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ozzgin · 2 months

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Hello!

🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.

Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?

I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?

The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.

Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually

Sincerely

-🌟

Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;

Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)

Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.

“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.

“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”

“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.

The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.

The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.

You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.

You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.

And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.

This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.

“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”

You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.

“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.

Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.

Unfortunately, there is no time for that.

The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.

The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.

“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.

“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”

He stares in confusion.

“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.

“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”

Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.

“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”

He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.

“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.

This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.

“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”

What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.

“Sure. I know a better place, though.”

Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.

“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”

“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”

“Excuse me?”

Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.

“H-hey, what did you mean-”

The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.

You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.

“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.

The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.

“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.

Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.

“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”

Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.

Your bodyguard truly knows you best.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere bodyguard #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere fic #yandere male #obsessive love #female reader

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ofloveandstardust · 2 months

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A/N: I saw that Cain and Abel aren't like present in the show and I know they're technically Adam and Eve's kids, but let me have this please— I just wanna gush about this since it's been invading my mind.

cw: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader is called wife/mama/mommy/mother)

Imagine: Being Adam's wife and having two sons with him.

I can definitely see him being excited over having sons. Like, hell yeah! But but but also— I have this feeling in my gut that he'd be okay with being a girl dad, sooo after having your sons he's just like "Wifey, Sugartits, Babycakes—" Any nickname under the sun until you finally ask him what he wants and he just says he wants a daughter.

You can't tell me he didn't name Abel— and 💀 It's even funnier since Abel does have a little more resemblance of his father than Cain does. Cain was named by you and looks more like you. However, you can say his attitude is similar to Adam's. I can see them both having Adam's eyes when thinking up of how they'd look, but I'm leaving things up in the air. Just for this, because I think it'd be neat, the boys are twins. Cain is the older twin while Abel is the younger one.

Cain is kind of a menace...but still a good kid. He always pulls that "Because I'm the oldest" card with Abel and if he ever whacked his brother and he started crying, Cain immediately does that thing where the sibling just panics and stops them from crying or else he's getting in trouble with mama and papa. He teases his younger brother, but will get upset if anyone tries to bully Abel. Oh, but the biggest menace he is towards? Adam. Cain doesn't hate his dad at all. No, he just prefers you more and lowkey is a mama's boy. Adam can have Mr. Perfect (Abel), but he at least has mama.

Then Adam just straight up has beef with his own son 💀 Because Cain takes up your time and he swears the little shit is taunting him when you're not looking. Cain comes up when you and Adam are kissing or anything like that, holding his hands up like, "I want Mama's kisses too... 🥺" You can't resist because that's your baby and he's so adorable. There's this stare down between Adam and Cain...meanwhile Abel, being the good bean that he is, waddles towards you all and goes, "Mama! Papa! Look what I drew! :D" and it's just a sweet little drawing of him, his brother, you and Adam.

Speaking of Abel, he's a good boi. Cain calls him Mr. Perfect sometimes because Abel has some natural talent. He's especially good with music, much to Adam's delight. Still, he looks up to his brother and despite Cain's jealousy, they do get along nicely. They have this little game where they're building their own city and decide over several elements of it. Abel somehow always brings sheep into the mix, but his brother isn't complaining.

Abel doesn't play favorites and says he loves you and Adam equally. He always wants to make sure the two of you are present at the same time when showing his accomplishments or what he's found. Speaking of which, he has special interests that last for a while until he moves on to another one or some just last a very long time. An example would be sheep, as mentioned before. He even has a lamb plushie (I can see him watching Lamb Chop's Play Along and loving the show). Cain knows how precious this little lamb is to Abel and will raise chaos if it ever gets lost or stolen (he calls the plush "The Chosen").

Here's a funny little thing: the boys not recognizing Adam in the mask he wears. From the day they were born, they always saw their father without his mask and have grown used to seeing his actual face. One day, they ask you where he was and you tell them it's work related but he'll be back to teach them some new songs. Just imagine Adam coming back, calling out that he's home, which cause the boys to rush up to him. Then they just stop because... "Mama, who's this stranger in our house!?" Abel literally starts crying— saying this isn't papa. Meanwhile Cain's mind immediately says violence is the answer (thanks, Adam). You have to calm both boys down and explain to them about the mask.

Flight lessons are stressful. It all started when Cain began jumping off of the furniture and escalated to him jumping off the bunk bed (because it'd be adorable for them to have bunk beds). So, it seems like it was time to show the boys how to use their wings. It's harder than it looks. Abel isn't okay with jumping off from anywhere unless Cain is going to jump with him. Fine with his brother because he enjoys doing this. Eventually, they're able to fly and it's a joy! They can fly around Heaven with you and Adam and it's absolutely adorable.

Cain and Abel have different ways to refer to you and Adam. Cain calls Adam 'dad' or 'papa' but does call him 'father' when he's upset or serious. Meanwhile, he calls you 'mama', 'mommy', or 'mom' (mom is more frequent when around others or strangers) and it's rare when he calls you mother. Abel just calls you two mama and papa. He'll only use mother and father if he's around people he doesn't know or meeting for the first time.

I have more thoughts about these little beans such as how they are around Lute (#1 and only Babysitter), Emily (Abel affectionately calls her Auntie Em), Sera and possibly Lucifer and Charlie (because you can't tell me Adam would not brag about having kids 💀). Like, I can see Cain being brutally honest when he first sees Lucifer because he's that type of kid. Will 100% make a comment about the man's height. There's also the fact that both boys are into music like their father. Abel once asked, "So if that's Queen, then who's the King?" when Adam tells them about Queen. Also, I can very much see Cain getting into gardening. If you want more of these then let me know!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel fluff #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel

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strangeshoepatrolbandit-alt · 4 months

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A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing.

Summary: He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're the sacrificial lamb. (What it was like.)

