly glare back at her.

“Yes I did. Thanks to you. And Guro giving me the date idea by dissing Fantastic Mr Fox.”

“Guro what?!” Aggie exclaims. I smile and bid her goodbye.

~~~~~

“YOU’RE BACK!” I stumble as I catch Aggie on my back, the girls around us smiling and giggling as Emma sends a playful glare.

“Miss me? I was only gone a week.” Emma quickly separates us into pairs for a training exercise.

“More like forever. Why does your extended family live in Glasgow?” She takes a hold of my hand as we wait to be given a ball.

“My abuelita loves you if that makes you feel any better. And she’s never met you. It took her months to warm up to my sister’s husband.”

“Mmm, that does make me feel better, but a kiss would definitely help.” She perks her lips and I lean on my tippy toes to press my lips to her’s.

“Get a room!” Niamh calls out from across the field and I blush, hiding my face in Aggie’s neck as she wraps an arm around me. Everyone laughs before Emma sternly tells us to focus.

~~~~~

The time is slowly running out, we’re tied 1-1 and I get subbed on for Sam, joining Aggie on the front line. The 20 or so seconds tick down on the big screen as I run down the pitch, chasing Aggie, calling for the ball. She takes a shot on the goal but I notice the ball veering off course and rush forward. I jump, head making contact with the ball and body making contact with the goalkeeper before I fall to the ground.

I hear the crowd cheer but don’t move. My head aches but pain radiates across my shoulder and down my back. The whistle doesn’t blow even as I cry out, only once the final seconds pass. I feel hands pat my head, assuming I’m just exhausted. I eventually hear Aggie’s distinct voice break through the rest of the noise.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP THE GAME? SHE DIDN’T GET UP SO YOU STOP THE GAME!” there are waves of outraged voices that echo around me, but I can’t do anything but cry and whisper Aggie’s name.

I begin to assess myself as I wait for someone, anyone, to come help. I can feel everything, but it hurts, I can move my fingers and my toes. My breathing is a little rough and my vision is blurred by my tears. I feel someone kneel beside me.

“Hey, hey I’m here are you ok?” I expect to hear my girlfriend’s voice but it’s Ann-Katrin.

“It all hurts. W- where’s Aggie.” I groan out as she strokes my hair out of my face.

“She’s coming. She was having a word with the ref. Asshole tried to card her. The medics and Emma are coming too.”

It takes forever to be assessed, and then I’m carried out on a backboard, Aggie holding my hand as we walk through the halls.

“Are you ok? Are you sure? Do you need anything?” She spits out question after question and I smile up at her.

“I’m okay, I’ve got you.”

“You really are a quote-unquote fantastic fox.” She grins at me and leans down to kiss my forehead.

“I want to quote Fantastic Mr Fox with you all the time.”

“You will. Once you fucking stop getting hurt.”

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #wsl #aggie beever jones #aggie beever-jones #aggie beever-jones x reader

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weasleycream · 5 months ago

Note

May I request Harry Potter x aunt reader

Y/N is James' sister and Severus' best friend. This sparks a fight between the siblings and they lose touch. Y/N marries Severus and becomes an auror with a reputation as a fierce hunter of Death Eaters. After a successful career that has brought her many scars and fame, she returns to Hogwarts as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry doesn't know he has an aunt, and Ron is curious why the teacher, who is nicknamed "Snape in a Skirt," is so nice to Harry. Voldemort then reveals to Harry that Y/N is his aunt and that he wants to kill her because she only causes him trouble

˃̵ᴗ˂̵ !! ( uyeueujg my first order 😭💗 ) Of course! I like the idea of James having a sister who marries Severus in the future, it sounds pretty interesting🤔. I will do my best to develop your idea to the letter, thank you very much for your request! I hope you like it <3.

ㅤㅤ୭.ᰍㅤ𝅄 ֹ " 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐭 " 🪽 Ⳋ

ઈઉ ݁ ㅤִㅤ𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 ; 𝐒everus 𝐒nape x 𝐅em!𝐀unt!𝐑eader

ઈઉ ݁ ㅤִㅤ𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; Use of bad words, mentions of death/blood/scars, family fights (between siblings), Bad grammar in English.

ઈઉ ݁ ㅤִㅤIn this OS Gilderoy Lockhart resigns as soon as the petrifications begin to occur

ઈઉ ݁ ㅤִㅤ𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 ; The Philosopher's Stone, The Chamber of Secrets

ઈઉ ݁ ㅤִㅤ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ; 3.2k+ (I still see it as too short, help💔)

ઈઉ ݁ ㅤִㅤ𝗨𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱.

Maybe for her brother being with someone like Severus Snape was something to consider himself a "traitor" and even more so since she was his little protégé and little twin sister. It was frustrating for him to see how the other half of him was best friends with his biggest enemy, to see how those two were inseparable.

It would not be a surprise to many, even James and his band of friends, to know that Severus no longer had eyes for Lily Evans (which James is partly grateful for) and now those looks of excitement and excitement are directed towards his sister Y/N Potter. Which sparked a loud dispute with The Marauders and Snape in the background, allowing them to hear all the twins' commotion.

"Merlin, James! Stop bothering me! Just because you're my brother and you ask me to end my friendship with him, I'm not going to do it, you understand!? I'm already tired of you interfering in my relationships just because you don't like them for nothing!" The feminine screams at her brother, who was in front of her red with rage and fury that had accumulated for a long time. “Accept it, James, Sev and I are never going to separate no matter how much you want us to, much less without one good reason."

"Do you want a reason? Fine! It's simple, I don't want you to be the same as that first-class idiot, who only knows how to follow Lily like her dog, it's not good for you to be with people like him"He snapped with anger in his voice as he looked into his sister's insistent eyes, clenching his fists at his sides causing his knuckles to quickly lose color and turn white.

Y/N, full of annoyance and disbelief, spoke: "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said in your life, James. I'm not going to separate from Sev because of that stupidity, he suits me, and much more than you if you ask me! He is "Much better than you in several ways! I like him! And I'm not going to allow you to keep giving me stupid numbers just because you don't like him!"

Severus, who was witnessing the arduous scene, froze in place upon hearing his friend's words. Apparently every attempt to eliminate every feeling he had for her, thinking that it was not reciprocated, was in vain. He, who was in a state of shock, could not allow himself to continue listening until she screamed again in fury.

"Fine! This ends here, James, if you don't like the idea of seeing me happy with the person I love and long for, then this is all over, ignore the fact that I am your sister and don't talk to me again, because I already see that "The only thing you're doing when you talk to me is hurt me!"

She snapped red with anger with tears threatening to come out of her ocean blue eyes. He turned around and began to walk with heavy steps, pushing Sirius with his shoulder as he went, taking Snape by the hand, beginning to leave that place without preventing the crystalline tears from starting to come out of his eyes as he was far enough away from him over there.

"Uhmm… Y/N… I'm so sorry for what just happened because of me with your brother… I really didn't mean to."He apologized sincerely making them both sit on the roots of a tree near the Black Lake. He wrapped the girl in her arms as soon as they sat down, beginning to caress her wavy, silky hair.

The girl began to shake due to the sobs of her sadness, soaking her friend's robe with salty tears, alerting the black-haired man who squeezed her tighter against him. "Don't apologize Sev… It's not your fault, it's his for not accepting that he is a selfish fucking idiot who should let me be happy with the person I love"

"Oh… Yes… About that… Do you really feel that way about me? I mean… It's exciting to know that I'm loved by the most beautiful girl there has ever been in all of Hogwarts.." He murmured softly. against his hair, lightly inhaling the girl's soft fruity aroma, and then feeling how she tensed a little and separated from him a little to look into his eyes.

The girl, who had already stopped shedding tears little by little, slowly blushed at her opponent's words. "Sev… I've been in love with you for a year… But I never wanted to tell you for fear that you would continue to love Lily…" she murmured, looking away from him, avoiding the embarrassment of the moment.

"Fuck Y/N… You don't know how much I wanted to tell you this for a long time… You know? Yes, I still love Lily." The brunette squirmed in her place, pursing her lips, avoiding saying anything while she narrowed her little eyes that longed to throw away. tears again at what was said. "But like… A friend?… Since I met you, some time later I discovered that Lily was just a crush since she was the first girl I met in my life… But then you came along and changed that… "And it wasn't just a crush… It's something true, and knowing that you feel the same is… Encouraging."

"Sev…" He whispered, looking up again, moving from his eyes to her lips slowly, getting a little closer, remaining a few centimeters from her face. The boy swallowed hard nervously while he did the same action as the girl in his arms, shortening the short distance, touching his lips in a very small but lasting kiss full of feelings.

"Y/N… Will you allow me to be the happiest man and be your boyfriend?…" He asked shyly cupping the brunette's small blushing cheek, cupping her face affectionately.

"Of course, Severus…" She responded by giving him another small kiss and then hugging him tightly again, sealing their love under that tree on the lake, without imagining what things his future would bring.

After long years without contact with her brother after that tedious fight, she married Severus some time ago after becoming a kind of Death Eater hunter, taking many of them behind the bars of Azkaban prisons. She knew that her husband did not like this work at all despite having been a Death Eater after graduating, he did not like at all that his smooth and soft skin had now become scratchy and calloused with scars due to the risk of his job.

Despite all this, he had to accept that there was good news in his life, such as the time he notified him that James and Lily had gotten married and had a child, he felt so happy for them that he had forgotten for a moment that he had already He had no contact with his brother, holding back every desire to want to go visit them and see his beloved nephew Harry.He knew very well in advance that after the birth of his nephew, his brother along with Lily had died at the hands of Voldemort and that Harry, being barely a baby, was able to survive the feared Adava Kedavra, making him a celebrity in the magical world, of course. This news devastated Y/N, who sought great comfort after her grief with her husband, trying to overcome the pain of her loss at all costs.

After the years, she wanted to leave her job as Aurora and started teaching at Hogwarts, she knew that her nephew was already there, she knew that Voldemort had returned for him and perhaps for her too, but still, she wanted to spend time with him, although for on the other hand, Severus, who quite renounced this decision, had no choice but to accept, understanding his beloved's desire to meet the only family he had left.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, surprising many when they saw how close she was to Severus Snape, making more than a smile and sigh from the 'most feared professor at Hogwarts', some even noticed the ring that both wore it on their ring finger, it being impossible not to notice the similarity of these, it was there that they nicknamed her 'Snape in a skirt', something that inevitably reached the ears of the great Harry Potter, who had noticed a great resemblance between him and her physically.

Harry even thought he was going to have another teacher with an attitude as scary as Snape's after Gilderoy ran away and 'Snape in a Skirt' arrived when he heard fourth year boys, like the Weasley twins, saying that the new teacher was very heavy and quite scary when you notice her scars on her arms, neck and face, but her surprise was great when it was time for Defenses Against the Dark Arts and the woman treated Harry as if he were her son, unlike the rest, They were treated as if they were in Potions class.

A week after Y/N's arrival, petrifications continued to occur at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which worried everyone greatly, even rumors reached the new teacher that Harry was 'The heir of Slytherin' being a Idiocy on the part of the students. She had already interacted with her nephew on several occasions without him even knowing that they were related to her, although talks about her with her group of friends were inevitable after he and Y/N finished talking.

"I still have a question… Do any of you know why they call him 'Snape in a Skirt'?" Harry questioned his friends, receiving a silent denial from Hermione, but a quick and boisterous nod from Ron.

"Of course! You're too lost not to have listened yet," she said as she looked at him with bored but emotion-filled eyes, receiving a 'I'm sorry' from Harry. "It's okay. Well, almost everyone says it's because of her attitude, everyone complains that she's like Snape but a woman, hence her nickname, although there are some who say it's because she's very close to the Potions professor and because ' "They share rings very similar to those of a marriage. But still, that doesn't take my mind off the fact that she's only nice to you, Harry." He explained making quotes with his fingers and emphasizing the 'share' and then looked forward again and prevented his bad luck from playing against him again and causing him to collide with someone again. or hit something.

Hermione snorted and spoke "Well, they're right in both situations, she has a very strong character and her scars speak for themselves… And about the ring, well… I never looked closely but you don't have to be very smart to see which are very similar in terms of design." This made Harry think extremely, remaining silent as he walked next to his friends who were once again fighting over some pointless thing. She had her suspicions about Snape for a year, and now he is involved with Slytherin because of his Parcel, and now with the arrival of that new teacher and her great physical resemblance and her strange change of mood with him, it was starting to be a headache for him.

That same night, Harry along with Ron and his former Defenses Against the Dark Arts teacher were able to discover the chamber of secrets by entering it, so that Harry continued advancing after one of the teacher's idiocies, he finally found himself with ' Tom Riddle' who after a short conversation mentioned something that left him disconcerted.

"Haven't I told you? Murdering impure people doesn't matter to me at all, for several months the ones I've been looking for are you and your aunt." This left Harry cold, it couldn't be possible that they were looking for his Aunt Petunia, she doesn't even have a drop of magical blood. "How is it possible that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent defeated the greatest wizard of all time? How could you escape with only a scar while all of her powers were nullified?"

"Why are you interested in how I escaped? Voldemort didn't live in your time… And why would you want to kill my Aunt Petunia, if she's a Muggle?" Harry asked quickly in response without backing down, regretting it for a moment when he noticed the abrupt change in 'Tom's expression and the tension was becoming more and more noticeable in that place.

Angry and angry 'Tom' responded: "Voldemort… It is my past, present and future…" He turned around and with his wand began what apparently seemed like writing in the air leaving the letters in his wake. of his full name, and after a movement he rearranged them, thus leaving the phrase 'I am Lord Voldemort' and spoke again. "And your aunt… I'm not talking about your pathetic, bony Dursley… I'm talking about Y/N… The sister of the famous James Potter, and the aunt of the great Harry Potter…Don't think I'm going to let her go, it's just a thorn in the side if she's alive… She has to die so she doesn't interfere with my plans anymore."

Faced with this revelation, Harry remained static and in shock in his place, despite all the dust and dirt on his face, you could see how his skin was turning pale little by little, and then he began to engage in a fight with the Basilisk afterwards. that Dumbledore's Phoenix arrived with a hat with a sword that appeared shortly after inside it, concluding with the bloody death of the enormous snake.

Harry, trying to put aside the fact that the Basilisk bit him with its poisoned bite, approached Ginny taking her hand listening to Voldemort's ramble, then took the diary and opened it and then took the tooth that he pulled out of the Basilisk and stabbed the blank page of the book, causing some kind of bloody textured ink to come out, receiving angry and desperate screams from Voldemort, he continued stabbing the book until 'Tom Riddle's' body was no longer there with them.

Hours after Harry and the others were able to leave thanks to the Phoenix and Harry and Ron spoke with Headmaster Dumbledore and had a small fight with Lucius Malfoy, before dinner in the great hall, he searched the entire castle for his teacher and aunt. , Y/N, finding her in one of the hallways that led to the dungeon halls.

"Professor Y/N! Can I talk to you for a moment, please?" She asked politely with a shy look and frown. "Is something important"

The one with ocean eyes turned around when she heard her nephew's voice, giving him a small smile. "Of course Harry! What do you need, little one?" She responded kindly as she looked into his eyes fondly.

"Well… As the director may have already told you… I was with Vold-…You-Know-Who" He interrupted himself, knowing that not many like the mention of that disgusting wizard's name. "Yesterday in the chamber… He told me something that was quite disconcerting… Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he tell me that you are my aunt?"

The woman just sighed and placed her hand on the boy's shoulder as she opened her eyes to speak. "You know, Harry? You're just as direct as your father was…" she murmured with a sad, nostalgic smile and a lost look before sighing lightly again. "I never told you because I never had the chance… I couldn't be there for you when you were little… And now that I got to see you here, I just didn't have the courage to tell you and have you face the fact that I'm a Terrible aunt for that…"

"Still, it's quite strong to know that I don't just have my Aunt Petunia as a family… I wish you had arrived earlier, you know? I had a horrible time at the Dursleys' house and with no place to go." go… And now I find out about this.."

"I know, little one… And believe me, I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry, Harry… I just… When I found out that James and Lily got married and had you, I just… I wanted to see them." …But I couldn't… I was still afraid of seeing your father after our fight and thinking that he could still hate me for that…" He paused when he noticed that his voice broke as he felt the knot in his throat, and then continued "I always wanted to meet you… And take care of you after what happened… But I never knew your whereabouts… I never knew… But you don't know how happy I am to know that you are here… Live, despite everything you've been through…"

The youngest just nodded with teary eyes and managed to rush towards her to hug her tightly, releasing all the pain and happiness he felt after he found out that that fearsome teacher was his aunt and that she always loved him.

They both arrived at the large dining room and the one with brown hair saw her beloved nephew in the distance with his friends talking, he turned around and saw her and then greeted her with his hand and a small smile and eyes of joy, he returned the greeting and smile. and then continued on her way with her husband to the teachers' table, where they sat together and he spoke.

"Apparently you already talked to Potter about that, dear," he whispered so that only she could hear as he took her hand under the table without anyone noticing, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, gently tracing the scar that adorned it with the finger.

The woman smiled warmly, leaning down to rest her head on her lover's shoulder, feeling how he tense up at the demonstration of affection in a public place, where it is not supposed to be known about their relationship.

"Well Mr. Snape, I had to do it at any moment, after all he is my nephew… I knew that despite what happened, he was going to accept me, after all, who wouldn't accept a beauty like me?" The woman joked as she looked into his eyes, separating herself a little with her smile remaining a few centimeters from her face.

The man who only looked at her tightened his grip on their clasped hands and murmured: "Well… You're right… It would be unforgivable just not to accept someone as beautiful and incredible as you, darling.." He said so that Then the woman approached again, leaving a soft short kiss on his lips and then kissing his cheek and the tip of his nose when they separated, surprising everyone who had decided to fix their eyes on the two at that moment, between those, Harry, who seemed like after that scene, just wanted the world to swallow him up and spit him out in Azkaban to erase all memory of that sight.

੭୧ ݂ Soooooo… What did you think? I'm not very good at this kind of things yet but I still hope you liked it ㅜㅅㅜ, especially to the person who requested it, regarding that, thank you very much for the request! I quite enjoyed doing this!🥹❤️‍🩹

—　˚ 🪦 ⌢　𝙏𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙢 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙮! <3

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sakascal · 4 months ago

Text

Have been meaning to do this for a while, so here it goes: A list of my AO3 stories. I'll update it when I release something new, and I'll even add a list of my Good Omens series in chronological order - because let's face it, it is all over the place chronologically but interconnected and should you wish to read it in order, it's not particularly easy right now.

Stories

These following stories are all from my Goodomentober series (so named because they are all written for prompts from a list posted last October - yes, I'm a slow writer ;) ).

So far these are the only stories I have, but more are coming. (One is already written and now in edit (for an event) and will post in November. I have two more in different planning stages. And a bunch more in planning for this series below.

Before We Became What We Are

Rated: T - 2 chapters - 6,989 words - status: complete

My first ever Good Omens story (and the first thing I had written in a few years altogether).

Pre-Fall. The first chapter is Aziraphale musing about that red-haired angel he'd met and has since not managed to meet again, though he wished. And then strange things are happening in Heaven.

The second chapter is mostly from pre-Fall Crowley's POV and deals with the Fall.

Excerpt

After Lucifer went down we others went down much quicker. A few at a time, the archangels were now only watching over the proceedings and let angels of a lower rank do the dirty work. Some seemed to get some kind of satisfaction out of it, others showed only stoicism. Some of us went over with a similarly calm face, others screamed and yet more cursed the angels as they fell. But still one after the other we were pulled toward the edge and thrown over.

I was terrified, of course I was terrified. But I would not let them see it. I could at least keep some semblance of pride. All I had ever done was ask questions and wonder why - and this was to be my punishment? So be it.

“Like this it will take forever,” I heard Micheal mumble. “You there,” she said as she turned to the guards. "Help the others get rid of the traitors.”

Oh no. Most of the guarding angels went immediately, always eager to follow orders. Aziraphale hesitated. Because of course he did.

“Surely, you want some of us to stand guard still?” he asked Micheal quietly.

“What for? All the traitors are right there and being dealt with. Get on with it!”

Like Twinkling Stars

Rated: T - 1 chapter - 3,040 words - status: complete

Post Season 2. Crowley is miserable, to say the least. It's been months since Aziraphale left for Heaven to become Archangel Supreme. Crowley is on the rooftop of the bookshop, drunk and drinking more, because what else is he supposed to do?

Mind the tags: this is hurt/comfort, so it's got a good ending (that leads directly into the last chapter of another story of this series).

Excerpt

“Ugh, damn it all to hell!” He lifted the stupid bottle to his mouth and gulped down the last of the liquor. When he dropped his arm again, he just let it fall to the side, not enough will left to do it properly. His hand hit the roof with a bit too much force. The bottle shattered in his right hand, spraying him and the rooftop with shards. The wetness he felt on his right palm probably meant he was bleeding but he didn’t care. He was spiralling, he knew he was, and he was helpless to stop it. His left hand came up to rub harshly over his face. Crowley decided that the moisture he felt there must be the soft drizzle that had begun to fall. Or possible splattered liquor. Or blood. Anything that wasn’t bloody pathetic.

Summoning Salvation

Rated: T - 7 chapters - 32,116 words - status: complete

It's been a few months since the world didn't end. Aziraphale and Crowley have begun to settle into a new normal. Then one day, a young woman enters Aziraphale's bookshop in some distress and with a dangerous request. Of course, Aziraphale can't let her go without helping her somehow. So now our ineffable idiots have to find out what happened and how to convince her not to go through with her plans, so the angel can save her.

Involves terrible planning and rash decisions, some actual talking! *gasp* But only a little, so don't worry. ;) Alcohol, fast driving, Aziraphale being bad with modern tech, a few injuries, half-snake Crowley, Crowley a bit less dressed than he usually appears, Crowley getting furious and Aziraphale actually being quite capable, thank you (at some things anyway).

Excerpt

“Oh, alright.” He cleared his throat. “That young woman was looking for a few books she hasn’t been able to find. She said she needs them for a paper she is writing.”

“Okay,” Crowley said, sprawling all over his couch. “Go on.”

“Her list was… unusual.”

“Must’ve been if she couldn’t find the titles anywhere else.”

Aziraphale sat up a little straighter. “My collection isn’t strange.”

“Never said it was, angel,” Crowley said with a huff. “But what would a student be looking for here that she couldn’t find in a library? You’re stalling. Get on with it.”

Aziraphale took the list back out of his pocket, straightened it out and handed it to Crowley. His eyes slid over to the window and he sighed. That perfect sunbeam to read in was long gone by now.

Crowley let out a whistle. “Yeah, alright. She’d get in trouble with these. Direct route to a miserable eternity, I’d say.”

“Uh-huh.” The angel nodded in agreement. He felt Crowley’s gaze again, it was even more intense than before. Still, he kept his face calm. Or what he thought must look calm. And continued looking outside. Then at his desk. And his vest. Oh, there was a button coming loose. He would have to remember to fix that later.

He heard a rustling. A glance confirmed that Crowley had sat up straight. “What did you do, angel?”

With Her as Our Witness

Rated: M - 8 chapters - 38,458 words - status: complete

The story of the Ineffable Idiots through moments in and around the Bentley. Or somehow related to the Bentley... It makes sense when you read it.

Also, the story of the Bentley and how she became what she is.

Starts off in 1933 and ends when Aziraphale returns from Heaven. Shows moments in their time together (and apart) and contains my first attempts at steamy scenes. (Hence the M rating.)

(Also @mielpetite has done art for this (thank you again!!))

Excerpt (from the 2021 chapter)

“You do.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes again and threw a puzzled expression Crowley’s way.

“Do what?”

“Eat, drink,” the demon said, pointing at him. “Dancsse.”

He was swaying with the music. “This isn’t dancing. Now the Gavotte–”

“‘s long dead, angel,” Crowley interrupted. He finished the last of the wine in his glass and put it away, before looking through the records Aziraphale had taken out.

Aziraphale sighed once more. “Shame. Took a dreadfully long time to learn. ‘n I w’s good!”

“Ssshame I never got to sssee,” Crowley said with a wink.

And there he went, blushing again. Dreadful demon, he always delighted in making him blush. Aziraphale didn’t like blushing - what an utterly useless reaction for the human body to have. But he did like seeing Crowley enjoy himself. A daunting dilemma, that.

The Darkest Moment

Rated: T - 1 chapter - 3,163 words - status: complete

It's 2019, Aziraphale and Crowley just made it through the apocalypse and their subsequent trials. Freedom - for now. But there are still some open questions, at least for Crowley.

Despite the title, this actually contains a lot of fluff and banter.

Excerpt

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked in return, and lifted his glass to take a sip from his wine - a wonderful Château Lafite-Rothschild he had acquired around 40 years ago and kept for a special occasion. The world not ending and their respective head offices - former head offices now - not succeeding in destroying them and them subsequently brokering their freedom must count as a most special occasion.

Crowley was seated in his usual spot on the sofa - if one felt gracious enough to call whatever it was the demon did with furniture ‘being seated’ - and waved the hand holding his own glass around at their surroundings.

When Aziraphale only blinked in confusion, he added: “The bookshop.”

Well, that certainly clarified nothing. Granted, they had been drinking off and on for most of the day since lunch, and he wasn’t quite what you’d call sober. But he liked to believe that he wasn’t plastered enough for his faculties to have left him entirely. So he should have been able to understand the question if Crowley hadn’t been quite so vague. Clearly.

“What about the bookshop?”

“How did it happen?”

“Just repeating it isn’t going to make me understand your question any more, Crowley. How did what happen?”

A frustrated growl. “You can’t possibly–!” Crowley took a deep breath, a hefty sip from his own glass, and tried once more in a calmer voice. “How did it burn down?”

Purge

Rated: T - 1 chapter - 2,905 words - status: complete

Everything is finally well, another apocalypse has been prevented (somehow), and they don't have to worry about Heaven and Hell any more. Aziraphale is back in his bookshop, that had been under Muriel's care all this time, but that leaves him (and by extension Crowley, much to his dismay) with a lot to do. Then Crowley comes across some stuff Aziraphale meant to put away (hoard) in case it might be needed again.

Excerpt

“‘Cause I’m about ready to throw some of your beloved Shakespeare out of the window and call a tempest down on it.” Which would only be fitting, really.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Stop me then,” he called out with a mischievous grin. Oh, how he liked teasing Aziraphale. And it had only become more enjoyable since his return from Heaven.

“Patience, dear.”

“Still a demon. As I recall telling you not too long ago, patience is a virtue. Demons are not known to be virtuous.”

An overly dramatic, exasperated sigh that was loud enough to be heard all the way down here was his answer. Crowley grinned.

“Yes, yes, I’m already on my way down.”

All Love's Luxuries

Rated: E - 1 chapter - 17,881 words - status: complete

Aziraphale is back from Heaven, and they had finally had a good talk. And made out in the Bentley. But the Bentley really isn't the place for a good first time, especially not when you've been waiting for thousands of years and - okay, so Crowley would have been fine with the Bentley. But Aziraphale wants to go somewhere more comfortable, and if there is one thing Crowley always tries to do, it's to give Aziraphale whatever he wants.

Excerpt

“Not here.” Crowley snorted and grabbed Aziraphale by the waistband, pulling him along. “Come with me.”

He led him through the plant room and took a left to his bedroom.

“Glass wall? Where is the door?” came the incredulous voice from behind.

“It’s stylish, angel.”

“It’s also very… open.”

“We made out in the Bentley.” He chuckled as he pulled Aziraphale to stand at the foot of the bed. “Bit late for this now. And there’s no one here but us.”

“The plants are here.”

“Sit.” Crowley lifted an eyebrow in disbelief and pushed Aziraphale to sit down. “The plants can’t see.”

“They can hear.”

“As can the Bentley,” he said with a huff, and pushed Aziraphale’s legs apart with his foot. “As I remember, we were making some quite lewd noises earlier.”

Oh, this time he could watch the blush spread down his chest. How adorable. And hot. And yet he knew that the smile that was spreading over his face - against his wish - was nothing but adoring.

He held Aziraphale’s face gently in his hands and placed a soft kiss on those stunned lips.

“Look, I’m sure she didn’t care. Didn’t she try to encourage us to continue? And the plants are used to all kinds of noises from me,” he told the angel pointedly.

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked around as if he was only properly seeing the bedroom now. Crowley watched with interest as his fingers slid over his sheets, feeling them. “You have– uh, in here?”

“Just this morning.” Crowley sank to his knees and winked at his angel. “Thinking of you.”

Chronological List

Since my Goodomentober series is all interconnected and a bit difficult to read in chronological order, here is a list. (Will be updated as I post more, of course.)

Before We Became What We Are

With Her as Our Witness - Chapters '1933', '1941', '1967', '2008', '2019'

The Darkest Moment

Summoning Salvation

With Her as Our Witness - Chapters '2021', '2023'

Like Twinkling Stars

With Her as Our Witness - Chapter 'Now'

All Love's Luxuries

Purge

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable idiots #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 6 months ago

Text

Pillars of salt, Pillars of sand: Dark!Aemond x oc, Aegonxoc

Chapter 15: The shadow of a sun mdni18+

🔷Summary: You are Rhaenyra and harwins daughter, Jace's twin sister. You dont expect when Floris, your best friend, writes you that she is sick, to find your uncle at Storm's end. He offers you a choice. Bend the knee to Aegon or see your brother be fed to his dragon. It is not a difficult choice to make. But as with difficult choices, the consequences are much harder to carry than the choice

🔷Author's note: DARK dead DOVE DO NOT EAT OK

Wordcount :3212

Aemond’s pov.

I stand near the tavern, where Helaena and Maella are drinking. Judging by their giggles, hushed whispers, and delighted gasps, they are likely gossiping. I simply fold my hands on my back and watch as the soldiers that belong to the King surround the place, subtly as shadows sneaking around a lamp. ‘’Since when do they get along?’’ Aegon remarks, surprised by the young Queen and the Princess being friends.

I suppose that the enemy of their enemy is my friend is true, after all. They might hate each other, or at least, were raised to hate one another. And now because they are both married to my useless brother, they have become something dangerous. I expected Maella to outshine Helaena at balls, receptions and gatherings. But I never expected them to ally with one another, to become friends. Never.

It is dangerous. What if Helaena is turned over to their side? She never liked Aegon, I can’t even tell if she likes being Queen. She is as flicke as a flame and that can burn us. But if Helaena can be convinced, so can Maella. This might be good. We can show the Little strong lady that she has nothing to fear from us. As long as she complies and obeys, that is.

I still can’t believe it. They are as fire and ice. Helaena should know better, as the Queen. Maella is a good for nothing traitor and our prisoner. What does she hope to accomplish with drinking a few beers in a godforsaken tavern? ‘’I don’t know. I do think you should do something about this, Your Grace.’’ I say, after carefully choosing my words.

Aegon’s shoulders slump with disappointment at my reminder and he looks to the stone tiles outside the tavern that cover the dirty ground. He took me to this tavern too, I remember. On my thirteenth name day. Before he would take me to the whores. Ser Arryk whispers to us that they have secured the property and I give a nod, confirming they can begin soon with securing the two ladies. ‘’You took a vow.��’ I remind my brother. ‘’If you are too weak to discipline your own wife-’’

I know I crossed a line when Aegon’s worryless glance becomes a hateful, deep festering glare forming a mirror. I see my own father looking back at me, in a way. Aegon smirks, mirroring my stance by also folding his hands on his back, advancing on me until I have no choice but to set a step back, submitting to him. ‘’You would like that, wouldn’t you, Aemond? Because if I can’t, you will do it.’’ He says, and yes it is the truth. There is an accusation there. One I’m not sure that I like.

I open my mouth, ready to defend myself and my honour as I hear a all to familiar scream, that sets my soul alight and hardens parts of my body much to my delight. Maella screams as she is carried to me and my brother, her eyes widened the moment she sees us standing near her. She takes a dramatic moment to scoff, and spits at our feet. Aegon shrugs as I jump out of the way, barely avoiding the spit hitting my boots. ‘’Discipline her.’’ I hiss, commanding my own king around.

She struggles as a wild tigress, attacking her pursuers as I simply watch her lash out, cuss, spit and yell, causing a scene well worthy of good punishment. ‘’You are disgusting animals! All of you! You fucking traitors! You would sell your own mother if it allowed you to suck Aegon’s little right toe!’’ Maella yells as she attacks a soldier, pulling his helmet off and grabbing him by the throat. I hide an amused chuckle. Aegon becomes increasingly frustrated as her scene continues, clearly tired, miserable and dreading what he must do now.

Helaena watches, her eyes big and full of questions. ‘’Put her down! We did nothing wrong!’’ She tries to command the soldiers, but they are not her soldiers. They are Aegon’s. They won’t listen to her. ‘’Aegon, tell them to stop!’’ She is close to losing it. I remember it all too well from balls and gatherings we attended.

Maella laughs, still on the back of Arryk who tries to hold her as she kicks away at his back. I think Arryk has never been more thankful for his armour. ‘’He won’t. He’s a little craven boy, same as his brother. He is not cut out to be king. His mother knows it. His brother knows it too.’’ She briefly looks at me, and when she does I can’t help but lick my lips softly, imagining her taste. ‘’All except Aegon, for he knows nothing and never shall.’’ I need to hide my smirk for I agree with her all too much.

My brother sets one foot forward, and the brat finally stops fighting, accepting her fate. She knows what awaits her now. Helaena tries to interfere, so I capture her too, holding her gently but firmly by her waist so she shall not be harmed. ‘’Aemond! Let me go!’’ She begs. ‘’We can’t let Aegon hurt her.’’ Why not? She and her bastard brothers hurt me. Dozens of times over. If anything, Maella might learn obedience and respect for her betters with a good smack across her oh so pouty delicious face.

Helaena does not understand that so I explain it to her, as kindly as I can. ‘’He’s her king and her husband. She is the one who went too far.’’ Helaena stops fighting me and looks at me with a all too familiar emotion. Disgust. She easily escapes me, not looking back once.