Warnings: Wolf and lamb imagery, mentions of sexual interactions, one of them being Non-Con... I think?("Making love", "fucking", "thrusting".), naivety, mentions of murder and blood, killing Lucy Gray Baird, being a Trophy wife, lies, mentions of breeding, being trapped in a marriage, getting hunted, guns, mentions The Hunger Games, mentions hanging(Sejanus' death), rebellion, being a shell of yourself, being tied up, getting rid of a body(Lucy Gray), toxic relationship, controlling!Coryo, Coriolanus' being 'bony'.

Fem!Reader.

I'm trying something new with my writing.

He lured you in.

He was one of the best Academy students and the only power he had was his name.

He spoke with you over open and discarded books, spewing with his charming words.

Sweet naive you.

He pressed soft kisses to your lips and thrusted in a pattern that made you see stars. Cosmic. Making love.

He was kind to your family, he was kind to your friends. He cared for you.

°•°•°

He was a mentor in the tenth Hunger Games, his tribute was Lucy Gray Baird. He helped her win, cheating for her from behind a screen while you supported him without knowing what he's done.

He was caught, and his punishment was becoming a Peacekeeper. Originally for District 8.

You threw a fit in his bedroom, crying and crying over again, begging the universe to not separate the two of you.

Dependent.

His hands held your face as he looked between both of your eyes, his own going back and forth. Left and right.

"No, you wont." He sounded so firm, but his voice still held the softness he could only have for you. "I'm going to 12. I will make sure to see through with it. You will go to 12."

And like a lamb led to the slaughter, you did.

°•°•°

You watched him beat a man, defending Lucy Gray like she was still his responsibility. You swam in the lake with him, holding onto him and laughing without a care in the world. You broke down with him after Sejanus' death. You stayed in the cabin with him and Lucy Gray.

The three of you planned a future that would get you all killed. You spoke the same words that had your dear friend, Sejanus, hung in front of a galore of witnesses.

Murdered.

Martyr.

You were oblivious to the way Coriolanus was cracking, something finally going off in his brain. He broke down.

He revealed what he's done. He told you both about Sejanus. He's why Sejanus Plinth, Bobbin, and Mayfair are dead.

Backstabber.

Murderer.

Lucy played it cool, keeping her calm as to not draw suspicion.

She grabbed your arm and a basket, making it seem innocent as she told him the two of you were going to pick katniss.

"Lucy Gray," He stared as she opened the door, a bright smile on her face as she gripped you tighter. "It's still raining."

"Well, we're not made out of sugar." And with that, she pulled you out. The two of you walked together until you were out of sight from the cabin windows.

And then you heard him.

Screaming, yelling, gunshots, running.

Cat and mouse.

Snake and bird.

Wolf and lamb.

Lucy Gray was dead beside you, and Coriolanus Snow was her killer. You were on the ground, your lover on top of you, tears spilling from your eyes as you stared at your lifeless friend. Coriolanus' hands dug into the plush of your body while he forced you to stand, holding your wrist with one hand while dragging Lucy with the other.

Back at the cabin, you were bound enough to where you couldn't run, but watching as Coriolanus wrapped up Lucy Gray's body and dumped her in the lake you all swam and laughed in just days before.

"No loose ends." He repeated to you as he forced you into the cabin, tying you to the bed the two of you slept on. "Besides you. But you won't tell anyone, will you?" He asked softly, wiping your tears and pushing back your hair.

You shook your head repeatedly, breathing heavily and staring at him with wide eyes.

"Good." He let out a breath as a smile grew on his face, now caressing one of your cheeks. "Good girl."

He leaned in and kissed you, ridding you of your clothes while you cried. He wasnt sweet. He didn't kiss the tears away, they just seemed to egg him on. This was not making love. He was fucking you while you were vulnerable.

You didn't get to leave Panem. You didn't get to run off and live a fairytale.

Coriolanus brought you back to the Capitol, solidifying you to him by announcing your engagement to him.

He didn't stop. Not even when he moved in with Sejanus' mourning parents, not even when he killed them.

Not even when he became the president, and you the First Lady.

You were both in your twenties, living better than you used to.

Coriolanus was no longer bony, no longer hungry. He no longer wore the clothes his cousin, Tigris, would make him. His hair was no longer buzzed like it was when he was a Peacekeeper, and his personality was different than when he was eighteen.

You're still intimate. You live, work, eat, sleep together. Your womb is warm for his seed. You're married by Panem and Capitol law. But you are not partners. He is the dictator. You're the trophy First Lady. You dress exactly as he likes. You act exactly as he likes. You move exactly as he likes. His word is law. Yours is nothing. And every moment you are his, you wonder what it would be like to not have to dance to his puppet strings.

He lured you in.

Sacrificial lamb.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosas x reader #thg series #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 9 months

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could you do a drabble on bratty sub!jonathan crane? literally on my knees begging you to!!

ALL YOURS ───

jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “…I wanted it to leave a mark: that’s how I knew I loved you. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped…” — ’Marathon’, Louise Glück.

pairing. sub!jonathan crane x reader

summary. jonathan’s been a brat all night. looks like you’ve got some taming to do…

warnings. swearing, p in v, unprotected sex, sextoys/use of dildo (m), oral sex (m), edgeplay, blindfold kink, brat-taming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 3.3k

a/n. anon this idea is genius i love it!!! also this was js supposed to be a blurb & now it’s got 3.3k words😭i apologize LMAO

Entering your shared condo, you pushed Jonathan down to his knees, smack-dab on the wood in the middle of your living room. “What the fuck was that?” you questioned, yanking him by his silk tie to look up at you.

“What was what?” he retorted, pretending to be clueless despite the impish grin that snuck its way onto his plush lips.

You slapped him, lacy black gloves scratching at his thin skin. “I’ve had enough of your bratty fucking behaviour tonight.”

“Then do something about it,” he challenged, piercing his baby blues into you through batted, thick lashes.

“Oh,” you hummed, roughly undoing the silk tie from his neck, tugging his thin glasses off and wrapping the fabric around his eyeline, “I have every intention of doing so.”

Just an hour ago, you and Jonathan had been attending a GothamU charity gala. It was a nice night— save for the fact he spent all of it pushing your buttons, speaking over you, and brushing off your existence to the guests there. “My date?” he’d purr to them, “she’s just my teaching assistant.”

You’d send him your tell-tale warning glares, and he’d stare blankly back at you, respond in his pettiest tone, and continue reducing you to his measly teaching assistant — which, publicly, was who you were to him, but behind closed doors, it was him, pleading on his knees to touch you, to at least catch a whiff of your addicting scent. The man would probably thank-you if you stepped on him and you adored every bit of it.

He was acting out. Some sort of naughty pseudo-revenge on you, making you seem so much smaller than everyone else; making people think he was the big bad wolf and you were his little lamb.

Boy, would they be utterly fucking wrong.

You pulled Jonathan up by the lapel, then shirked numerous clothing articles from his three-piece suit, leaving him in his dress pants. You did the same — not that he could tell — peeling off your lacy gala gloves and throwing them onto your wood credenza, sliding your panties off and decorating your couch with them carelessly. When your hands brushed past the fabric of his crotch, you heard his breath hitch, unable to tell what you were going to do to him with the makeshift blindfold on.

Honestly, with the attitude he had that night? You intended to torture him ‘till there were heavy tears streaming down his face, the only words on his tongue being ones begging for release.

You sunk to your knees, unzipping his thin pants and licking a stripe up his cock — still within his boxers, of course. You heard Jonathan choke, and, looking up at him, you could see him clench his jaw, lips bitten, hands trembling.

But, y’know, the torture bit and all that. So you pressed your wet mouth to his clothed cock, hot tongue dragging across his length; everywhere he needed it most, but with him still shuddering pitifully beneath his boxers. The contact felt good, fuck, your tongue always made him feel good, but he needed more.

You heard Jonathan moan; a whiny, drawn out barely-intelligible plea, because your mouth had soaked the fabric, making it stick to his needy cock. “Fuck, please,” he pleaded, hands fumbling around your shoulders before finding the crown of your head. You wrapped your mouth along his clothed erection, humming in delight at his begging, until: “just fucking suck me off already, please.”

Your mouth stopped their ministrations at once, and all that was left was your hot breath on his twitching dick. “Come again?” you drawled, affronted beyond belief at his audacity.

Jonathan didn’t respond; he knew he’d taken it too far. You got back up, and squeezed his face with your hand. “I didn’t think so,” you growled at him. “Speak like that again and so help me god, I will fuck you ‘till you’re so dumb you’ll be thrown into Arkham.”

He whimpered at the threat — how humiliating it would be to be trapped in the place he was chief of — while squirming under your touch; but you still felt his hard-on roar to life even needier than before, aching near your inner thigh.

“Fuckin’ brat,” you whispered, thumb brushing over his pink bottom lip. His mouth opened immediately, and your finger dipped onto his tongue, trailing deeper until he gagged.

You grinned at his appearance: long gone was the respectable, genius Dr. Crane- now, he was a flushed mess, lips parted as he panted hot, needy breaths, spit leaking down his chin onto his bare chest. Fuck, did he ever look good so undone for you.

Even his tie had slipped slightly off his eyes, and you could see him blink blearily, sweet lashes kissing his high cheekbones and leaving small, teary drops. You tugged the fabric back in place, then dipped your hand into his wet boxers, gripping his thick length tightly and pulling out.

“Why should I make you feel good? Why waste my effort, when you’ll just forget everything, like the stupid little whore you are, huh?”

He keened, holding back his hips from bucking into your hand. “I’m sorry,” he panted raggedly, disrespectful demeanor slipping away in favor of being your little pet, “I’m sorry for tonight—“

“It’s too late to say sorry.” you scolded darkly, other hand coming up to his hair to tug it back and reveal his sensitive adam’s apple. You licked at the spot, then traveled your tongue to just under his jaw, suckling at his pulse.

You drew out a pathetic squeak from him at the action, and you chuckled against his warm skin. “I’ll be good for you,” he promised quickly, “I - I’ll be good for the rest of my life. So… so please,”

“‘Please’ what?”

“Please use me,” he replied shamefully, tone warbling halfway at the vulgarity of the request.

You smirked, then began slowly pumping his long length. Your hand was so tight against him it was like a suction, and he let out several choked moans at the slow friction. Your other hand left his hair, making his head fall limply on his chest, and you fondled his balls, teasing him at first with mere grazes of your fingertips on the flesh, before squeezing them roughly.

“You gonna come?” you asked in a hum when his knees started buckling. “You gonna come just like that, just with my hand?”

“Yes, m’gonna come - gonna come,” he groaned, bucking quickly into your hand as you stroked him faster.

“So pathetic,” you sneered suddenly, dropping his needy cock and watching it bounce on his thigh before springing up against his abdomen again, “didn’t ask for permission. Looks like you’re forgetting your fucking manners.”

At your harsh words and denial of release, Jonathan’s bottom lip trembled, small sniffling sounds coming from him, and you rolled your eyes— the needy bastard was fucking crying.

“M’sorry,” he cried out weakly, “‘m’sorry… just felt so good…”

You watched his tears drip from under the tie down his neck, his shoulders shaking, and you sighed, sinking down to your knees. He was crying, because he fucking knew what it did to you; that his helpless whines made all the right pulses pang in both your chest and your core; that you would give in.

So, you took him in your mouth, hand stroking the bottom of his shaft while your tongue teased and touched the rest; sticky mouth wrapped moistly around him. Unbeknownst to Jonathan, however, is that while you adored his cries, the desire to have him begging was stronger. Thus, your tongue was barely doing anything, just tentatively licking him, too short for him to lose himself, too fast for him not to get overstimulated.