Aegon is close to hurting Maella, I can tell. But he needs a tiny push. And I know how to let Maella give him that. I search my pockets, and take out a familiar small box. I join Aegon, presenting the box to Maella as I open it. ‘’Did you know your brother pissed himself?’’ I smirk, recalling the moment I had Luc’s eyes cut out. ‘’I didn’t expect much better from a bastard, but it was disgusting how he relieved himself in front of the Baratheon family. He was begging me too, begging for me to stop, to have mercy, to be released.’’ I laugh, recalling the little scared face of little Luc as he sobbed at my feet, before I kicked him in his then empty bleeding eyeholes. Maella trembles with barely contained rage.

I bet she can show me so much of her innerfire, of her desire if only she allowed herself. I bet she can become the most beautiful obedient wife. If only Aegon didn’t marry her. I lean in closer. I smell her delicious scent and must fight all instincts to touch and smell her closer. Maella glares at both of us, but I know she must have one final push. A good one. So I open the box, show her Lucerys’s eyes and take them out, touching the small little balls as if it are mere diamonds. I chuckle, as she watches my every moment, her breath holds. I close the box with a snap, causing her to flinch.

I take one step closer, and touch her face, gently caressing it as I stare into her eyes. ‘’It’s too bad your mother had a stillborn daughter. I would’ve loved to collect her eyes too.’’ Maella’s gaze shifts between me and Aegon. Her eyes express many emotions, despair, disbelief and finally…Guilt.

She knew, Rhaenyra was pregnant. And now she knows she is not anymore. Aegon shoots me a subtle glare, one of judgement and disgust as I watch Maella struggle with another challenge, another loss.

I smirk, whispering in her ear. ‘’Your mother’s pregnancy was fine, until she heard what had happened to you and Luc. I might have killed your brother, but you killed your sister. You caused that miscarriage and you are a Kinslayer.’’ I brush gently with my lips against her ear, kissing her forehead. ‘’You are the same as me-’’

Maella does not need long after that final push, that final confession and final straw. Aegon needs to push me out of the way of her claws, that are reaching to strangle something, anything. ‘’You bastard!’’ She yells, sobbing and in tears as she tries to strangle me, held back by guards as I walk back and forth, just within her grasp.

I shrug, causing more anger by the young princess. ‘’Only one of us is, little Lady Strong. I think you might need to rethink your loyalties. I doubt Rhaenyra will welcome you home now, that you killed her daughter, her true born Valyrian daughter with Daemon.’’ I rub some extra salt in the wounds, picking up insults and horrors wherever I go. Rhaenyra needed a heir, a pure born Valyrian child. And Maella will never be that. She will always be a Strong. She will never be good enough. And she knows this. And that is what will kill her.

Maella kicks her guard, and rushes at me. She grabs me by my silver long hairs, dragging our faces closer as she tries to choke me. It is a foolish but admirable attempt. And one we just needed.

Aegon grabs her by the throat, strangles her briefly and smacks her across her face with his left hand, leaving a good, nice print on her face. Maella wails on the ground, glaring at us both. He approaches her again, and raises his feet too, preparing to give her a kick. ‘’My King?’’ Ser Arryk ruins this beautiful moment and I glare at him, annoyed he dared to speak in our presence at all.

Sadly, Aegon puts his feet back on the ground and ignores Maella as she cries helplessly. ‘’Put the Princess in the carriage. She can’t behave herself clearly. Bring her to my bedchamber after.’’ I feel my blood cool down after those words, and I can’t even smirk at Maella.

Maella has stopped crying instantly at those words, her whole body shaking as Arryk grabs her and walks her to the carriage. ‘’Aegon! No! You can’t! I disgust you! You never liked me!’’ Her cries are muffled once she is put in the carriage. Aegon sighs, and for a moment the crown slips. He adjusts it right away.

‘’So, brother.’’ I begin this terrible conversation. Because she should not be his. She is mine. I captured her, I can read her, I can trick her, deceive her, lie to her and kill her.

Aegon sighs, dramatically. ‘’That should be enough to make her behave for one day. I don’t intend to actually lay with her.’’ I hear myself scoff. Of course not. Whyever would he do anything for his duties, for us? Ruining Maella, forcing her to have his child, it’s the best thing to do right now, the clever thing. And he won’t do it because Maella is not some blonde ugly whore.

I hate it. I hate him, I hate her, I hate the idea of them together, of them even breathing the same air. ‘’Whyever not? She is yours, brother. She is yours and for once in your life you are allowed to do what you enjoy doing.’’ I say, referring to the countless incidents.

Aegon does not meet my eye and his voice is soft as the wind as we prepare our horses. ‘’I don’t enjoy it.’’ He confesses. ‘’I never did. I just …’’

I wait ready to hear whatever explanation his sickening behaviour has.

Aegon sighs, rubbing his face. ‘’Father never saw me as his heir. Mother never saw me as anything but a problem. I guess that’s exactly who I became. An unworthy problematic heir.’’ I need to stop myself from laughing. Is he truly trying to push this all on that mother and father didn’t love him enough? That’s why he rapes?

‘’And the women?’’ I remark. ‘’How did they hate you, how did they wrong you? How did a simple kitchen maid or a servant girl hurt you, the Prince who surely they all looked up to?’’ I hear myself say the words and as soon as I say them I know.

It’s not the love that was the issue. It’s the expectations. The expectations that he sets for himself, that the world and father set for him that he never met. And the servants were just unfortunately there at the wrong time and at the wrong place. Because there is no such thing viler than forcing yourself upon servants, people who you love.

He becomes annoyed with me and my questions. ‘’I am done talking about this. If you want to talk about sexual things, I can ask you about why you fantasise about my wife and how you wanted to do similar things to her.’’ He’s right. And I hate that he is.

But Maella is not an innocent kitchen maid or servant who can’t defend herself. ‘’Your wife is no innocent woman.’’ I say, with a smile as we get on the horses. ‘’You know she is a traitor and she must be eliminated so she cannot marry great houses. It’s why her virtue must be taken away.’’

I hear my brother laugh. I look at him. He shakes his head. ‘’And I used to think you were so much better than me. You are not. You might be worse.’’ After that he leaves for the Red Keep and I remain here with the carriage and the two unwanted Queens. And a lot of questions, and thoughts.

Maella is crying still as I enter the carriage. She glares at me through her tears. I smirk, sitting next to her. She instantly decides to sit somewhere else, as far away from me as possible. I think back of her offer, where she begged me to save her and to take her to her sweet mother. She is truly a naive girl who has no idea how the world truly works. ‘’You know, you only did this to yourself.’’ I say. ‘’By choosing the traitor queen, you became a traitor.’’

Maella does not see reason.

‘’She is crowned.’’ So is Aegon. ‘’I suppose you will enjoy tonight?’’ She can barely talk without sobbing. She could not be further from the truth.

I shake my head. ‘’No, I won’t. I still firmly believe you should be with me.’’ I inform her as she rolls her eyes. ‘’As I am the-’’

She interrupts me. ‘’The one who captured me, yes.’’ She finishes with an annoyed sigh. ‘’Honestly, Uncle, it has gotten boring to hear you boast about your own pathetic accomplishments. You killed a little innocent boy and captured an innocent woman. Is that truly something to be proud of?’’

In one moment she is pushed against the walls of the carriage, my hands wrapped around her throat as I choke lightly, just to scare her. Perhaps to feel control over her life, over her body. ‘’He. Was. not. Innocent.’’ I hiss, warning her of my temper. ‘’He took my eye, had your mother done her task and disciplined him, I would have had peace with it!’’ I shout at her face as she flinches with fear and worry. She looks like she wants to call for the guards. She looks like she might bite me. As if she can laugh or cry any given moment. I wait for her to defend that bastard pup to ramble on how he was just a child. I wait for any of it.

Maella only slowly touches my hair, feeling it glide through her fingers. Her eyes sparkle with tears as she softly chuckles. ‘’I sometimes wonder what would have happened, had Grandsire married us. Would we have hated each other as much as we do now?’’ I am taken back by her movements and keep watching her carefully as she continues to touch my hair. ‘’Would Luc be alive? Would there be peace?’’ She wonders out loud, her hands finally end by my face, and her fingers touch my scars as I flinch slightly. Yet I do not pull away. There would not be peace. There would be hatred just the same. I know it. But my weak heart allows itself to be caught up in her sickening twisted fantasies of something I shall never acquire: A happy life. ‘’You are my brother’s.’’ I say, firmly. ‘’You must learn to obey his wishes and his word or there might be more.’’ I caress where Aegon struck her, warning her. ‘’He is kind now, but once he tires of you-’’ My words are interrupted as Maella places her lips against my own, and softly gasps, kissing me. Her hands touch my knees and I feel them at the same time on the back of my head, removing my eyepatch as she climbs on my lap, her eyes shimmering with tears. ‘’Why?’’ I whisper. ‘’You hate me.’’ I don’t understand it. Yet Maella continues to kiss me and to touch me in ways I only dreamt of. I should be happy, welcoming this opportunity. But I am not, and I do not welcome it. I pretend to be aboard, kissing her back.

Maella allows herself to touch me, running her fingers over my crotch as I slip with my greedy fingers under her dress, touching and feeling her breasts and nipples, discovering her body. She shifts on the bench of the carriage, allowing me to top her properly. I remain standing as is proper, but she sweeps my legs and forces me atop of her. She lowers her eyes, touching my face gently. ‘’I told you before: We can run away together. Mother will reward you. You will become a hero.’’ She whispers and kisses me. I don’t kiss her back. I feel validated. I feel attacked, wronged, disgusted. I slap her hands off my crotch, and yank her head up by her hair so we can meet eye to eye. I see hope in her eyes. And I see it die when I scowl at her. ‘’You will lay with Aegon and no one else. You will carry his seed and your womb will quicken and you will push his child out.’’ I hiss as I push her against the walls of the carriage. Maella whimpers hurt at my rejection. I don’t care.

I slam the carriage door behind me and I don’t pay her any mind anymore. She can weep, scream and whimper all she likes: I will not betray my family. I get on my horse and sigh deeply. I imagine Aegon will enjoy himself. He will enjoy having her. I would've enjoyed having her. But at what cost? I know what she wants. She wants to go home. She does not care if she has to fuck the man who killed her brother to do it.

And my brother does not care either. He will always be unworthy of the throne. He will always avoid duty, and sacrfice. He will always be the weakest of us two. And me? I will always be doomed to remain in his shadow, the shadow of a sun.

OOP ITS A UPDATE xD

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #Aemondsmut

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kommandonuovidiavoli · 5 months ago

Note

What are the relationships between the teens and their new little sibs in the teen au? And what is wittle rachel like? I love her

The kids all have their canon in-show age, they're not babies or such. And they have the same roles of the show. The only different thing is little siblings being teens now!

As for the relationships, I talked about them a bit in the original post, but let me elaborate a bit on some things:

Harvey is an insufferable teenager. He screams at Rachel, doesn't want her around, sometimes she might just be walking and he would start screaming out of nowhere. Rachel hates it but doesn't have the heart to ask to decommission him, since he managed to arrive into the TND (yes, she knows about TND since she's soopreme leader, and knows everyone in it). Also because he threatens to go to Father's side if she does, so she's afraid of him. This changes a bit her character, as in she's a bit cold and doesn't like to talk about family. Nigel will be the first one she's gonna open with and ask for help. Yes, not advice, but HELP.

Joey tries his best to be a good big brother, but since he joined KND, Wally has become very antagonistic with him; he doesn't want him around avoids him, and believes Joey is an enemy who wants to steal secrets. Which... is not true. They used to be very close, they played together, and did a lot of things, Wally wouldn't sometimes move a step if he wasn't around. That's why Joey is really heartbroken that now he believes he would ever betray him, but... He can't say anything. He just needs to act as if that's ok and nothing is wrong. One day Wally will understand that not all teenagers are bad and he can still trust his big bro.

On the other hand, Hoagie would do ANYTHING to pass time with Tommy and learn all his secrets. The kid sees him as the coolest person alive, the reason he joined KND in first place! Tommy used to be very close with Hoagie, played with him, made him laugh, and they would build stuff together! Then Tommy turned 13 and got "decommissioned", and everything ended. Hoagie is sure he will find a way to recommission him so they can play again! Tommy is a bit sad, but he needs to keep Hoagie away so he doesn't find out he is a TND operative who also infiltrates the Teen Ninja lines to get pieces of information. But things will go down when Hoagie finds out he and Cree are dating... Oh no...

Mushi and Kuki seem to be the closest! Even if they are different ages, Mushi gladly spends time with Kuki, playing and dancing and having fun! She also gifted Kuki a special Rainbow Monkey Kuki keeps always around! But since then, Sector V somehow has had difficulty keeping their plans a secret from adults. But Mushi is just too good to be a traitor... Right? Well... She works for Father. She's not a Teen Ninja, she's a Teen Samurai, a different kind of warrior who works closer to Father's side. Almost like Father's second. They sometimes can order Teen Ninjas around. Somehow, she and Tommy haven't found out about the other being a spy for different sides, but still, they can't stand each other... Curious!

Penny is still just a babysitter for Nigel, but he adores her to the point he will go to the beach if she wants to!! No, he doesn't like her, he likes Lizzie! Mmh... Strange... She and Lizzie appeared almost at the same time...

#age swap au #age swap au q&a #knd #kids next door #nigel uno #hoagie gilligan #kuki sanban #wallabee beetles #penelope doe #tommy gilligan #mushi sanban #joey beetles

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redundantharpoons · 1 year ago

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larian plz

Apparently Minthara's VA has been in the studio again for some after-release recording, so I'm just going to go ahead and drop the headcanon I came up with during EA for "good playthrough but you get to keep Minthara" here just in case . . .

I feel like if you side with the tieflings during the grove event but toggle on non-lethal damage to knock Minthara out rather than kill her, the after-battle scenes should include one where you find that they have captured Minthara and she's basically bedraggled in a cage, fully restrained with shackles and such. In just a really pitiable, pathetic situation but she keeps her chin up and her jaw clenched, too proud to be broken even in this situation. And perhaps, just perhaps, her faith gives her confidence that The Absolute has planned this.

When she sees you walk through the camp and everyone thanking and cheering you, maybe she pushes into your mind with the worm, maybe not. I think only if you're drow or depending on dialogue choices before to make her think if you can be easily turned back or not. But I think for most people she's written you off as an infidel and traitor to the absolute and other than a glare she doesn't acknowledge you at all.

While talking to Halsin, or Zevlor, or someone "in charge," you are being thanked for all you did for the grove and tieflings, and they express that they are in your debt, ask if there's anything they can do for you despite having so little, etc. And you should be able to choose "I'll take the drow prisoner off your hands."

Depending on who is with you, most of your party members are going to be disapproving/wary, but you can (and this is true, it should be an option later in the game) say you will use her as leverage or a bargaining chip in Moonrise or otherwise when dealing with the Absolute, or acknowledge that her insider knowledge of what's going on would make her a valuable prisoner to keep nearby.

If she overhears you asking for her as your "reward," she might push in now, but I still don't think she does, she just watches, appraisingly. (Or, perhaps depending on your dialogue choices this was all her orchestration via the mind worm; that she reached out to you when she saw you and assured you that The Absolute is not done with you, and that she brought you together and spared you both for a greater purpose, and you must free her so you can return to Moonrise together, as The Absolute clearly intends!)

The druids and tieflings are clearly uncomfortable with the idea of letting such a dangerous prisoner out of their hands; odds are they intended to kill her after a while (they were letting people throw food and stuff at her through the cage for a while as catharsis :( ) and so the idea of her possibly escaping or being set free by you later doesn't feel good. But you can convince/intimidate them over how much you've done for them, how you are clearly the more capable group to look over her since you had to look over them too, etc. Eventually they acquiesce, and there's a prisoner handoff scene, some banter with the party members about how you better know what you're doing.

And in my headcanon there's tons more content that gets very sexy in the times after that once you have Minthara in your camp as somewhat of a prisoner-in-tow (lots of her pushing into your brain and . . . showing you things, making you feel things 👀 with you second-guessing if she's actually into you or just manipulating you for her freedom), but suffice it to say from there the various game experiences maybe allow her to warm up to your party or your party to warm up to her . . . or maybe not and you just trade her away to slavers or kill her or whatever. But I always felt that was a pretty simple way to allow you to spare the tieflings and recruit Minthara, and I'm sad it's not in the game.

#bg3 #minthara #minthara baenre #baldurs gate 3

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mikaikaika · 1 year ago

Note

Hello I've seen you around the QSMP spaces a lot, but I'm curious!! Do you have any cool headcanons you wanna share?

Hey anon! Thanks for the question and sorry if it took me a while I was recollecting my thoughts. I don't have any set hcs but a few thought sparced around here and there so here they are. They are mostly about the eggs but some people found their way in

Tallulah has all of Wilbur's letters memorised and she repeats them when she finds herself in danger. However sometimes Chayanne hears her muttering in her sleep and if he pays attention he can hear the repeat of Wilbur's words.

Richarlyson does not like to take baths due to his parenthood side that comes from Catboy Cellbit

Flippa and Tilin were very clumsy and often got injured so they had a bet going on with each other about who can convincingly tell their parent the most batshit crazy getting injured story without worrying them too much. Their record was never broken despite their exaggerated shenanigans

Missa was the better chef of the house who used to make diverse meals. Seeing him Chayanne took up cooking because he wanted to help after he saw how exhausted Phil was while taking care of two kids. It now helps him make proper use of all the potatoes and now he has one more skill he can use to provide for his loved ones incase they are stuck in danger

Not mine but someone had a hc that Antoine is an alien due to his moon and the tomska sketch he was a part of. I just wanna add to it that that is the reason his mc skin is layered with an outer layer. So it is him trying to imitate huamans and trying to fit in. That's the reason he has like three faces cause he wanted to fit in by doing his best attempts possible

Since Phil said they shop at hot topic cause they're a emo family, I think Tallulah hates it, so as a little sign of rebellion she keeps choosing tshirts with the most ridiculous captions to take home like one that says "crazy plant lady" with weed on it but Tallulah insists it represents her venues or anything over the top pink that she can find there like I'm talking mable pines level fluffy

Dapper is really good at doing rubix cubes and loves them but Ramon absolutely hates due to how engrossed Dapper got when he was learning it

As Chayanne grows up he end up outgrowing his duck floatie. So he ,with the help of Ramon and dapper, devises a belt with a duck belt buckle on it that can turn into a floatie anytime it is required. It comes in handy more often than you think.

Baghera is deathly afraid of snakes cause she's a duck

Cellbit's family are his anchor anytime his past comes haunting him back. He often gets nightmares that wake him up but all it takes is him seeing the picture of Richarlyson with he Favela Five or turning to his side and seeing the face of his sleeping husband and with one squeeze of his hand - Cellbit comes grounded back to reality and peacefulness.

When he's outside and people are accusing him of being a traitor or when things get too rough, you would often find Cellbit toying with his ring. It serves him as a reminder that his past is behind him and now he's in a better place and no matter what he would always have someone looking out and waiting for him - something he has never had before

The dragon colours that the eggs would be turned into coincides with the signs they use. Flippa's would be green similar to what gegg uses, Bobby's was brownish since he used normal signs, Tilin's would be slight orange as hers was red but she passed hers down to Pomme and Trump is light blue since his was blue but he passed it down to Richarlyson as Richas is more socially "loud" than he is

If Tilin and Juanaflippa were still here, their name together with Tallulah would have been TFT trio

Pac paints his nail but it's always chipped due to him working with Mike but you would never see it completely gone and no one knows how/when Pac reapplies and redamages it

Also I love this hc that all the partners of the people on the server are some kind of godly entity with specific powers that tie into the story

#These are just random thoughts I've had #I hope that's what you meant #There's prob more that I have rambled out in the tags but don't remember #But these are the ones I let's say more or less actively think about #Thanks for the ques nonnie #It was v interesting #I will try to be more focused in the future lol #Hope you see this #Mika mumbles back #Ask #Anon #Qsmp #Hc #Headcanon #Hcs

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kalixora · 2 years ago

Text

“I’m death. Straight up.”

Gaz x reader (Kinda🦭)

. Uhhh surprise?

INSPIRATION: Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

I watched the movie again...

Codename: Death

“Task 141. The dangerous ones without guns, a secret force that hides in the shadows and takes down enemies far and wide… and yet here we are, like a cat on its last life.”

Price narrowed his gaze, taking in your presence was one thing. But speaking with you directly was a different matter entirely; it was like being in the presence of death itself.

And what you were / are Death. When it was to your advantage, you were cold, cruel, brutal, and at times empathetic. You were frequently kept under close observation since you had a reputation for making a statement, but that didn't deter you.

"Do you find this amusing?" Price inquired sternly.

“Very,” you mused.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, your standing in here with me alone with no backup.”

Price hummed, crossing his arms, a powerful bodily movement he knew wouldn't bother you, but he needed to get control of the situation. You were both aware that you had the overwhelming advantage, as you always did. This was body language to catch your attention, and you enjoyed a good test.

"Captain, why are you here?" You chuckled. "I can't imagine the strings you pulled to stand in a room with me; are you sure you don't want to smoke one of those cigars?"

“No,” Price leaned to the side and took out a little piece of paper and a pen. He set it on the table and slid it halfway to you. You took the paper and read it as you looked at him, mystified. Your sneer, on the other hand, never wavered. As you tap the pen against the table, a small chuckle escapes your lips.

“What’s this a permission slip?”

“You could say that, yes.”

You hummed as you leaned back in your chair, your gaze scanning the Captain's face, which was solemn. Without a doubt, serious.

"I'm flattered, believe me, but why me? You have Ghost don't you? Say how is Simon doing? Is he behaving himself? And how is Kyle? Still attractive?"

Price nods, “They’re fine.”

“Mmmm, so what’s the problem captain? Tired of your life flashing before your eyes?”

“Then I wouldn’t be good at my job, so here’s the deal- I want you to join my task force, your a powerhouse and from I’ve gathered a lone wolf, even lone wolves stray from packs yeah?”

“Correct.”

“I think it’s time we put that line wolf back with a pack, what do ya say?”

You began to snicker, “That was a cheesy analogy Price but, not to shabby, let me explain something to you, a wolf who distances themselves from the world is called a traitor but one who stays is called a deceiver.”

“That so? There’s a fine line between right and wrong, if the wolf becomes a deceiver and a traitor what do you make of the pack…”

“They meet death.”

“I see… so then do we all know death?”

“Only when it comes to you,” you say with the tilt of your head. “Even the strongest of us Captain will always live a life of fear.”

Price stood up and walked out of the room, where Kate stood on the other side. Price let out a rough sigh and shook his head, one more minute with you in there and it was a wrap. He lost.

“Well,” Kate hummed, “what they say?”

“Bloody bastard didn’t give an answer…”

“I told you.”

“I know…”

“They’ll come.”

Price turned to Laswell his expression was unreadable but she could tell he was irritated. “What makes you so sure?”

“Known Death for a long time, shows up when your in distress… don’t worry to much captain, they’ll show.”

…

The mission has gone to complete shit, Price didn’t know if this was a set up from the get go. Gaz had gone missing and Soap managed to tackle someone out the window and got shot at the same time. Ghost tried to contact Gaz for at least thirty minutes now but the only thing he got back was static. Price searched high and low but each trail of blood he followed they all lead to different bodies, but never Gaz.

Soap: Price how copy?

Price: Copy, report?

Soap: No sign of Gaz, just different bodies

Ghost: He may be unconscious somewhere

Price: That means we have a chance, cover more ground under.

Soap leaned against the wall getting ready to shoot the target unaware of everything about to unfold. He found Gaz the second Price said those words, Gaz was unconscious like Ghost said but, he wasn’t alone.

There was someone else nearby, and they were whistling?

Soap cringed slightly at the tone of the whistle it sounded creepy and off putting yet fascinating. The whistle came closer as Soap peered around the corner seeing the person standing directly over Gaz, Soap placed his finger in the trigger of his gun aiming at them.

“Relax comrade.”

Soap stepped out of his corner fully seeing that you had a blade directly in front of Gaz’s face inches away from inserting it.

“Excuse you?”

“I’m one of you,” you chuckle before standing up fully, you held eye contact with Soap as you got closer to him, “Go on, pick him up.”

Soap stared at you unsure, he wanted to call Price or Ghost, you stood on the side of him now glaring at him. “Pick. Him. Up.”

Soap kept an eye on you while moving quickly towards Gaz, he checked his pulse then began to lift him up placing his arm over his shoulder before turning back to you. You were gone. Without a sound.

Soap managed his way with Gaz and finally reaching it to the others and setting course for base. Soap didn’t say anything the whole ride over, his mind was racing of the thoughts of you, who were you? What were you? What did you mean one of them?

Once landed they all made way to see Laswell, where she stood outside her door waiting for them with a file in her hand. “How’s he doing?”

“Alright, doctor says he should be awake within the next hour or so,” Price answered he tone sounding relieved.

“Something the matter Johnny?” Ghost asked as the two began to head over to see Gaz in the infirmary.

“I don’t know how to explain it, it was so- bloody weird,” Soap says through his confusion. “Did Price mention having a new recruit?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ghost hummed.

Ghost opened the door to the infirmary stopping as he stared inside, Soap peered in the room seeing you again. Right by Gaz’s side. You had your hand on his forehead and you were whispering something to him. In which Gaz began to react to it, his chest moved up and down as if he was chuckling, and he was. His eye fluttering open being met with your piercing gaze.

“Y/N…” Gaz muttered giving you a small smile.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty, how are feeling?” You say as you look up at Ghost and Soap entering the room. You waved at the two of them, “Ah there you two are, was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

“Y/N…” Ghost said almost in disbelief.

“Simon,” you greeted with a smile. “You’ve seen better days.”

“Are you the new recruit?” Ghost asked.

“That I am,” you replied. “Soap right?” You said fixing your gaze on him.

Soap nods, “Bloody hell are ya?”

“ Death.”

“Death?” Soap chuckles, “As in what?”

“Not any other fancy way, I’m Death straight up.”

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littlemisslipbalm · 1 year ago

Text

Demonology - Part 5

I Think I'm Going to Hell -- Jake x f!Reader x Josh

Series Summary: A new demon has come to Nashville. Josh and Jake's ways of life have been thrown off by her arrival. The angel and demon have lived with an understanding of one another, but with Y/N stirring up trouble and asking questions, they're forced to work out a new normal. And why is she so powerful for a human turned demon anyway, that's unusual, right?

A/N: Hi we're back. Last chapter after this! Hopefully it's been an enjoyable ride. All will be revealed and all will be settled by the end of part 6 btw. (Hopefully!)

Chapter Summary: A demon's earth-versary that coincides with her original birthday...a bar, an ancient demon and bad tempers. Nothing could go wrong.

Word Count: 4.9k | Warnings: explicit SMUT (18+), strong language, dubious understandings of demonology, BLOOD, alcohol consumption...eh idk what else just demon sex

Taglist | Masterpost

Part 5: I Think I'm Going To Hell

“Let’s go already!” Jake called gruffly down the hallway.

Today, Y/N had let Jake into her place upon his arrival. It was announced, she was expecting him, so he was allowed to wait in the living room. He was getting impatient though. He hadn’t seen her at all since he’d been there, her door opening on its own when he had called out who it was.

“Do we have to go?” She calls back, still formless for all Jake knows.

“What happened to the demon I met 6 months ago? Who I had to beg to stop fucking with the bars?” Jake grins to himself, Rori on his lap. The demon had won the animal over and they were quite friendly whenever they saw each other. Sometimes Jake would run into just Rori out and about these days.

“She was naive. She didn’t realize just how much it sucked here and that her identity was not all she thought and she didn’t know that there’d be an annoying but hot angel–” She wasn’t yelling, but Jake could hear her as if she were standing in front of him. He figured it was a trick she could do.

“Alright, alright, so is now not a good time to mention that Josh still hasn’t turned up?” Jake wasn’t sure if he wanted to soften the blow or not, so he threw it out there, wondering how it would stick with his demon colleague.

Josh had been MIA for two months. Ever since the dive bar and the ensuing events at his apartment. Jake had tried mildly to reassure Y/N that it was not because of her, but with no word from Josh either, Jake was starting to grow worried as well. He’d gone years without seeing Josh, but he usually checked in or gave a forwarding address when he was going to be gone for a long period of time. This was pretty unusual, Josh was a planner and this was clearly not planned.

She finally appeared in the living room, eyes wide and skirt unzipped with one boot unlaced. Half-dressed and distressed at Jake’s words, but trying to mask it with disdain.

“Well, it’s not surprising at this point. It really doesn’t matter to us, does it?”

Jake shook his head in agreement and stood, “Then why don’t you finish getting ready so we can have a good time. You being sulky really doesn’t do it for me.”

“I’m not supposed to do anything for you anymore if I remember correctly,” She parses, walking back to her room. “Never again.” She repeats in a low voice Jake wasn’t sure was supposed to mimic his own.

He chuckles a little and looks at the dog sitting next to the spot he had just occupied. Rori stared blankly back at Jake, seeming to remember why he had found the demon traitorous before.

“I’m trying to be her mentor, damn,” Jake mumbles under his breath so hopefully only Rori hears him.

Jake promised the bar they were headed for wasn’t lame. The demon’s 6 month anniversary of being back Earth-side also happened to coincide with her ‘human’ birthday. They had made no progress on learning what she really was and she hadn’t had another panic attack yet so they were biding their time.

She was filled with melancholy as of late. Sad she wasn’t as happy as when she’d first come. Sad she still didn’t know who she was. And sad that Josh had abandoned her. She was fine…besides all of that.

With the search for her true identity on indefinite hold and Josh MIA, Jake was trying to be nice. And he really didn’t know how to do that. He had set up this birthday-anniversary soiree when she had mentioned it in passing one night when they were writing up their reports together. They had to, to ensure that both of them weren’t claiming they had created some new evil that they were stealing from the human’s creation. But she had mentioned it and with her so down in the mouth all the time, Jake thought that taking her out would help take her mind off of everything. He hadn’t planned on her being so fucking reluctant about it all, but he was trying in his own way to hide his disappointment.

He grabbed drinks from the bar immediately when they arrived, knowing she would probably want a bottle of red wine and himself a bottle of whiskey. He came to the barstool seats she had found in the corner with the two full bottles and two appropriate glasses. She appreciated his foresight about the amount of alcohol and his demon abilities at procurring these items.

For some reason, which definitely didn’t have to do with her sadness that she was fine about, she didn’t feel like dancing that night, content to watch Jake. Much to Jake’s chagrin.

“C’mon,” Jake almost pleaded, he was trying so hard to get her into the evening but she was half way through her wine and nowhere close to being the life of the party he knew she could be. “It’s your fucking birthday and you don’t look a day over 27.”

He winked with his stupid joke and she rolled her eyes at him, insisting he could go without her. “I’ll be happier over here. If I go out there, I might swallow someone whole.”

Jake tipped his head closer and she could smell the whiskey on his breath, his chest warm practically touching her nose. “You know that nobody would mind that.”

“You’ll get more action without me, Jake.” She presses on his chest, causing him to take a quick step back as he stares at her face intently. “I’d be way too distracting for anyone to even think of dancing with you.”

The smirk on her face makes Jake feel like he’s triumphed a little. It was a flicker of her happier, more confident self. That’s what he wanted for her. It was depressing to see a pretty much all-powerful being being all sad all the time. He blows a kiss her way and then saunters through the crowd, easily taking the center how she normally would.

He turns his body back to face her once he’s where he wishes to be and raises his chin, silently seeing if she’ll come join him one more time. She sips her wine in response and crosses her legs, relaxing her joints into the grooves of the wooden countertop.

Without much time for himself, women began to flock to Jake. It was hilarious to watch from an outsider’s perspective. He was given free shots left and right and she laughed to herself. She wasn’t sure if it was Jake’s demonic presence that encouraged the women or if it was simply the way he looked. He flashed an evil grin that human women took as charming. His black unbuttoned button down, tucked into his baggy black pants on one side while the other hung loose, he looked rugged and expensive. He had pulled his glasses down onto his face when he had entered the dance floor and maybe those shrouded him in mystery. His clean black boots had white embroidered snakes curling around the sides as if they disappeared up into his pants.

Sweat began to gather in the notch between his collarbones and at his temple the longer he stayed on the dance floor. He had a rotation of women dancing about him and he seemed to love the music that was playing. Y/N agreed, while she didn’t recognize the songs, she hadn’t immediately moved to change it upon their arrival.

Her eyes watched the way Jake’s body moved and was reminded of the way it had felt. She didn’t like to think about her first night with Jake often because it had been something special and beautiful which was so unlike anything else about their relationship. It was like that one night had existed outside of the reality in which they lived. Jake, after that, had been gruff and professional with her. Little comments here and there would slip through the cracks, but she chalked them up to demon nature.

That night was a microcosm. How he had writhed above her and done anything she asked. How she had laid in his arms afterward and felt safe and seen. It was unlike anything she had ever felt in this world and then it was ripped from her. It was painful to reminisce on it because she knew she could never have it that way again. Why? She wasn’t exactly sure, but she thought it was because Jake didn’t like that he had let someone in. She didn’t press, but sometimes late at night her mind would slip to memories of Jake on his knees and Jake inside her. Or right now.

She was watching him dance, women grinding themselves back onto him as he let his hair shake out behind his shoulders and she remembered what it had felt like to be in his powerful embrace. Like Josh, yet so extremely different. So different she couldn’t begin to think which she preferred. Given that Jake had shut her down about ever fucking again and her night with Josh had quite literally driven him away, she wasn’t exactly sure she’d ever have to choose since both of them had chosen for her.

As she wallowed in her dwindling wine, she allowed herself to wonder if this was all actually real and not just her own hell. A world where she was allegedly special, but in reality she was cursed. Cursed to have the two men she’d ever felt real connections with reject her after she’d had sex with them and then forced to live the rest of her time with them just out of her reach and have a mundane confusing existence as an ‘other’, an outsider, in the world she had once loved.

She shot straight up in her seat, discarding her wine with a finality to it and began to march through the crowd towards Jake. The bodies part for her to slip through easily except for the one woman who was currently trying to dry hump Jake. Y/N grimaced for a moment before her lips curled into a sickly sweet smile, her own version of the charming evil grin.

She wasn’t sure if Jake had noticed her yet, but if he had he had made no moves to remove the obstacle in between them. He either had his eyes closed behind the dark shades or was waiting to see what she would do.

“Sweetheart, can you hop off my boyfriend for a sec? I need to talk to the bastard.”