You felt him try to thrust into your mouth, but your free hand gripped his bare thigh tightly. “Don’t move a muscle,” you grunted, and continued by angrily smacking the back of his thigh with your open palm.

Jonathan whimpered helplessly, planting himself firmly in place. With that, you’d set the stage: you left his cock for a moment, quickly sauntering to your bedroom, and pulling something out from a velvet drawstring pouch you kept in your nightstand…

You heard Jonathan cry out for you, devastated like he thought you were gonna leave him teased and needy like this all night — which, you couldn’t blame him, because you had done that before — but no, you weren’t, because you wanted to ruin Jonathan tonight; put him back in his place; remind him who exactly fucking owns him.

When you returned to the living room, he was still standing in the exact same place, but his hands were gripping his thighs with deadly strength, more lustful tears streaming down his face.

“So obedient for me,” you murmured in amusement, getting back on your knees and slipping his weeping cock into your mouth. He gasped, pathetic delight filling his groans at your reappearance as you suckled softly on him.

Jonathan was halfway through a “thank you” before you brought your thick dildo to the seam of his ass. The sudden touch made him flinch, hips bucking up and shoving his cock harshly into your throat.

You choked momentarily, and he panicked: “Oh god, m’sorry, m’so sorry,” he sobbed, mind going fuzzy and blank with your skillful tongue pleasuring him, the tip of your dildo teasing his back entrance.

You laughed around his length, not saying anything and merely sucking him off faster, now pressing the wet dildo tip into his puckered hole. The thought of it entering him made your cunt pulse — you’d turned it on back in the bedroom, intent on getting it wet with your spit so you didn’t torture Jonathan too much, but instead couldn’t resist filling yourself. You’d bounced on the fat thing for a few moments, till it was completely soaked in your wetness, your back arching, cunt itching for release.

Jonathan cried out from the sharp stretch in his hole, and you soothed him with a low hush, slowing your onslaught of pleasure on his cock so he could breathe. Once you heard a strained moan leave his lips, one that was much more desperate, much more raspy, you continued in sucking him off, wedging the rest of the dildo’s length into his tight hole.

“If you come before I let you,” you warned when you felt Jonathan’s thighs clench, his breath catching in his throat and his moans going pitchy, “I won’t fuck you for a month.”

“A month?!” Jonathan questioned with a yelp, which dissolved into a moan when his hole clenched around the dildo’s silicone. “Fuck, hnngh, please, I can’t -- I needa come, but… a month?”

“A month. So be a good little whore, and don’t let go ‘till I tell you to.”

Jonathan whined, but his signs of release faded away, and you rubbed his hip approvingly. You pulled away for a final time, and dragged him by the arm to your couch.

He almost tripped, legs trembling at the pleasure the dildo was sending up his body as it filled him, and it got worse from there: you slipped off his blindfold, and pushed him to sit on the cushy furniture. The dildo pushed that much deeper into his hole, brushing against his prostate and making him choke, before you climbed onto his lap and lined up his leaking head to your entrance.

Jonathan couldn’t help the amalgamation of an overstimulated cry and loud moan that tore out of him: how could he, with the dildo’s fat cockhead flush against his prostate, your plush folds teasing his thoroughly-edged cock, and the withstanding rule not to come.

You gazed softly into his watery blue eyes, which were red-rimmed and lined with pitiful tears. They were silently begging you to let him release, every fiber of his being wanting nothing more but to feel that familiar current run through him at last.

His cheeks were flushed pink, lips bitten between the teeth; expression utterly wrecked, utterly desperate, utterly yours. He knew, just as well as you did, how much he fucking belonged to you: he would let you put a goddamn leash and collar around his neck if you just asked.

Then, you pushed yourself up by the knees and hovered over his cock. You watched his face the whole time you sank down: his face screwed together when his tip peeked into your hole, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull when your took him halfway, his mouth opened and his spit-slicked tongue hung out of it when you bottomed out.

“You’re so - tight,” he observed gingerly with a whimper. His gaze was glassy, heated mewls leaving his lips; the only thing on Jonathan’s mind was pleasure, every coherent or intelligent thought leaving him in favor of the primal need to orgasm.

You bit down your moan, your hands resting on both of Jonathan’s bare shoulders, kneading them softly. “Tight for you, baby. All tight for your good fucking cock.” you cursed huskily, and you felt Jonathan’s cock swell at your praise.

His hands snaked up to your waist, hesitantly holding you, but when you didn’t protest nor scold him and instead lifted yourself up again to bounce down on his erect cock, Jonathan touched you feverishly, like he would never get enough of your skin on his.

“Can - can I…” Jonathan started quietly, getting cut off by his own effeminate whine when you grinded down on him. “Can I -- ah -- touch your tits? Please?”

You smiled, finally content with his politeness (as well as the sweet sounds of his moans), “Go ahead, baby. Play with m’fucking tits.”

Jonathan smiled too, but it was so fucking happy he looked pathetic, eyes dilated like a kid on christmas just because you conceded one of his requests. His hands pulled your dress off your head, and you shuddered in the cold - as well as how easy it was for your legs to widen with the fabric gone, your body splitting on instinct to greedily pull in more of his length.

He then groped your perky chest, tweaking your nipples every so often, practically salivating over the fat flesh of your breasts. He was so encapsulated with touching every inch of you that constant groans were leaving your mouth, sliding his cock in and out of your leaking hole faster.

“So soft,” he groaned, amazement dripping off his every word. “Feels s’good, so sweet.”

“Yeah,” you panted, rolling your hips into his own and making his back arch, “you love m’tits so much, huh?”

“Love you,” he whimpered, obviously too fucked out to comprehend the connotations of his words, but you couldn’t resist pressing an adoring kiss to his lips anyways.