Her eyes began to glimmer a slight red as she watched the distress in the woman’s face grow. Y/N raised her eyebrows expectantly, still smiling, somewhat hoping the other woman would put up a fight.

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry, he didn’t say,” The stranger sputters and the demon bites back a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, hon. Like I said, he’s a bastard.” She finishes her sentence with a wink and a light shove to the drunk woman so that she could get to Jake.

She could barely make out his eyes behind his glasses, so she took the liberty of taking them off of his face and placing them in his breast pocket. Something about the action made the skin on her neck prickle with memory, but then it was gone, distracted by Jake’s deep chuckle.

“Jealous, kid?” He tilts his head down and a little to the side so she can hear him.

“No,” She growls, getting pushed closer to Jake by the crowd, her hands landing on his chest as she tries to keep her distance but to no avail.

“It seems like my heavy bump and grind got your no-good-panties in a twist?” Further liquored up, Jake is slipping more than usual and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly close.

He had liked having a body close on the dance floor, but now that it was hers he was even happier. She could feel it.

“No, you absolute old man,” She groans, but can’t help the flutter of her eyelids towards Jake’s neck in all its sweat-glistening glory, now up close and personal.

“Says the demon who said ‘neato’ when I showed her how to use her television properly.”

“One time!” She shot back. “We’re getting off track. I stomped over here for a reason.”

“Because you want a piece of this action,” Jake nodded his head and chewed on the inside of his cheek, smirking at her.

Her nails dig into Jake’s chest and he quiets.

“Is this hell?” She hisses, eyes crazed.

“Pardon?”

“Is. This. Hell. Is this my secret punishment, men who have sex with me and then won’t touch me again. A mundane life, tormented by you two and some unknowable question of who I am.” She repeats her idea. “Am I being punished?”

Jake chuckles and swings her body around, scooping her off of her feet and taking them in a half circle. “Absolutely not. I would never agree to being a punishment demon. I’m way too old for that, I’m an Earth demon I promise.”

“But what if you’re just saying that so I won’t figure out that this is a fake earth? Or what if this is indeed Earth and I still was sent back as punishment and you’re lying?” She prods, poking her fingers into Jake’s skin.

He frowns, realizing how serious she was about this. His hands slide down to her hips, stilling the half-hearted dancing they’d been doing. “For real?”

She hums, mulling it over again. “Yeah. I need you to prove it somehow or else I’m ringing head office to say something about you and Josh’s alliance because, I swear, this is all fake.”

“Fuck,” He breathes. He yanks at one of her hands and immediately whisks them out onto the street.

Out on the dark pathway, the crowds of people seem to dissipate and gray, Jake’s doing. He was muting out the rest of the world so that he could focus on the problem that Y/N was becoming.

“You’re serious.” It’s not so much a question as a confirmation.

“Yes.”

“Well, how am I supposed to convince you it’s real?” He sounds annoyed but also a little desperate.

She scans his face, his brows furrowed and jaw clenched. At least he seemed genuinely disturbed by this situation. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe this all was just her brain trying to cope with everything that had happened in her life and death. Her mind was trying to rationalize a world that clearly wasn’t rational and it all felt like it was imploding because she was hitting a milestone. She felt more human than she ever felt her first 27 years on Earth.

Her intensity washed out of her, a doused fire simmering to a fizzle. Jake saw it in the droop of her arms and the way she dropped eye contact with him, instead scanning her feet that scuffed at the ground.

“Maybe I’m just sad on my stupid fucking birthday,” She says and Jake huffs, with a roll of his eyes.

“You can’t be serious,” Jake fires up. “You dragged me out of there because you’re sad on your birthday? You’re a fucking demon, just forget about it.” He had tried being nice, but the feeling of a heart attack that had come over him when she had said she’d call the head office had sent him into a desperate state. To have her so quickly blow it all off, summing it up to birthday blues. She was ridiculous.

“I want to go home, Jake.”

“You’re a fucking pest.” He spits.

“Fuck you,” She practically screams and turns to walk away. Jake’s hand grips her wrist and she tries to yank it free. “Let me go.”

“Stop. Okay, just stop. For one fucking second.”

She huffs and turns to Jake. His eyes are more of an orange than yellow right now and she’s not sure what that means. His hands move to her forearms and she can feel how tight his grip is on her, it scares her a little.

“Don’t ever,” He pauses, either for emphasis or to collect himself. “Scare me like that for some no good, stupid reason. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, whatever…fuckin’ altar boy bitch.” She grumbled, moving to push past Jake. In an instant, she isn’t pushing past him down the street, instead into the dim hallway of his home. “What the…”

His hand was around her throat in an instant. He’d taken their impending fight to somewhere more private. She would’ve been impressed if she wasn’t so angry with him. His hand was forcing her to meet his eyes as he spoke slowly.

“I think you’re mad at me.” His eyes boring into hers. “Why are you mad, Sal? Because I was doing your job better than you? Can’t get it up anymore for evil after you got touched by an angel?” He keeps talking as she tries to yank away from his hold again. It felt like he was slipping into a demonic trance. “I think that’s your problem. Went and got fucked by an angel, he left and now you’re all mushy. Get over it. That’s not who you are”

Voice strained with the pressure on her neck, she hisses. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

He shrugs as if the question rolled off his back like water. He never answered her questions and it made her want to scream.

“I know how to deal with a brat when I see one, kid. And I know you, you’re a huge fucking brat when you don’t get what you want.”

She tried to shake off his grasp and Jake put more pressure on her skin. She fought back the moan in her throat. The pressure of his hands and his body, hard against her, paired with his harsh words – however she hated hearing them, sent spirals of electricity through her body. She wanted Jake and she missed Josh and she wished she’d never been sent here, but this was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I think you were just pissed I didn’t have my attention all on you. That’s why we had to tear out of there. You wanted me to grab you by the hips and grind against you all night. Because you’re sad.” He pauses, inhaling her scent, eyes flickering to their usual sinister yellow. The fear and anger was intoxicating to him, just a little. “It’s not my fucking fault…”

She mumbles something out in a hoarse whisper.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” His grip loosens only slightly.

“Slut,” she repeats louder. “You were being a slut and it was embarassing. I think you loved it though. All those girls fawning over you, wanting me to want it. You were trying to make me jealous. Even though you always say never again, you still want it.”

Jake laughs cruelly, his nose trailing along the exposed skin of her jaw. “I can’t help it that they throw themselves at me. That last one was relentless, huh?”

The flicker of avoidance in her eyes catches Jake’s attention and like the demon he is, he zoned in on the hole in her armor. There was a sliver of truth in what Jake had been spouting for the last few minutes of this odd dance between fighting and foreplay.

He pressed closer and she fought back another moan. Jake took note of the way her legs shifted though and he knew.

He hummed, savoring the victory he knew he’d already gotten. “Did she get under your skin? How she was pressed up against me, writhing as if I already had my aching cock inside her rather than nestled between her pert ass cheeks? The tiniest jean shorts…”

She felt him against her thigh, throb and her eyes shut. Jake yanked at her hair with his other hand and flipped her around, assuming the position he had just described. His one hand was still at her throat and the other trailed down her back to press at her hip, keeping him close.

He put his lips to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Hot and insistent. Demonic. This was what he was at the end of the day. Who they both were. No matter how much he might want to change, old habits die hard.

“You know we could go back?” His tone is teasing, sinful. “Could fingerfuck you right in front of her if that’d make you feel better. Just to show her I’ve already got a play thing.”

She tried to keep her mouth shut. Saying everything she wanted to scream at him in her head.

She couldn’t help that she pressed back into him and Jake laughed again. “Fuck, you need it, yeah? My angel of a brother can’t give it to you like this, huh?” His grip tightens and she sputters out an expletive. “He ran off because of you, isn’t that right? He hated it so much.

“Shut up, Jake.” She gets out, her eyes frantically switching to black, pulling on any power that might help right now.

“I wouldn’t speak to me like that,” he warns, rocking his hips against hers. “Go to my room.”

She rolls her eyes, breath heaving when he releases his hold on her finally. She hates that he knows she’ll listen. She curses him as he watches her with a smugness in his jaw and complete arousal in his pants.

“I hate you,” She spits one last time.

“Yeah, right.” He smirks with a shake of his head.

She tried not to think about Josh as she sauntered to Jake’s room. How similar and yet how different he was to his demon counterpart. The sick notion (even as a demon, she thought it might be too far) that passed through her head of what it might be like to have them at the same time. Two sets of hands, two mouths, two of the same…and she knew they were oh so similar. She fell back onto his bed and wished Josh would appear, to offer his grace to this turbulent chase.

“What’re you thinking about in that evil head of yours, little one?” Jake appears in the doorway, his voice calmer now. She riled him up in ways he had never thought possible.

“Nothing.”

“I can make you tell me, you know that.”

She rolled her eyes, watching Jake crawl across the bed to her. His face was in her neck the moment he was close enough and she felt the drag of his teeth down the fragile skin.

“Don’t make me put you in your place.” He murmurs, his tongue flicking against her.

“How’re you gonna do that, oh powerful one?” After a moment's respite, she was feeling like taking some of the power back. With his hand no longer around her neck, she didn’t feel so trapped.

Jake chuckled darkly and then growled, “Watch.”

“I thought I was just your mentee and you were my mentor. Where'd that—Ow! Oh,” she paused at the feeling in her throat that had hurt but was quickly turning to ecstasy. “Fuckkk…Jake, what’re you–doing? Oh fuck!”

His teeth had sunk into her skin and she felt something hot and sticky rushing down her body. She gulped, gasping for air as she began to writhe and moan with no stimulation apart from whatever Jake was doing to her neck. He was moaning against her now too, with licks and slurps to the fresh open wound on her.

“Tell me what you were thinking,” he repeats when he pulls back, drops of dark inky blood racing down his chin as he stares at her with his yellow eyes tinged red. “Or I’ll drain you.”

“You wouldn’t,” she gasped, voice choppy. “You can’t! They’ll call you down for a trial before the dark council, for sure.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’d get some straight answers on who you are then,” Jake grins and some of his teeth are sharper than she’s ever seen. His fingers are at her thighs again, teasing. “But I’ll bring you so close to the edge that you’ll tell me what you’re thinking because you’re so weak from the terrible mix of pleasure and pain and maybe then some. Wouldn’t you rather just tell me now so we can save the recovery period and I can fuck you into next week instead?”

There’s a moment of silence. Her mind racing and attempting some sort of coherency with the head rush Jake drinking her blood had just caused. A mix of desire and pain and surprise and fear and hot, heady ecstasy.

“You and Josh. Both,” she manages to choke out.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes still staring into hers. “Absolute fucking slut,” Jake laughs. It’s almost painful in its sound. “It’s incredible they didn’t just make you a succubus…Now that wasn’t so hard was it.”

“Jake…”she whined, the slick of the blood on her throat was drifting down her chest.

He leaned down at her voice and lapped at it, then he ran a hand gently over the wound, effectively closing it right back up.

“Good as new,” He whispers, his voice soft and private. Completely different than moment’s ago. Knowing Jake was like experiencing constant whiplash. Exciting, but dangerous.

Her legs shift as Jake’s knee presses against her heat. He smiles, teeth no longer as sharp as they were. More a man than a monster visually, but now she was certain she’d never forget the animal inside him. Enticing as it was.

“Alright alright. You want me to fill this pussy, yeah?” His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of the panties that still covered her. He had magicked away all of their clothes except under garments when he’d first slid over her and she’d barely registered it.

“Fuck it so good you forget all about my brother? How’s that?” His fingers play between her quivering slit, messy with her wetness. He hums, middle finger wandering to prod at her entrance that was throbbing to the sound of his voice. “Yeah you want that I can tell.”

She whined, completely at the mercy of his hands, barely aware of the actual words he spoke and just riding the sweet current of his gruff voice. The most perfect timbre. It made her nipples peak and her legs spread wider. She just wanted him to consume her.

Effectively, she has forgotten about Josh and she can barely compare this Jake to the first time she had him. It’s like they were two completely different people. Tonight, she was lost in Jake in unfamiliar ways. His scent encased her. Sweat and fire burning. Still a little bit of nickel in the air from her blood, she tasted it on his tongue.

As his fingers opened her up, he thrusted into her thigh, wanting to sink into her. She moaned at the feeling of him hot and hard against her. Her hands grabbing at his shoulders as his lips laid brazen kisses across her healed neck and heaving chest. Jake brought her to the edge a few times, making her scream and shake before he gave in to what they both truly wanted.

His cock was just as beautiful as she remembered. Thick and heavy as it gleamed between their bodies. Jake’s eyes caught hers as she stared and he smirked, leaning forward to drag it through her folds while she watched. The sound of her slickness fell over their ears, mixing with heavy breathing. She shook slightly at the sensation of the head dragging over her sensitive clit and she whimpered when Jake prodded it against her entrance.

“Good fucking girl,” He groaned as he slid in.

She moaned his name back and he gifted a sweet kiss to her lips. One of the first tonight. He began to thrust in and out steadily. The slick sound between them only growing. A red light flickered around them as he sped up. Her fingers gripped tighter against his clammy skin, nails digging in and leaving jagged lines. He groaned at the pain, pushing harder.

Their breathing melded, their bodies working in tandem. He’d grow close and slip out of her, making her whine and then he’d move to another position he remembered her enjoying. She wished he’d speak more. He’d grown quiet, heaving, stuttering breaths, some of the only sounds leaving him since he’d entered her.

She knew he was close when he brought her back to missionary. Thrusting faster, breathing more erratic than before. His voice seemed to have come back to him as he babbled. “Swear you’ve got a magic pussy. So wet and perfect,” he sighed. “My cock wants to live here, Sal.”

She moaned in response but something felt off. Jake was cumming in seconds causing her to tighten with his release, an orgasmic cloud fogging her mind. Forgetting what she was disturbed by for a few minutes as they basked in the afterglow.

Jake rolled off of her and touched his fingers against the edge of his sheets, lightly singed. That was new. Their breathing evened and she felt herself curl into Jake’s side. His hand came to her shoulder protectively.

Her voice comes out as a whisper, “Don’t call me that again.”

“What?” Jake racks his brain for the names he had called her, wondering which one had been too far.

“Sal.” She responds calmly, her body feeling light, except that one nagging feeling. “I don’t think that’s my name.”

lmk what you think!

Taglist: @ofthecaravel @gretavanfreaky @sinarainbows @jaketlove @mysticalstarcatcher @whiterosekiszka @sacredjake @beingextraisfun @malany-gvf @joshysgirl @ascendingtothestarssasone @amygvf13 @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @alwaysonthemend @lvnterninthenight @thecoldwind @thetroublegetssoloud71

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purplelupins · 2 years ago

Text

Unholy Piety

|Midnight Mass|

Dark!Father Paul Hill X werewolf!fem!reader

Summery: You hated him. He had taken you as a pet, and you hated every moment with him. So what happens when you go into heat and he’s the one person to help you?

FOR ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THIS WORLD MINORS DO NOT READ THIS.

Warnings: established relationship, Father Paul is mean, owner/pet(prisoner) relationship, SMUT, BREEDING, reader is in heat and needs help, priest kink, innocence kink, abuse, unhealthy relationship, fingering, multiple orgasms, semi-forced, cockwarming(vaginal) mentions of past blowjobs, orgasms, lots of cum, light pain kink.

Notes: this is a commission for @mandowifey

This is filthy.

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There was only one word that could describe Crockett Island. That minuscule pin-prick of an island off the coast of Maine.

Slow.

It was very, very slow. The people, the life, the storms, the animals.

After only being on the island for a matter of weeks, you knew that your opinion would never change, even if the big rock did happen to grow on you.

“You take care now.”

Father Paul cast one more small, friendly wave to Sarah Gunning as he stepped down onto the road from the house. Your head perked up from its relaxed positions between your paws as you had been waiting idle for the Monsignor to finish his rounds on the island. As he came to your side, and you stood to your full height, his hand fell absentmindedly to your head; a comfortable gesture he had taken to doing after having you fall into step beside him each time he left the rectory.

That day was just like many others. One where rain hung in the air, and another day where you walked obediently beside Father Paul Hill. You knew people stared at the two of you more often than not, and while you didn’t blame them one bit, you would have thought they had gotten used to the two of you and the strange image you presented. However, there were perks to the unease you created- namely the things you heard them whisper about you.

Hound dog.

Devil dog.

Monster.

Beast.

Hell hound.

Though you had to blame most of those on Beverly. She had a true talent for her imagination. And while you detested the leech…those names made you laugh.

“You must be hungry, hm?” You heard Father Paul beside you, then felt his large hand stroke your ear, and you reflexively shook him off, earning you a deep chuckle, “Someone’s in a mood…guess you’re not that hungry then. Too bad…I think I-“ he paused to wave at someone passing by, a forced smile making its way onto his handsome face like you had seen so many times…the same one you had fallen for mistakenly, “-I still have some of that casserole from Annie…I know how much you liked it.” He spoke so softly to you, glancing down at your massive form, stroking a bothersome finger down your thick fur as he taunted you.

Assho-

“Father! Father Paul!”

As if in practised synchronicity, both you and the priest turned your heads to the female voice that called out to him. You saw the apprehension in Dolly Scarborough’s face when she took inventory of your ever-present form beside Father Paul since his arrival.

Whether you wanted it to or not, a low growl formed in the back of your throat as she got closer and closer until she was within arms reach of the Father. If you had been able to take your eyes off the woman, you would have seen the traitorous, knowing smirk that pinched at the falsely holy man’s perfect Cupid’s bow. But you weren’t listening as Dolly prattled on about something to do with a town meeting and how Leeza was doing- if you weren’t in this form, you probably would have given anything to go with Dolly to have a cup of tea…anything to get away from Father Paul and his iron grip on you. But as your situation would have it, your primal instinct to protect what your canine brain staked as your territory was stronger than you could manage.

And your territory happened to be the 6’5 priest with kind brown eyes that stood beside you.

Her arm was too close to him, practically brushing against his grey cardigan; your sharp eyes were fixated on that point where they nearly joined. Your massive jaws were starting to ache from the need to snap at her arm.

Frighten her.

Put her in her place.

Make her go away.

This was your area.

Your territory.

Yours.

The control you had began to slip, and you could feel your muscles tense as you prepared to pounce. Then, just as you were about to give in, Father Paul laughed at something she said, and put a hand on your head again, and it all stopped. Normally, you hated him touching you…breathing near you, existing in general, but in that moment you needed that connection to reassure you.

Calm you.

You loathed that you needed it.

Needed him.

As you found solace in his touch, Dolly said her goodbyes, including one to you, and walked down the dirt road away from the two of you.

“It’s alright…I’m not going anywhere.” He cooed to you, turning on his heel to continue the path home.

He must have heard the low rumble that vibrated in your chest when you had been staring at Dolly’s arm, and didn’t feel like cleaning up a mess. Your eye twitched and you ‘accidentally’ almost stepped one of your huge paws on the father’s foot.

Stupid…puppy looking self-righteous prick.

Perfect hearing ass-hat.

It wasn’t as if you wanted to be where you were; the personal pet for Father Paul… or whatever his name was. You would have gone to hell and back if you had had the choice to be anywhere but there- but nothing could have prepared you for being carted away to a remote island like an artefact. How could you have known that the strange man with the soothing voice and careful smile would turn out to be a devil incarnation? That when he had cooed to you about your condition when he found you, that he had had a hand behind his back with a silver knife to trap you.

You hated that you couldn’t snap at him in your current form…what you wouldn’t give to sink your huge teeth into his arm as it swung beside you…but you knew it would only do more bad than good once he healed.

You sighed and shook your heavy head.

He breathed out a laugh as if he could read your mind as you came up the hill to the Rectory. Then he cast a look around to ensure that you were both alone and leaned down to your soft ear and growled out, “You’d better behave.” Before he gave your fur an unnecessarily hard tug to pull you towards his small home…and your cell.

Inside, it was admittedly a very cozy home. Comfortable and modest. And you were certain that in any other situation, you might have looked forward to seeing it everyday, but given the fact that as soon as the door shut, the house was more akin to a prison than anything else. Once you transformed back into your far less furry form, the ‘nice’ Father was already buckling your collar around your neck; his eyes passive and bored when the chain attached to it clinked.

“Feeling a little precarious today with our emotions?” Came that purr of a voice as you kept your eyes closed to pretend you were anywhere else.

Your face twitched. “Didn’t know we shared emotions…are you going to braid my hair and sing Kumbaya too?” Your sharp reply earned you an equally sharp tug on the leather collar.

“So ill-tempered for such a pretty little thing…” he hummed to himself from behind you, “Now are you going to be a good puppy for me or are you going to insist on fasting again?” He murmured, warm breath fanning down your bare neck; he loved his thinly veiled threats.

Your eye twitched and you bit your tongue to keep in a shiver, “Its cold in here.”

The Monsignor sighed and nodded, making no show of hiding the fact that he was staring down at your bare body, “It is…I suppose a good puppy should live by divine example from their owner…here.” He grabbed a sweater and a pair of your panties that had been thrown off you the night previous.

Just as you went to take them, he held them out of your grasp, and you cursed how small you were in this form.

“Say “Please, Father Paul.”…you know better.” He murmured with a tsk as he turned you to face him.

Your eye twitched again. “Eat shit father P-“

Smack

His hand left a red mark on your cheek, but his expression remained steady as ever.

“Manners.” He said flatly.

You swore you would break your own jaw by how tightly you were grinding your molars.

“Please Father Paul can I please have some clothes please?” You managed to get out all sickly sweet, staring up into his dead eyes.

It seemed that while your sarcastic reply was blatant, he basked in the fact that you did as he said. Paul grinned and handed you the clothes like he was handing you a gift from God, “You see? Good comes to good people, sweet thing.” His black eyes were trained on you as you dressed yourself so fast you swore you’d have rashes later.

Having a barrier between you and him was more than welcomed. It was needed. On more than one occasion he had made you sit there on the floor with nothing but your skin and the collar chained to the wall…especially in the early days.

Just another routine.

Another routine in your life was one you particularly hated. Feared, almost. Not that it happened regularly…but when it did, it made a pit of dread fill your stomach, especially now that you were confined to a small island.

You knew the signs. Your smell changed, your temperature skyrocketed, you had a desperate need to form a nest, and worst but strongest of all was of course your unquenchable need to mate. To be bred.

You hadn’t experienced your heat since he took you…and while it used to be horrible, now you knew it would be even worse with him there.

How you loathed it. You were so weak. Your own body and mind betrayed you, making you so docile and feeble.

You hated it.

You were sat in the bedroom of the rectory, a mass of blankets and pillows gathered around you as you rode out another extreme wave of arousing pain that set your skin on fire and left your clit pulsing desperately. If there was a hell, this would be hell on earth. It was as if any extreme emotion that the human body was capable of had been dialled up to 100 and injected into you.

Pathetic.

It was just after midnight when you heard voices from the church as mass ended. You were surprised more people didn’t question this change…you knew a few people had come by after Father Paul’s “disappearance”…but aside from that you hadn’t noticed anyone making much of a fuss.

With his new pointy disposition, you were affectively stuck inside with him all day. He loved it -being in your company-but now he smelled more unappetizing than those dead cats that had “washed” up month ago.

You put a pillow to your face you as let out a scream of frustration. This was true torture.

An inferno on earth. How poetic.

You wanted to vomit.

Heat made your hearing so sensitive- every little creak and shuffle inside and outside put you on edge. Your head began to pound as you listened to the few people leaving the white building after they had gobbled up that priest’s bullshit. You wondered how they couldn’t see his god-complex; though you supposed they just wanted something to believe it.

Desperation pushed people to do desperate things after all.

This was a statement that ring all too true to you in that moment; when the door to the humble home opened, and you heard the gentle voice of Father Paul call out for you, your body screamed at you in exactly that: desperation.

The Monsignor called your name again.

God you hated how you wanted to run to him. Be held by him. You could feel your legs twitching to get you up- to bend you over to be bred.

Paul slowly walked into the bedroom, and leaned against the door frame that was too small for his height; tilting his head to the side as he tsked at your form.

All curled up on his bed.

Sweating.

Needy.

He could see the clear stains on the sheets from your slick cunt making a mess.

“How’s my little puppy?” He murmured, rolling up his sleeves. The fact that he took a long inhale did not escape you; it wasn’t his fault that you smelled so tantalising.

“Fuck off.” Came your muffled reply as you held onto the blankets for dear life.

Father Paul exhaled sharply. You knew he hated your fowl mouth. He had reminded you on numerous occasions with his legs spread wide as he read biblical verses to you as your throat ached from his cock being forced down it. Though it was better than when he made you sit there for hours impaled on him with that silver knife in his free hand in case you tried to move.

“In another mood, are we? You know you don’t look well, little thing. Feeling…warm?” He cooed, making a point to stroke down your bare leg that stuck out from your spot. That man knew damn well what was going on. He might have been a sadistic monster, but he was intelligent.

He knew you were in heat.

He could smell you from the pulpit during his service. Could practically taste you…he had never been so thankful for the Chasuble to hide his erection.

“Go away Paul.” You said his name venomously, raising your head slightly.

He chuckled again.

“Is that what you really want, puppy?” He purred, leaning over your form, taunting you with his presence. It was like having a drug you craved put in front of you just out of reach.

You whined, and he hummed- a low rumble in his chest that made your insides pulse with need.

Different species or not, he was another predator in his own nature and your body craved him; needed to be dominated.

“The righteous hate what is false, but the wicked make themselves a stench and bring shame on themselves…” he quoted that god forsaken book, and you made a gagging sound, “The more you lie, the more sin will attach to you…surround you…engulf your soul.” He ran his hand through your messy hair.

Heat be damned, there was a little bit of fight left in you; the Monsignor gave you such a perfect opportunity being so close and vulnerable, and you took it. Your teeth were in his forearm faster than you usually could move, and his blood was swimming into your mouth. Another gag formed at the back of your throat at the fowl liquid, but it felt so good to release your anger.

Paul sighed pitifully, and grabbed a fist full of your hair at the base of your scull and pulled.

Hard.

You hated how much it hurt.

That he knew it hurt you.

The hold you had on him loosened, and your teeth came away from his arm; mouth covered in crimson.

“Now look at what you did…” he tsked you and shook his head as he still held you firm and inspected his wound that was already stitching itself together.

You spat out the blood, and felt each of your senses go into overdrive. “Just back off.” You ground out, another surge of need coursing through you- it took everything in your power to keep him from seeing how much pain you were in. “Can’t stand your fucking smell you musty old bible.”

One of his brows rose at the statement, not that it was anything new. He was well aware that you smelled far more divine to him than he did to you.

“Suit yourself.” Paul hummed, and the sound vibrated through your bones like a massage; just his voice made you feel weak.

You glared at him as he stood, towering over you like your were but a small child. It was written all over his face that he saw you as something akin to exactly that- something tiny and in need of guidance.

Once his tall frame finally disappeared from the room, you wished you could find it in yourself to sigh out of relief, but if anything the horrid anguish that wrecked every atom in your poor body was only aggravated. A scream built inside your throat, anything to get that humanoid priest to come back into the room and end your suffering.

So you bit a pillow.

Shredded it really.

Feathers floated down around you in some sort of sick imitation of a halo, and you swatted them away. As fate would have it, Father Paul strode past the door just as you did so, his gaze catching you and the onslaught of white fluff. He chuckled again, and shook his head as he continued his path to the small couch, a cup of tea in hand; not that he cared for the taste any more. It was just a soothing routine.

Another hour passed by in dead silence…save for your moans of agony echoing through the rectory every so often.

Father Paul was sat still on the couch, a book in hand and cup lazily left beside him. At each of your little whines and groans, he would smile secretly to himself; he knew it was only a matter of time. Not that he had been with you through a heat, but he knew the sound of despair.

And he was right.

First came the sound of the chain that kept you confined to the far half of the home, then came the soft sound of your bare feet on the cold, old floor. Then your heavy panting that you tried so pathetically to mask. He heard your breath catch in your sweet throat when your urges pounded at your insides, and your bitten whimpers when you almost gave in.

There was a soft thud from behind him, where you had fallen to your knees from a particularly harsh surge inside you.

“Is my pup having a difficult time?” He called, barely raising his eyes from his page.

“Peachy.” You forced out.

The Monsignor breathed out a short, soundless laugh to himself. You were always one for short and smart retorts; not that they were always particularly of high intelligence or wit, but he found you amusing when you do blatantly refused your own nature. When you were hungry and he offered you food, when you were tired and he offered you a bed, when he offered you care and you turned up your nose.

You would be shown the way, Paul was certain of it. It would just take time, and in that time he would be tested by his lord; a true testament of his faith.

It was only a few minutes that had passed when Father Paul was brought out of his thoughts by you; the sound of you pulling at your collar and chain. Finally, he turned around, folding his book neatly in his lap, and watched as you sunk even further to the floor by the door frame; clutching at your torso like it might fly away, and toes curling; chain completely strained.

You were the complete image of human suffering.

Beautiful.

If the holy man could only imagine wings sheltering you, you would have resembled an angel fallen down to God’s green earth.

He slowly stood, and your ears caught every movement from his body; his shirt scratching against itself, his pants adjusting, his socks slipping down slightly. A long shadow cast over you from his exceedingly tall fame, and while you refused to give him the satisfaction of having you gaze up at him like his followers did at Mass…his affect on you remained the same.

You felt small.

And pathetic.

And hopeless.

Not that you’d tell that monster any of that. Hell would freeze over and those bullshit pearly gates would go rusty before he heard a full confession of how tight his grip on you was.

“What did I tell you about lying, hmm?”

A cold hand slipped along your back, and you could feel your scorching body heat grow cool as he absorbed it. You hated that a small whimper escaped you- having some of the feverish heat relieved was simply divine.

You bet having the rest of him touch you would-

Shut the fuck up you piece of shit horny ass brain. This is an undead monster playing the part of a holy man for fucksake.

“Let me help you, little one…”

That hand on you slid into your hair, and petted your scalp. Again, you felt your shoulders relax, but then your wits came back to you so fast you almost got whiplash from how fast you tried to lunge at the man before you. However, just as you should have expected by then, the icy touch of metal against your neck froze every muscle in your body.

While your body would not move, your eyes did; they were wide and held a fear there that wasn’t shown often. The satisfaction it gave Father Paul to see you staring up at him as such was so strong he felt a sense of regret; sinful was how it felt. Addictive.

“Didn’t I tell you to mind your manners?” He murmured- the light behind him made the shadows on his handsome face darken until he resembled something closer to what he really was- a monster.

A predator.

A demon.

A devil.

In fact he was exactly that: a devil. He had become what he most feared as a man of god. His cheeks looked hollow and his eyes held no light- the bags under them only adding weight to his features like he might drag you down with him into the fiery bowels where his soul now lay.

While you knew you would hate yourself for it by the time the sun rose, in that moment you could not contain the whimper that spilled from your bitten lips. He held you there in that position for as long as he liked, tilting his head every once and a while as he regarded your immobilized form.

Death was not something that you had to worry about unless something silver was being pointed at you; at that moment, however, you had exactly that being held against the column of your throat- a perfectly sharpened silver knife. You still counted that cursed thing as a particularly nasty “Fuck you” from whatever god or gods there were. The fact that the Monsignor had just so happened to have purchased one on his travels, and had it in his possession when he encountered you that first time beyond coincidence; ever since then that blade had become a thorn in your side. The ever-present reminder that you now belonged to Father Paul Hill, and of the circumstances that would befall you should you disobey him.

You watched as his chest deflated- a long sigh from him fanning across your skin.

“I thought you were past this level of hostility, y/n…” his deep tenor vibrated in your ears, and curled your toes. Hypnotic. “…was I wrong?” He added so quietly you thought he might be talking to himself, but then you felt the knife press harder against you and you fought to not squirm, “I said- Was. I. Wrong?” Father Paul spoke dangerously. An edge to his tone made you flinch, and your eyes darted around the room frantically as you wondered if he might actually snap. Slit your throat and be done with you…

“…tell me I wasn’t wrong…”

The voice that you now heard was akin to a punch to your diaphragm. Your lungs felt tight as you tried to breathe. His words- his plea made you look up at his crouched form. He wasn’t even looking at you, his gaze instead on where the silver blade was sat against your jugular.

You could feel your normal mind far back in the dark reaches of your brain screaming at you to fight him- tell him to shove the knife where the sun don’t shine…but that part of your psyche was very small in that moment. The rest was begging you to roll onto your back and beg for forgiveness, tell him you’d never leave him that you needed him…so you opted for something in the middle while you still could.

“No…you weren’t wrong.” The words were heavy on your tongue, and tasted as horrible as he smelled. But you weren’t ready to have the life fade from you just yet, and so in favour of living through the night, and perhaps with some reprieve from the awful disposition you had at that moment…you submitted to him. Your shoulders sank, and your face went lax, save for the odd flinch and wince from the pain and extreme arousal that punished you.

“Will you let me help you?” Father Paul repeated his statement from what felt like hours ago.

A tear broke away from your glassy eyes. Traitor.

You didn’t nod, or give any indication that you would let him do anything, but your lack of resistance was more than enough for him to move forward. Father Paul slowly let the blade slip away from your throat, and he placed it on the counter; there was a light threat to having it remain there.

Large hands encircled your arms, and lifted you up easily to stand on already shaky legs.

“Up, up, up…there you go.” He muttered out so gently you almost laughed; the speed at which that man could go from being an otherworldly predator with a lust for blood to being a soft spoken man who only wanted the best was unmatched. Father Paul lifted you into his arms, and carried you back into the comfort of the bedroom where he laid you down on the makeshift nest you had created hours before.

As soon as you were back in your haven, your hands acted on their own; reaching out to the Monsignor who gazed at you with those deep, rich brown eyes you usually would detest…but something about their soulfulness then made your mind go soft. He watched as you grasped his hand, and almost chuckled at how you could only hold a few of his fingers. Such a little thing you were to him.

You didn’t know if you wanted to pull him closer like your mind begged you to or to toss him from the room like your common sense knew you should; you stared up at him, your hips rocking of their own volition against the blanket there. In the darkness, Father Paul’s eyes flashed from the little light, and your mind remembered that you were indeed dealing with a nocturnal predator…not that the pain under your skin paid that fact any mind.