Then you could clearly feel the pleasure in your insides building now, like rope twisting around your lower body, especially with the way Jonathan’s curved cock deliciously rubbed the entrance of your cervix with each bob.

Then, you pried one of Jonathan’s needy hands away from your tender breasts, making him whine momentarily before he saw where you were leading his long fingers: right to your puffy clit.

“Touch me, my sweet pet, and I’ll make you come.” You promised, pressing him roughly against you.

Jonathan nodded eagerly, and his skillful fingers began artfully playing with your clit, pinching the flesh lightly and furiously rubbing your wetness over the button. Your sounds of pleasure were affecting him, too: you felt his cock throb when his fingers touched you just right and made a breathless mewl leave you. You pressed your forehead against Jonathan’s own, reveling in how focused he was on making you feel good, and you let go.

Your orgasm flowed over you, making your body twitch and jerk into Jonathan’s relentless touch, the pleasure taking you over completely and making you scream his name. “Oh, fuck, Jon, so good, good boy, you’re my good fucking boy…”

“M’all yours,” he agreed, obviously getting extremely close to the edge as your throbbing cunt clenched around his length. “Yours.”

You breathed haggardly as your high slipped away, your eyes blinking slowly and watching Jonathan helplessly try to get himself off without overstimulating and upsetting you. He wasn’t made to take control, you knew that, and his clueless, pitfiful attempts to do so while still trying to keep your favor made you frown, and slide up off him.

“Lay face down, knees tucked in, baby,” you grunted through a wince, his too-thick cockhead reminding you of the stinging stretch that had long faded away and been replaced with pleasure.

Jonathan didn’t waste a second obeying your commands, his weeping cock resting on his inner thigh. Your fingers brushed past the base of the dildo still within him, its long length disappearing into his puffy, bloated hole, making him buck forward on his knees.

“Can you come on this fake cock, pet? You’re a good little slut, aren’t you?” Your said from above him, hand splaying on his left ass cheek and slightly tugging at the flesh to see how full he really was. Spoiler alert: you couldn’t take that whole length in your cunt, much less your tight ass.

“I’ll come if you tell me to,” Jonathan mewled back, wriggling his ass flirtatiously beneath your hands in some desperate attempt to get you to fuck him and make him release at last.

You got down on your knees, eyeline direct to his hole, and you snickered mockingly at his eagerness. After pressing a harsh bite on his ass and branding him as yours, you began to fuck him with the fake cock, thrusting it’s length in and out of his ever-tightening asshole and spitting on it to moisten his walls.

Jonatgan let out several quavering moans, feeling every inch of the dildo within him because of the position, and he drooled a handful of spit onto the couch at the pure pleasure being inflicted on him. It was slightly embarrassing to come because of this silicone object rather than your soaking wet cunt, but as you pounded the dildo into his hole and made it roughly kiss his prostate, Jonathan decided he didn’t care.

“Come for me,” you demanded gruffly, plowing the dildo in and out of Jonathan’s aching ass, “come undone, baby, all for me.”

At your words, Jonathan -- having been thoroughly tamed at this point -- came, spurting his rich seed onto the couch and his chest, a few drops making their way to his face. He felt you continue to press the length of the dildo in his hole as he rode out his high, and it made for the sickest, bordering-on-painful stimulation.

It still felt heavenly, though: being allowed to come was the highest privilege for him, because it meant you thought he was worthy. Also, because it satisfied the aching monster within him, the one that wanted so desperately to be roughly fucked and toyed with.

At last, you slid the dildo out of his hole, admiring how stretched out and wide it made him, before getting up from your place on the floor and sliding onto the couch. You helped Jonathan sit upright and lay his back on the cushy object, your warm hand clasping his cheek gently.

“All obedient for me now, are you?” you whispered lowly, tickling the bottom of his chin to meet your gaze.

Jonathan licked his plump lips, “You own me… mistress.” The title sounded right at home on his lips— on both your lips, and you smirked.

“I like the sound of that,” you purred, a renewed vigor entering your body. Your arms clasped around Jonathan’s bicep, and you pulled him forward while laying down, making him press his tired weight on top of you. “M’gonna use you however I fuckin’ want,” you said in his flushed ear, before lifting your legs up to wrap around your waist.

His eyes widened, “What are you—“

“Shh,” you cut him off softly, hand coming down to squeeze one of his balls tightly, “just listen to Mistress. This night’s far from over, pet.”

Jonathan groaned, eyes squeezIng shut and feeling his cock spring up once more. Fuck, he thought, and damn this horny cock of his; damn your insatiable appetite; damn how fucking good it felt to be yours.

All yours.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #burnyouwithacigarettelighter #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #sub!jonathan crane #sub!jonathan crane x reader

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prettyoatmeal · 6 months

Text

Shouldn't Have Shared (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Following up my previous post LOL. This is also not proof read, I was listing to a documentary and listening to music in the background of writing. I didn't intend for this to be so long, but I kinda got lost in writing this.

GENRE: Smut

Summary: 'CAUTION! Do not share or this man will appear in your room!' is what the post said. Of course, it was just a hoax.. wasn't it? Sharing it to feed into your obsession for this fictional man from a video game, you're woken up to a pleasant surprise.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie, overly possessive Ghost, primal, mentions of claiming and ruining.

Word Count: 1009

NSFW UNDER CUT

Masterlist here!

***************

Rustle... rustle, rustle...

Stirring in your sleep, you could feel something was.. off. You felt the air tensing around you, becoming hyperaware of your breathing and heartbeat as you began to wake up from your slumber. Opening your eyes and rubbing the sleep from them, you turned away from the wall only to see the shadow of a large man staring right down at you. Your life almost flashed before your eyes.

Feeling your heart stop, you let a loud shriek of terror at the unexpected silhouette. Sitting up quickly, you push yourself to the corner of your bed, your body working on autopilot as you pegged one of your stuffed animals at him.