The rate at which you felt yourself submitting to his supremacy was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it any longer. “P-please…” you whimpered, brows scrunched in despair.

“Tell me what you need, little one.” He shifted closer to you, those soft eyes of his replaced with onyx. But his face was so sincere that you nearly wept.

Sweat had begun to gather at the nape of your neck, and your hands felt too warm, and your head was dizzy and heavy.

“I ne-need you…” you panted, trying to pull him closer.

Father Paul nodded, and brought your forehead to his lips so as to press a kiss there. You might have slapped him for that if this was any other time, but you could only mewl and try to coax him closer.

“Lay down for me, princess…” he murmured, rolling up his sleeves after they had fallen- like a gentleman.

And while you did as he said, you shook your head, “No…I need-“ you gasped, clutching at your stomach like someone had stomped their full weight onto it.

“Shh…deep breaths, sweetheart. Alright? Focus on my voice…can you take a deep breath for me?” He cooed, stroking the skin of your legs and he tried to soothe you.

You did focus on his voice, but your body only screamed with more need…not that you were shocked- that man could charm the panties off a nun with just a few words…the bastard.

You felt his hands on your thighs, and you knew what he thought you needed. And while this might have excited anyone else, you felt tears in your eyes. “No…not…no-“ you breathed out.

Paul looked up at you then, halting his path, “What do you mean?” He asked, then added cheekily, “You’ve never complained about my hands before.”

A lie.

…a half lie.

You rolled your eyes, and sat up; his little smile deepened like he thought he was right.

“I need you to cum inside me.” You said bluntly, and evidently it was blunt enough as you were given the gift of seeing Father Paul Hill, or whatever his name was, look taken aback. It was only fair though, this was a senior citizen given a chance at life again- and a man of the cloth. You were fairly certain no one had told him he had to cum in them for…well…ever.

“You need…” he started, the smile he had been dawning dropped into a pensive line; eyes flickering from where his hands were up to where your sweater barely covered your panties then to his own hardening cock as he beat your statement through his own brain.

You cried out again; bringing your knees up to your chest as your body did anything to alleviate this cursed time that you were forced through. Your back hit the bed, and any care you had about him having a full view of your throbbing cunt went straight out the old window beside you.

“I- please! Just- I can’t…” you begged, forcing your eyes open, “Don’t- fuck…don’t think I would ask this if I didn’t need to.” You gritted out, still determined for him to know that this wasn’t you metaphorically rolling over for him from here on out.

The sounds of your pleas were music to his ears; a small smile tugged at his beautiful but shocked mouth for a moment before he seemed to collect himself. Father Paul blinked a few times before he let his gaze drop down to your thighs once more, now receiving a full view of what an absolute mess you were. Your panties were saturated, as were your thighs and the bed under you. He could smell the sickly sweetness of your heat…intoxicating.

“Tell me again.” He said, a little more command to his tone now that he knew exactly what you needed…and just how pathetically desperate you were in need for it.

Your eyes went wide at his audacity, but the closer he was, and the longer he didn’t touch you, the more violent the spasms became. “I ne- fuck… I need you to c-cum in me-“ you managed to get out, “Please…” tears fell from your eyes, “It’s the- the only thing that’ll make it stop.”

The Monsignor leaned over to where your legs were bent up to your stomach, and let his fingers graze your calve, “You need me?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive but your mouth was still faithful. “I need someone to fucking cum in me! If you don’t do it then I’ll- fuck…I’ll be more than h-happy to go find that nice Sheriff down the r-road!”

Your statement gave Paul pause. His gaze went from soaking up your condition and words to holding your stare like he might hurt you. Father Paul’s hands clenched and unclenched as he let your words sink in.

No.

No you were going to need him.

Not just someone.

Him.

And he was going to make sure you knew it.

“I’d like to see you attempt that journey, little one.” He sighed, but while his tone was still as infuriatingly even and calm as it settled in your sensitive ears, those predatory eyes of his were locked on your every minute detail. His feather-light stroking turned into his huge hands wrapping around your calve and gently pulling it down and away from your torso so that your feet lay flat but your knees were still bent; repeating the action for the other leg, “I’ll even remove that collar around your neck if you wish to leave and find your pleasure in another man besides myself.”

You watched his every movement, scared that if you breathed too hard he would snap…and whatever that might entail. His skin against yours continued to make every nerve in you throb, you didn’t care that he was barely alive and stank of musty wood.

When you didn’t speak, Father Paul tilted his head to the side, and reached up to where the leather was fastened around your neck. The buckle came undone easily enough for him; his dark eyes held yours as he did so, silently daring you to go.

The collar landed with a thud on the floor, and with nothing keeping you there, you suddenly felt very small.

The Monsignor sucked in a breath, “I could be wrong, but I think you were lying…weren’t you?” He murmured, easing a hand down your thigh as they remained spread for him, “I have no doubt that you might be able to find what you require in another male, but I don’t think you want to…do you?”

Your eye twitched as they flicked between his slowly descending hand and his heavy gaze. Your core was positively throbbing, and you couldn’t deny now painfully excited your body was as his hand crept closer and closer to where it needed attention.

Pathetic.

You felt completely and utterly pathetic.

And you knew you looked it too because there was that god damned pitiful look in those big puppy dog eyes of his…you wondered if he had worked on that wet-dog look for his whole life.

Not that you had any time to dwell on the idiotic thought as he kissed your knee gently; his hand was at the elastic of your saturated panties, just stroking the edge. Coaxing an answer out of you.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” His low voice became a purr that vibrated inside you. Father Paul gripped your panties and dragged them down your legs before laying them neatly on the mattress.

With the cold air against you now, you shivered, and unconsciously rolled your hips against nothing. Your mind began to go hazy again, but you were snapped back to the room around you when there was a harsh smack to your thigh.

“Manners, little one.” He said, staring at you expectantly.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an answer, so you pursed your lips and stared back.

He sighed and shook his head before stuffing two of his long fingers inside you without warning, and you gasped loudly. “I asked you if you really wanted to go. I expect an-“ he curled them just right the hit the spongy patch inside you,”- answer.” But the only thing he received was a scream from you as you arched your back and tears streamed down your cheeks at the stimulation.

Knowing he would get nowhere with giving you what you needed until you answered him, he withdrew his hand and sucked your slick from his fingers, and he sat back patiently.

Your hips bucked and tried to follow him, desperate to have something inside you, but he folded his hands carefully in his lap and stared at you passively.

It felt like your blood and every possible emotion inside you welled up from your toes all the way to your mouth, and your eyes; hot, fresh tears cascaded down your flushed cheeks.

“No- no I don’t- plea-please I just need…I’ll stay!” You babbled, mind completely snapped.

Father Paul tilted his head like he might to a child not having its way. A tantrum if you will.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me then? We don’t want you misbehaving do we?” He chided you.

You shook your head, though it looked more akin to thrashing. “I’ll be g-good!” You cried.

The Monsignor grinned and patted your leg.

“That wasn’t so hard now was it? Spread those legs for me.” He purred, shifting closer to kneel by your feet. His eyes were trained on you once again, as he slowly and deliberately unbuckled his belt. You did as he asked, and spread your legs even further to accommodate his size, but his calculated movements to open his pants were so slow that you started to cry even harder.

This truly was pure torture.

Without thinking, you sat up and looked up at the Monsignor for permission to finish the job. He gazed down at you fondly, and nodded encouragingly to you like you had seen him do to newcomers at the church when they first took communion. Not that any of that mattered. Your hands shook, but you still managed to pull the zipper down and go to reach for him before his hand was wrapped around your wrist with a startling speed.

“Lay back, Little one.” Father Paul muttered, nodding to the pillows behind you.

You fell back with a thud and rubbed your knees together as he drew himself out and held your stare. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock as it sat heavy in his hand.

Father Paul held himself back for a few moments, just basking in the heavy scent of your need, your shining face, glassy eyes and swollen lips…you truly were a work of art in every way down to your soft curves. He knew you were begging him, he heard you, but that moment was something he would remember for a very, very long time, and he wasn’t about to let it be ruined by anything so trivial as impatience and greed. The man stroked himself to the sight of you.

“Please- ah…please Father…”

His trance was snipped away when he heard those words from you. You. You had just said that.

It seemed you were both a little lost from your plea, but he was quick to hold that moment; Father Paul blinked, then before you could beg him further, his weight was holding you down. His free hand was around your throat, and his hips were heavy against yours. “Again.” He purred, running his nose down your cheek.

A hot blush warmed your cheeks.

“Please father…” you whispered out, legs trying to lock around him. There was something addictive about the way your vision was marked with stars from the little air he was allowing you to have.

“Louder.” He said, more commanding.

“Please father.” You cried out, “Please please please!”

“There she is…that’s it little one…beg for your father.” Father Paul grinned and ran the head of his cock through the thick layer of slick that coated your needy pussy; you nearly screamed with need at the feeling. He took one last look at you, catching your eyes with his before he stuffed the swollen tip of his long cock inside you.

A silent scream opened your mouth as he fucked himself into you; he cooed to you, telling you how well you were doing when he paused for a moment. You were tightening around him and pulsing and twitching and…you were coming. He wasn’t even fully inside you, let alone thrusting into you, and your tight, little pussy was coming on his cock like a virgin.

“That’s it…it just felt too good didn’t it?” He murmured, kissing down your shoulder until your sweater didn’t allow him to. It seemed you read his mind, as you were struggling to get the fabric off of your body the next second, needing to feel more of him. Father Paul chuckled, still rolling his hips into you until he was flush with your body.

At his words, you nodded unabashedly as you rode out your high. Your entire body was shaking under him, and Father Paul found it strangely addictive. He stored each detail in the back of his clear mind for another time, savouring it; he almost teased you right there about coming so fast for him…but he’d rather not taint such a special time. Having you completely at his mercy, and begging him for his attention was all he wanted…carnally.

Having your tight heat envelope him all at once was nearly too much for him to handle. Father Paul felt as if his restraint might completely snap in two if he didn’t reel himself in; focus on the famous self control that he so loathed but admired in himself.

Your hands were digging into his shoulders as you tried to pull him even closer, his chest weighing down on you and hips barely pulling away from you as he thrust into you so evenly. So patient.

But it wasn’t enough.

Having him inside you wasn’t enough.

Having his skin against yours wasn’t enough.

Having his cock jutting against your cervix wasn’t enough.

You needed more, so much more.

“Har-harder-“ you squeaked out, humping your hips against him as he rocked into you like a lover might.

Paul pulled away from your chest where he had been kissing gently, and bumped your nose with his- his breath fanning across your face. “What was that?” He said.

“I need-need it harder…please- I can’t…i need you to - anything I’ll do anything just-“ your words lost their coherency as his cock stretched you and stroked you so perfectly…you hated how perfect it felt. If nature allowed it you would have him just do that all day- at least that was what your in-heat mind told you.

“You need it harder, little one?” He cooed, the condescension not lost on you but you were too far gone to care, so you nodded. He breathed out through his nose like you had just confirmed something he had been waiting for, and he took a moment before he nodded with you.

He waited until you almost asked him again before he snapped his hips against yours harshly, and your scream was intoxicating. Father Paul continued his brutal pace, and as he felt you grow tighter again, he felt his restraint slip. He pulled away from leaning over you to grasp your thighs that had locks around his waist and bring them to meet your chest, bending you in half; he shifted to lock them in place, moving his legs on either side of your hips, making sure you stayed open for him whether you liked it or not.

The Monsignor could feel himself getting closer as he gazed down at your dazed face- a silent moan on your lips. He watched the bulge in your navel each time he thrust into you, his cock threatening to burst through your cervix. You needed him to breed you? He was going to breed you.

He picked up his pace, only the sound of his skin on yours and panting in the air around you. God he could practically taste you on his tongue-

You reached up at grabbed his shoulder again before pressing your lips against his, kissing him so sloppily but desperately. Teeth clanking against eachother and lips bruising but fuck you needed it.

More.

As he rutted into you, you humped his cock back, seeking out any friction as your second orgasm mounted even harder than the first.

You felt his cock pulse strongly inside you, and he pushed inside you as hard as he could as he fucked himself inside your dripping cunt; the tip of his cock pressed painfully against your cervix until you swore if might go inside, then you felt it. A tiny wave of relief. Father Paul shuttered and moaned almost as desperately as you; his cock flooding your insides with his cum. Hot spurts of warmth filled your womb, and you felt all tingly.

Finally, he slowed, but when he went to pull from you, you mewled and broke your filthy kiss to shake your head, “No! No-nonono please don’t it- it still h-hurts…need more…please.” You babbled.

The Monsignor panted, but did as you asked and stayed inside you. He leaned down to your lips again, taking full advantage of your need for him; he slipped his tongue inside, and moaned when he felt yours caress his until you were licking his canines. A low groan escaped him then, the feeling of you touching those sensitive teeth sent shockwaves down his spine to his groin.

Never would he have thought that he could get erect again so fast, but there he was already feeling himself swell inside your tight little cum-soaked pussy.

“Yes! Yes please again, pleasepleaseplease!” You whimpered, already rocking your hips greedily like you were trying to jerk him to full erection with your cunt.

At this point you didn’t care if you came- you just needed him to. You needed to feel your womb swell with his sticky cum so badly you cried.

Father Paul absentmindedly began to roll his hips again as he took your hands in his and pinned them against the bed to completely immobilize you- and you let him.

“How’s my little patient doing, hm?” He hummed, kissing down your cheek to your neck. Anywhere he could reach to feel your blood pumping through your veins under his lips.

“I need m-more…still hu-hur -hurts. Please…” You tilted your head to give him better access to your skin.

He hummed again, now feeling his cock growing painfully hard from the slow thrusts inside you.

“Father Paul please…” you whimpered so pathetically, “Breed me- need your cum…ple- ah! Please!”

“Such a greedy thing aren’t you?”

You didn’t care. You nodded and met his thrusts as they grew harsher until the bed was being shoved into the wall.

“Whatever shall I do with you? Hm? I don’t think being bred is going to do anything is it? You’ll come crawling back to me begging for more…” he grinned devilishly at the thought.

You just nodded, aching your back up into him. You could barely even make out words anymore- it was all just an seductive, low hum that make your brain dizzy with need. You had wondered idly before if you could come from the man’s voice alone…and you were about halfway there already in your weakened state.

You were about to murmur out so more nonsense, but the air was knocked out of your lungs when he thrust in you particularly hard. If it weren’t for your heat, you would have screamed in pain, but in that moment it was euphoric.

“More!” You cried, turning your head to the side.

Seeing your throat so exposed made something stir in Father Paul. He could sense your warm blood, like it was teasing him. He ran his tongue along your jugular, and heeded your pleas; driving the tip of his cock as deep inside you as he could over and over.

It all became too much, and Father Paul pulled out, flipped you over and stuffed himself back inside you before you could even gasp. The intrusion made your back arch as you came without warning as soon as he was inside you again. You sobbed as your walls constricted around him, making it even harder for him to thrust into your vice-like pussy. The overstimulation was too much, but the pain was worse, so you bit into another pillow and let him continue to do exactly as you had asked.

The Monsignor lifted your hips high to match his and pushed your upper body further into the pillows, leaving you to grasp at whatever material you could like a lifeline. The Monsignor’s massive hand gripped your hips so tightly as he abused your insides harder and harder, that you could feel bruises already forming.

In this position, your eyes rolled back as he had his way with you, and you knew you were drooling; taking everything he gave you as your mind was completely fucked out. Every nerve in your body was on fire, but now with so much agonizing pleasure that you thought you would black out.

Father Paul let go of one of your hips momentarily to reach into the pocket of his ruined jeans; a slight smirk on his face as he produced his rosary.

“That’s it, little one…that’s my good girl.” He panted- dark curls falling completely down onto his forehead, and clothes tight with sweat as he smoothed his rosary-wrapped hand down your bare back until his fingers were curling around your throat. The beads of the holy item cut into your skin as his palm tightened around your neck- the metal surly leaving deep marks and light cuts that you would later curse him for. But in that moment you might have begged him to wrap you in a bed of thorns.

The Monsignor’s cock was overwhelmingly stroking your sensitive spots as he filled you so well, and you knew you were going to cum again whether you liked it or not. You babbled incoherently to try and tell him, but nothing understandable came out between your lose tongue and his grip on your throat. Paul breathed out a laugh, and grinned at you; a fucked-out mess or not, you were beautiful. Your face twisted in pleasure, and soft body on display for him-

“F-fuuuck- I’m…Father I’m g-go-onna I’m cu-“ you cried out into the pillow below your cheek with what little breath you could get.

Seeing you fall apart from such a submissive position did not prepare the Father for how much pleasure it would bring him- as you gripped his cock again, he couldn’t help but fuck into you even harder- forcing you to take him no matter how tight you were.

But as you clenched and drenched him with your slickness again, he felt himself come undone faster than he could comprehend. It seemed you could feel every pulse of his cock as soon as he did, because you were thrusting your hips to meet his, albeit feebly, and you began your incomprehensible speech again.

Not that Father Paul needed you to tell him what to do. He couldn’t stand to pull out more than an inch as he chased after his high until he was emptying himself inside you again. He leaned fully over you, removing his hand from your neck and placing both palms over yours as your belly swelled further, greedily swallowing everything he gave you.