You could see the little stuffy you threw bouncing off from his chest, hearing him chuckling under his breath.

"Gonna take a lot more than a stuffed lamb to take me out."

You'd recognise that voice from anywhere.

Holy shit.

Turning on the lamp of your bedside table, you finally got a look at the mystery man standing at the edge of your bed. Eyes adjusting to the light, your eyes widened at the realisation.

"Easy, love, no need to be frightened. It's just me. You know who I am, don't you?" Taking another step, he bent over and leaned his palms into the plush edge of your bed, allowing you to get a closer look at him.

Hmm, blond eyelashes. Cute. Full gear... hot. You nodded, swallowing. He was so much bigger in person. Over a screen you couldn't properly picture yourself next to him, but now that he was up close, it was jarring.

"Good, of course you do."

Slowly, he crouched down and picked up the soft toy, throwing it back next to you. Hearing his voice in person, you couldn't help but shudder as you stared in awe. He was so close, so close to you. If this was going to end in any of the ways you've fantasised about, it was going to end with-

"Tell me, sweetheart, did my character on a screen do me justice, or am I even more striking in person?" he smirked, his voice lingering with an arrogance which would make you gag if it were any other man.

He was real... and damned cocky too.

You hadn't said any words yet, and he noticed your silence, his head tilting as he was almost kneeling on your bed at this point.

"Answer me, lovie."

"Yes."

"You're good at listening, aren't you?" He continued, his voice low in just the right way to send a shiver down your spine. "Now tell me something else, you've always wanted more than just pixels on a screen. You've played the game, you've fantasised, you've shared."

Fuck.

"Fuckin' cheeky for sharing that knowing I'd come find ya, and now I'm here to give you what your imagination can't. Would you want that, lovie?"

Fuck.

You swallowed, hard. The air charged with a palpable energy. It felt as if the room was closing in on you two, the erotic tension flooding the air around you as you felt yourself becoming warmer. While you felt your fluster, your fantasies in turn were becoming more and more real by the second.

God, you wanted this. You needed this.

"Yes."

___

"Quit squirming, damn it."

Your eyes were rolled back. His hand was over your mouth, muffling your pathetic whines. You couldn't risk waking up the house, could you?

Your body pinned down against your bed, his clothed chest against your back. Slamming into you at an ungodly speed with sloppy noised, it was everything you'd dreamed about.

"I said," he started, pulling your hips up with his free hand with a grasp tight enough to bruise, angling every thrust which made you lose your mind, "quit squirming."

It was hard to not drool over his palm, the unholy echo of skin slapping together made you pray that no one else would wake up to hear it.

"Ghost-" you managed to moan out his callsign, muffled against his palm.

"Fuck, baby. Keep quiet f' me." he almost whimpered, his face getting lost and buried in your neck as he nipped and kissed at the soft skin. "Can't have- mmh - ye' waking the others up, can you?"

You were barely able to shake your head, this goddamn hunk of a man keeping you under his weight as he rearranged your insides.

"Sweet girl, how long have you thought about this? Touchin' yourself to the thought of me, now coming into y' room like this and using you like you've wanted." His voice came out as a growl, right against your hear and giving you goosebumps.

One night stands were never your thing, but you could for sure keep this going with him. With your walls clenching around him, your went blurry with tears as your eyes threatened to flutter closed.

His filthy words wavered, his voice breaking as he became increasingly desperate himself.

"Finally been given a taste and this wet cunt is just sucking me in."

With his cock hitting that spongey spot inside you, you tensed under him as you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly. Only a few more thrusts and with a muffled cry, you were coming undone, gushing around him. The feeling only made him whine more as you clamped down on him so deliciously, his hips slamming against your ass were now on borderline primal.

"I'll give you what you want, y're all mine, fuck."

With a final grunt against your neck, you felt the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim. Though, he was so deep inside you that there was no where for his release to go but seep out of you. His his heavy breaths mixed with growls, he removed his hand from your mouth and helped to flip you over.

Pulling you almost down to the edge of your bed, you were put into a mating press, barely comprehending it in your post-orgasm haze.

"We're not done yet. Sweet girl, I'm going to ruin you."

***************

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH

I'VE JUST GRADUATED

CHEERS

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wutheringcaterpillar · 2 months

Note

Would you please do a stepbro! Tommy smut with a piss kink? Maybe he makes reader hold it?

Summary: Your step brother finds you out stumbling drunk, there’s only one thing that must be done for you to learn.

warnings: watersports, piss kink, dom/sub dynamics, p in v, mentions of intoxication, humiliation, degradation, stepcest

Everyone knew Tommy was close with you, always around one another, joking around, sometimes playing games that step siblings shouldn’t be playing.

You hadn’t been home since breakfast and though you were well old enough not to have a curfew, Tommy still demanded to know where you were, who you were with and that you’d be home before dark.

Yet here he was driving down the street in the piss pouring rain looking for his step sister whom he may or may not have a sick, twisted, far too loving relationship with.

Stumbling off through the dark alley giggling with your friends, a car pulled up by the sidewalk that you knew all too well to be your step brother Tommy.

Bidding you goodbye, your friends scattered off, frightened of him, while the brick wall you were now leaning against was the only thing keeping you up on your feet.

Tommy stepped out of the car the rain pouring down onto his head as he slammed the door shut in anger, walking toward you with vigours, thunderous steps.

“I’ve been looking for you all night, and you’ve been out getting drunk at me fooking pub?” Making a sly goofy smile, Tommy rolled his eyes shoving you in the car before driving off back to the house.

The liqour was creating a sense of sexual urgency, and need to be fucked. Yet unlike all other days Tommy disregarded your longing stares and seductive touches, instead leading you into his office, forcing you down on a chair demanding you not move.

“Since you love drinking so much, why don’t we see just how much you can withstand.” Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, Tommy returned, his heated gaze never swaying from your hazy eyes.

“Drink up, love.” He eyed you from the opposite side of his desk, pushing the tremendously full glass of water toward you.

Eyeing him nervously, you did as he said, allowing the cool liquid to drench your dry throat, relinquishing the headache almost immediately.

His ocean eyes impended directly on you, focusing on the discomfort you attempted to hide.

“You will hold it until I say so.” Whimpering, he stood from his chair, massaging your shoulders, his plush lips dusting against your ear.

“Maybe you’ll learn your lesson next time, eh love?”

You just hadn’t realized how far Tommy would go for a punishment.

Throughout the day he consistently ignored your begging to use the restroom. Instead refilling the glass with each complaint you gave him.

It wasn’t until five glasses in that you realized he wasn’t just messing around, he wanted to see you suffer immensely.

When Ada arrived home, she has voiced concern that you might be ill. Playing it off, you mentioned that your sleep cycle had been inconsistent, relying on the blatant lie of being drowsy and irritable while Tommy simply smirked in the corner, attempting not to laugh as he sipped his tea.

“Well, perhaps a movie will help you sleep.” Nodding, Ada removed her coat, recalling that history movies were a dull interest to you, and ran outside to get the post to see what would be playing on the television tonight.

Once she was out of sight, Tommy abruptly appeared behind your back, purposefully pulling you back against him, arms squeezing tightly around your lower abdomen.

Whining, your head fell back against his chest as his hand glided beneath your skirt, rubbing your aching heat.

This wasn’t fair, he didn’t hold Ada to these standards even though she was older. She’s never had a “curfew”, why should you be any different?

“How’s my little lamb holding in there? Gonna piss yourself right here in the kitchen?�� The water slowly dripping from the sink faucet has your eyes drawn in as Tommy continued to massage your mound, the rain pattering against the window outside.

The dripping sounds and the stimulation, causing your mind to spin in a million different directions.

“Such a sensitive little thing aren’t you? Just imagining the moment of releasing the flood gates, draining yourself, completely?” Tugging away from him once the door opened, Ada motioned that your brothers and Aunt Pol wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, but the good news was she had found a movie, only it was three hours.

After eating dinner, the living area was set up with blankets and pillows along with simple snacks.

You were currently seated in the middle of the sofa, Tommy beside you of course while Ada was in the recliner to the side.

As a obnoxiously loud scene came on, you took the time to address your brother.

“Tommy, please! I’m going to burst at the seams!” You pleaded, and begged to him, wishing to just dispel the extreme un comfort of your bladder holding the max capacity of piss.

He simply chuckled, shaking his head in disapproval, enjoying how desperate you sounded.

Your eyebrows creased together when his hand guided toward your lower abdomen underneath the blanket, pressing firmly onto the bloated, hardened skin, causing you to squeam in slight pain and discomfort of his actions.

Glancing around the room, Ada was still awake fully indulged in the movie.

Shit, you were going to have to play normal for longer than you already have.

Shivering Ada stood up from her seat, complaining of how cold it was in the house even with the fire lit.

When she mentioned hot chocolate, Tommy’s eyes lit up with mischief and pure diabolical intentions.

“Y’know Y/N was just complaining of the same thing, do you mind making us one too?”

Oh how you wanted to smack him in the back of his demented head, and rush to the toilet.

Every other minute Tommy was shifting, in his seat. How long was this movie? You wouldn’t be surprised had he picked on nearly three hours. But you could play this game better.

As the film continued on about an hour later Tommy’s eyes were becoming heavy, his slight minuscule snores just barely audible.

Taking the opportunity at large, you were careful standing up from the sofa, hesitant not to wake him before walking off toward the upstairs bathroom. Only thing was this was an old house with creaking floors. The night time shade made it hard to see where you were stepping, and then it happened.

The first creak and Tommy was awakened, turning his head to catch you red handed.

Glancing over, Ada was asleep and luckly for him she was a heavy sleeper.

Terror seeped over your eyes as Tommy stood from the catch, walking over and grabbing your arm, forcing you to his room.

“Did you think I wouldn’t hear?” Barging through the door, you shed one another of your clothes, eventually, falling down onto the mattress. Tommy towered over your aching body, noticing how bloaded your bladder appeared, and how hard your nipples were even in the warm air.

You couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment from the fact that being degraded and controlled in such a way turned you on.

Pressing firmly down onto your skin, he smirked watching you squeal and squirm beneath him in desperation, while his hardened cock slid in an up and down motion between your moist folds.

“Tommy I- I can’t. Please let me go first!” He shook his head, plunging his length in your heated flower. The over filling sensation, causing extreme discomfort with a hint of pleasure.

“Maybe you should learn to listen to your big brother every now and then eh?” Your lips parted agape when he began to drill into your body, the head of his cock feeling like it was hitting your bladder with each thrust.

Surely he didn’t expect you to hold your piss through this.

“I-I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be home on time from now on.” His hands grasped at your boobs, feeling them bounce with each rhythmic thrust.

It was almost pathetic how soaked you were, how your pussy clung to his long length in desperation.

When he flipped you over onto your stomach, that was when the inevitable was about to happen.

“Tommy-Tommy I’m gonna- I can’t-“

“You can release now love.” As soon as he gave you permission, all of the piss inside your aching bladder pooled out onto the sheets around his cock. The relieving sensation was almost too satisfying to recognize the humiliating situation that didn’t seem to phase Tommy at all as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. The piss warming his cock like a popsicle melting from the hot sun on a warm summer day.

The white sheets now stained yellow beneath your sex, your cheeks burning red in embarrassment.

It wasn’t long until Tommy released his seed inside of your dripping hole, the overwhelming heat of your pussy and piss sending a tidal wave of pleasure through his veins as his toes curled with one last strong, powerful thrust as he rode out his orgasm.