“Such a good girl…my good girl…you-you’re doing so well.” He murmured into your back, and you whined at the praise as it only added to your need to please him and preen in his adoration, “Glory be…glory be, sweet girl.”

As you both came down from your highs, the air was thick. Both of you panted, and groaned and your bodies still shook from pleasure; your fingers ached from gripping the bedsheets so tightly, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as the agony under your skin had begun to diminish. Father Paul slowly released your hands, and sat up before gently pulling himself from you and helping you to lay on the bed.

“N-no I need y…you to st-ay inside…” you murmured, not able to put up any kind of fight.

“Shh…I know…just rest for a moment princess.” He cooed to you as he placed a pillow under your hips to keep you sufficiently full of his cum.

You nodded lazily and laid there, limp

Father Paul watched you- your heavy breathing, the roll of a bead of sweat on your stomach, your relaxed muscles, the beat of your heart that made your body pulse.

Beautiful.

If only you weren’t so complacent and volatile everyday, and instead opted for more…domestication.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He purred, laying down beside you. He kissed your shoulder, and petted your sweaty hair out of your face; his touch was beyond welcome, and you couldn’t help nuzzling into his palm excitedly.

A content sigh was the only noise you could make for a moment, then your tried your hoarse throat, “Mmm….b…bet-tter…s-still sore…but nice..’n full.” You breathed out.

Father Paul smiled briefly, and nodded, then traced the marks his rosary had left on your neck- little red dots that were quickly darkening. He sighed and let his fingers wander down to your breasts, to your stomach, back up along your ribs which made you twitch. The scent you emitted was still so delicious to him, especially now with the smell of both of your pleasure heavy in the air. He could practically taste it.

Taste.

While the Monsignor was not one to take without permission usually, the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck as you lay limp was all too strong.

He was hungry…painfully hungry. While his lust was sated, the itch in the back of his throat made him thirst.

The more he thought of it, the further he felt his control slip away, deeper and deeper into his mind. His breathing grew heavier until he was panting to smell you, and his hands wandered across your bruised skin greedily. But when he expected you to push him away and call him a self-righteous fraud or something similar, you only mewled and moved closer into his grasp.

“My…I need…” he panted, losing his thoughts to his need.

You nodded and rolled your hips as his fingers dipped inside the mess between your thighs. Not that you knew what he was really talking about, but so long as he was the one making your pain go away and touching you, you would do anything to make sure he didn’t stop.

“Will…will you let m-me-….please…” Father Paul ran his mouth along your shoulder, and curled his fingers inside you, stroking you so carefully.

“A-anyth-ing.” You replied, just as desperate as your weak thighs began to shake and your pussy tightened around his fingers.

He breathed out a sigh of relief- a sudden rush of air against your skin that made you shiver- your nipples painfully pert and goosebumps popping up all across your body.

“Such a…good girl…my good girl..”his rich voice dipped into a low rumble in his chest as he neared your neck- his hearing going quiet bit by bit until all he could hear was the pulsing of your blood. That sweetness he so craved…had craved since he first laid eyes on you. His free hand came up to stroke your jaw and turn your face away from him so he could run his nose along your artery, thumb caressing your chin.

“F-father P-“

His sharp canines entered your neck like a knife through butter.

If it had been possible for your to scream, you would have, but the simple fact was that he had brought you to another climax just as he bit into you…and your exhausted body could not summon more than a breathy moan.

Evidently the noise you made was echoed by the Monsignor as he stroked you through your orgasm, and drank from you greedily. You were the best vessel he had had…the weight and taste of your blood was like no other. Sweet and pungent that make his mind so clear.

He groaned and hummed against your skin as he slowed, and drew his canines from you; gently lapping at the skin there. Then came the kisses, and the soft murmurs that you couldn’t make sense of in your daze but you knew were sweet by the way he wildre his fingers from you and stroked your stomach.

Everything felt so disorienting and off kilter but in a way that might have made you giggle if you weren’t so tired.

Then you felt movement beside you and you managed to turn your head to watch Father Paul almost carelessly remove his white collar and unbutton his shirt. Your fingers itched to rip the garment off of him and burn it, but you opted instead to whistle weakly. It earned you a low chuckle and shake of his head.

You watched him remove piece by piece of his clothes until he was just as bare as you. Then, he gently picked you up like a doll and sat with you in his lap- you hadn’t even registered that he get gotten hard until he eased you down onto him. This time, your mouth released a long, very audible moan; having him back inside you was pure bliss. Father Paul brought your arms up to his shoulders for you, knowing you would likely lull onto his torso if you had nothing to brace yourself with. And then when you stared up at him, you didn’t stop yourself from kissing him when your brain told you to.

He sighed gently against your lips, and took your hips in hand to guide you up and down his length. He could feel your cum-drenched thighs as some began to leak out of you; so perfectly bred.

You mewled into the kiss as you stretched around him, and let him use you. Your little pussy sufficiently abused.

“That feels good doesn’t it? Right there…I’ve got you…” he cooed to you, kissing tears that fell.

When his lips came back to yours, you captured them, kissing him greedily. It was a mess, but you couldn’t get enough. Your tongues lapped at each other, and his teeth caught your lips as you rocked your hips in a desperate need to feel him inside you. His thrusts were so much more gentle, and while you had been sobbing for as much brutality as possible earlier…the tenderness made tears fall from your eyes for different reasons. It was a gentleness you hadn’t felt before in your life…having not had anyone to come to your aid during your heat before, and no one to warm your bed at all…having Paul hold you and kiss you like he needed you as much as you needed him, if only for that moment, was euphoric.

“Please- ah…please father-“ You gasped against his lips as you felt him already twitching inside you. His entire body was pulsing, and you knew he was close. The Monsignor was just as overstimulated as you, and now with your wrapped around him like he always wanted, he couldn’t fight his desires. He had been fighting his orgasm off, but hearing you pant out his title so sweetly sounded more like a lullaby from an angel rather than the sinful need of a young woman.

She didn’t care if she came this last time, she could barely tell if she was or wasn’t anymore with such ecstasy washing through her. But once she uttered those words, and she felt his thrusts stutter again, she found whatever strength she had in her to help him through it; rolling and grinding against him desperately.

“T-thats it…that’s it- Christ that’s it…my perfect girl…” he groaned unabashedly now, holding you to him as he came inside you. With one last thrust, he pushed his cock deep against your cervix just has he had each time, and you sighed as the final bits of pain washed away, and left you feeling full, warm, and more tired that you ever had been.

You slumped against him, completely boneless.

Exhausted.

Your heart beat aggressively against his chest as you nestled into his embrace and placed your face in the crook of his neck. He panted softly, and wrapped his arms around you to keep you there.

“Are you alright, my sweet?” He murmured into your ear. The low rumble of it warmed you.

“Mhmm…” you mumbled; vision going blurry and dark as sleep began to set in.

“Rest.” He said, kissing your head, and lifting one of your wrists to his lips as well.

You disliked listening to Father Paul, but your fight had left hours ago. And as he cradled you, and wrapped you in safety, you couldn’t protest.

Sleep took you seconds later, and Paul grinned to himself. He knew you would go back to hating him in the morning when you awoke; it wouldn’t matter that he took you and laid you on the couch as he cleaned and re-made the bed with fresh sheets and new pillows.

Or that he washed you as best as he could without waking you.

Or that he placed you in said bed all wrapped in a blanket with a towel under you.

It wouldn’t matter.

And he was alright with that.

#midnight mass #father paul hill #father paul #father john pruitt #father Paul hill x reader #hamish linklater #commission #midnight mass fanfiction #Paul hill x reader

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mimisempai · 1 year ago

Text

Jane Austen or Richard Curtis, in the end it is all love

Summary

Furfur, still reeling from not being recognized by Crowley, decides to take revenge on the demon with the help of the new Duke of Hell, Shax, who still hasn't gotten over her defeat at the hands of Aziraphale.

Crowley and Aziraphale, unaware of what's going on, have gone to dinner at the Ritz. But a surprise awaits them when they return.

Notes

Just in case, spoiler for the end of 4 weddings and 1 funeral, and for Pride and Prejudice

On Ao3

Rating G - 1833 words

"Shax, I request permission to go to Earth and use a 30-minute miracle blocker."

On her throne, the Duke of Hell crossed her legs and, leaning forward slightly, she asked, squinting her eyes, "Are we up to no good? That would be perfect, actually."

Furfur rubbed his hands together and conspiratorially replied, "Well, since that traitorous demon Crowley doesn't remember who I am, I thought it might be a good idea to show him by disrupting his quiet little life a bit."

Shax asked in a suave voice, "Would that mean disrupting his emotional support's life as well?"

Furfur licked his lips with relish before answering, "Absolutely."

Shax's smile turned carnivorous as she replied, "Permission granted."

Furfur thanked her with a nod and left the room, a mischievous smile on his lips. Crowley and the angel Azira-thing would regret making a fool of him. All he had to do was hide near the bookshop and wait.

*********

Aziraphale got out of the Bentley and said in a satisfied tone, "Well, that was scrumptious again."

Crowley circled the car and joined him, chuckling slightly, "Will you ever say anything else after a meal at the Ritz?"

They started toward the bookshop and Aziraphale nudged him on the shoulder, "If it's delicious, why would I say anything else?"

It was rare for the street to be so deserted despite the late hour, so Crowley took the opportunity to slide his hand down Aziraphale's arm to intertwine his fingers with the angel's, and thus they walked the few yards to the bookshop.

Aziraphale let go of the demon's hand long enough to open the door.

He put the key in the lock, but to his surprise, he couldn't turn it.

"Hm?"

He tried to open it, thinking - though it was unthinkable - that he might have forgotten to lock the door, but he couldn't open it either.

"What's going on, angel?"

Crowley had come closer and Aziraphale replied, "I can't open the door, it's like it's stuck.

"Shall I try a little magic?"

Crowley moved his hand slightly, but neither the door nor the key moved.

"Angel, you try it, it doesn't work for me."

Aziraphale tried the same to no avail.

Crowley frowned, "That reminds me..."

Aziraphale nodded and rolled his eyes, muttering, "Me too."

Crowley sighed, "Furfur..." he walked out into the street and after a few meters he realized that there was an invisible dome of protection all around the store up to the Bentley and that it was impossible to get through.

He shouted, "Idiot Furfur! What's your plan now that we're locked out?"

All he got was a thunderous noise and the rain began to pour down. He felt himself being pulled back.

"Come on, Crowley, let's get to safety in the Bentley."

Aziraphale had grabbed his hand and was leading him toward the Bentley. But just as they were about to open the car doors on both sides, they realized that they were locked as well, depriving them of the valuable shelter of the Bentley.

"Aaaarrrgh!" shouted Crowley.

Aziraphale replied, "Come on, let's at least take cover in the doorway of the shop."

They both ran to it and, clinging to the door as best they could, looked at each other, both soaking wet, and laughed.

Aziraphale asked, "What do we do now?"

Crowley replied, "We wait. Furfur probably used a miracle blocker, and those can't last more than half an hour. So at worst, we've got another twenty minutes to wait like this."

Aziraphale raised his hand, pushing back a soaked lock of red hair that fell across the demon's forehead, and asked with an amused smile, "Weren't you the one who told me about romantic love scenes in the rain?"

Crowley grumbled, "Mocking is easy..."

Aziraphale shook his head, "I'm not mocking, but I'm curious to see how it works now. Tell me about it."

Seeing the demon's puzzled expression, he added, "At least it'll help pass the time."

"Okay... " Crowley replied, "Let me tell you about one of my favorites. It's about a guy named Charles and his group of friends who seem to be down on their luck in love. And so Charles meets an American named Carrie at a wedding, and he thinks his luck may have run out. But after spending the night together, Carrie returns to the States, putting an end to what might have been. As Charles and Carrie's paths continue to cross - at a handful of weddings and a funeral - he comes to believe that they're meant to be together, even if the timing always seems wrong."

Aziraphale interrupted, "Reminds me of someone."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, "Really, angel? Anyway, at the end of the movie, just as he is about to get married, he changes his mind, and when he gets home, she is standing at his door in the rain. She's soaking wet, and even though he asks her to come in, she says she couldn't be wetter anyway, so he comes out. It's silly, but there you go. And then he declares his love for her."

Aziraphale asked softly, "And what does he say to her?"

Crowley told him gently, "That he stood at the altar and realized that the person he loved wasn't under the veil, but there, in front of him, in the rain."

Aziraphale murmured, "Promising..."

Crowley replied, "I know, right?"

"What next?"

"He told her he loved her from the first second he met her."

Aziraphale interjected again, "That reminds me of someone again."

Crowley chuckled, "This time I agree. Finally, they decide to go home, when suddenly he turns to her and says..."

Crowley took Aziraphale's face in his hands and continued quietly, "Let me ask you one thing. Do you think, after we've dried off, after we've spent lots more time together, you might agree not to marry me? And do you think not being married to me might be something you could consider for the rest of your life? Do you?"

Aziraphale gasped and said, "Gee, that's so romantic."

Crowley repeated, "Do you, Angel?"

Aziraphale smiled softly and replied, "While 'not marrying you' is debatable, I say yes as long as it means we are together for the rest of our lives."

Crowley smiled and leaned forward to press his lips to Aziraphale's. And despite the circumstances, nothing could have been more romantic than that moment.

As they parted to catch their breath, Aziraphale murmured, "Did you feel it?"

Crowley nodded, "Yes, I think the magic is back."

Aziraphale turned to the door and put the key in the lock. The key turned and the door opened.

The angel and the demon rushed inside, not noticing that the rain had also stopped and that people were walking in the streets again.

********

From the roof of the building opposite the bookstore, Furfur frowned, "What? The half hour isn't over yet!"

"You've seen it, Furfur, it's going to take a lot more than a few tricks to affect them."

Furfur grumbled in disgust.

Shax whispered in his ear, "But don't worry, our time will come and they won't know what hit them."

*********

Aziraphale and Crowley were dry now. But the feeling of dampness and the chill of the rain didn't go away so easily, so they sat together on the sofa, their knees covered with a plaid blanket and a glass of scotch in their hands.

After taking a sip, Aziraphale asked, "Do you think we should be worried?"

Crowley shook his head, "As Beelzebub said, they're understaffed at the moment, and besides, Shax has to get her authority accepted, so she can't allow this kind of frivolity so often."

He took another sip of scotch and then said with a mischievous smile on his lips, "Angel, you've seen how effective my romantic movies are, and what about me? Am I going to get a demonstration of Jane Austen's effectiveness?"

The angel wasn't one to turn down a challenge, so he put down his glass and turned to the demon.

"Since you didn't know that Jane Austen wrote books, you've probably never heard of Pride and Prejudice, have you?"

Crowley also put down his glass and replied, "Obviously."

Aziraphale nodded and continued, "Well, to make a long story short, Elizabeth Bennet lives with her mother, father and sisters in the English countryside. As the eldest, she is under increasing pressure from her parents to marry. When she is introduced to the handsome, upper-class Mr. Darcy, sparks fly. Although the chemistry between the two is obvious, Darcy's overly reserved nature threatens their budding relationship. Anyway, there's a lot going on, so let's move on to my favorite scene and then I'll tell you about the movie, which I find so lovely."

Crowley watched in amusement as Aziraphale became as excited as the day he was preparing for the ball as the angel continued, "Mr. Darcy arrives and asks Elizabeth how she is, calling her 'my dear.' Elizabeth doesn't want him to call her that because that's what her father calls his mother when he's cross."

Crowley snorted and interrupted the angel's story, "It's not looking good for Mr. Darcy."

Aziraphale tapped him on the arm and said, "Don't interrupt me! And so Mr. Darcy asked her what endearments he might use, and Elizabeth replied, he shall call her Lizzie for every day. My Pearl for Sundays, and Goddess Divine - but only on special occasions. And here comes my favorite part, Mr. Darcy asks-"

Crowley interrupted, "And what shall I call you when I'm cross? Mr. Crowley?"

Aziraphale gasped, then exclaimed, "Crowley, don't tell me you've seen the movie?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow and replied, "Well, after hearing you praise Jane's writing talents, I had to do some educating, but not being in the mood to read, I was pleasantly surprised to see that there are several movies. So what do you think? Shall I call you Mr. Crowley on the days I'm cross?"

The angel's face softened as he shook his head, "Oh, no. You can only call me Mr. Crowley when you are entirely and perfectly and incandescently happy."

Crowley took the angel's face in his hands and asked, "And how are you this evening, Mr. Crowley?"

Aziraphale smiled and Crowley murmured, "Mr. Crowley," then pressed a kiss to one of his eyelids.

Aziraphale laughed softly.

Crowley whispered again, "Mr. Crowley," and he kissed the angel's forehead. He went on and on until he had kissed every part of Aziraphale's face.

When he was finished, Aziraphale, his eyes shining, asked him, "So who's better, Richard Curtis or Jane Austen?"

Crowley took both their glasses and gave Aziraphale his, then raised his glass and said, "Let's call it a draw."

Aziraphale nodded and moved his glass closer to the demon's and said quietly, "To happy endings."

Crowley replied, "Or rather, to happy beginnings," clinking his glass with Aziraphale's.

Aziraphale nodded as he took a sip.

Crowley was right.

This was just the beginning, and this was happy.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers

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