“So tell me? Did you learn something useful today?”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #ranaewrites #requested

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dulc3vida · 2 months

Text

durazno

pope heyward x lamb!reader

content warning: a peach gets violated, blasphemy, the good stuff. 18+ read at your own risk.

2.4k words

Pope Heyward is not a religious man. He’s a man of science. He likes tangible things that can be studied and understood.

No matter how much he tried explaining that to Heyward, it didn’t matter. As long as he lived under their roof it meant he had to put on his best dress shirt and slacks every Sunday to go to church. It wasn’t all bad. Everyone was really nice there and the music was pretty good.

His favorite part of church is you. The preacher's daughter. Always at the front of the choir, soft voice singing “Christ Be Our Light” and other hymns. You’re truly an angel. You always helped lead the kids out of mass into their Sunday school classrooms. You always volunteered with the food bank and at the animal shelter. You even tutored after school at the public library.

It’s a self indulgent fantasy, Pope thinking he could have you in any way. You’re kook royalty, right up there next to the Camerons. Even if social status wasn’t an issue, a girl like you would never go for him. He reminded himself of that fact every time you caught him staring and smiled demurely from across the pews. You’re a nice girl, you smile at everyone.

Pope, unfortunately, always managed to look away before he could catch your eyes lingering and your teeth sinking into your plush bottom lip as you stared at him with curiosity.

After hurricane Agatha, you suggested to your father the church should gather resources to help with relief. You were surprised at his reluctance and you recited bible verses until you turned blue, not taking no for an answer. “Love thy neighbor, daddy. You taught me that.” He held out for a while, but nevertheless he agreed so long as you helped organize.

You rallied the support of all the kooks, gathering donations. They could never say no to you, even if they didn’t necessarily want to help provide aid to the inhabitants of the cut. You got on your dad’s boat with a group of volunteers from church and set sail for the mainland, returning with tons of food and other necessities. It took an entire day for your group to get all the care packages ready and to assign groups to specific addresses.

When delivery day came around, you made sure one specific address was reserved just for you. Your dad made himself clear that he didn’t want you wandering around the cut by yourself but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, you thought to yourself as your bike rode up the gravel driveway of Heyward’s. You prayed the night before that Pope would be there and God answered. Pope was on the dock, spraying some buckets clean with a hose. His striped button down open and his bare chest on display, making your heart pound in your chest. He doesn’t turn around to look at you when he hears you approaching.

“Almost done, Pops. Just got a few more.”

“Hi, Pope.” You greet, lacing your words with sweetness.

Pope whipped around at the sound of your voice. “Hey-Hi.” His face burns as he stutters over a basic greeting. It didn’t help that you were staring into his soul with your big brown eyes like a lost little lamb. “Can I help you with anything?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He almost thinks you’re checking him out.

“No.” You shake your head, soft waves cascading over your shoulders. There is an awkward silence, neither of you knowing what to say until you remember the bags in your hands. “I brought this… For your family… It’s from the church. You know, relief. It’s not much-”

“This is great, thank you.” Pope took one of the bags and then noticed the other one in your hands. “What's that?”

“Uhm… Peaches. For you.” You held the bag out, intentionally letting your fingers linger on his. “My dad went to Georgia last week for a church thing. These are my favorite.” You licked your lips as you watched him pull one out of the bag and dig his teeth into the flesh of the fruit. You wondered what it would feel like to be the peach.

Pope didn't know if he just wanted the fruit to taste good or if it was actually that good because he practically moaned at the taste. “This is the best peach I’ve ever had.” It made you laugh and it sounded like a melody. He could only imagine that you tasted just as good. “Thank-”

The sound of JJ hooting and hollering alerted both of your attentions. “Come on, loverboy! We gotta get a move on!” He called from the HMS Pogue.

“I should go.” You smiled at him warmly. “Bye, Pope. Have a blessed day.” You called out to his friends, waving as you turned to get back on your bike.

“You too, sweetheart!” JJ called back, earning a slap to the arm from John B.

“Don't be a creep, dude.”

“What? I was just being nice?”

Pope watched you swing your leg over your bike, the wind catching your skirt and blowing it upwards just enough to reveal your cotton white panties. JJ nearly broke his neck trying to get a better look.

“Pervs…” Kie rolled her eyes. “That's the preacher's daughter, you know that right?”

“I know.” A smirk spread over JJ’s face. “Church girls are always the freakiest. You know, pent up sex feels? Bet she humps her pillow every night starin’ at a cross-”

“Okay, that's enough.” Pope finally turns around once he is sure his hardening dick isn’t visible. “Let's go.”

“Ooh, peaches?” John B wiggled his fingers together and reached for the bag but Pope yanked it away. “Oh come on, there's at least 12 in there. Are you on your way to be in a math problem?” Pope sighed and tossed one at John B. He turned to Kiara and JJ who were sitting on their knees, groveling like dogs. They each get a peach tossed at them.

“That's what I’m talking about.” JJ bit his peach. “She's totally into you.”

“No, she's not. She's just being nice.”

“Hey, John B? You get any Georgia peaches in your care package?” He looked at the label on the fruit before biting the peach again.

“Nah. You?”

“Nah. Want my advice?” JJ tossed the pit of his peach into the water.

“I really don't-” Pope shook his head, taking control over the wheel of the HMS.

“Try that door. I guarantee it's unlocked for you.”

Pope was usually a sound sleeper. His dreams were never too scary and he was always able to fall asleep once he focused on his breathing for a bit. Tonight was different.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw you.

He couldn’t help it. You invaded his mind the second he stepped into your fathers church. When he raised his hand in worship it was always for you. As far as Pope was concerned, God wasn’t real. You were real. Someone he could genuinely worship and devote himself to completely. Selfishly. You were the lamb and he was the pathetic, cowardly lion.

Pope sat up in bed and looked around his room tiredly until his eyes stopped on the bag of peaches. He wasn’t sure why he brought them into his room but he knew he would regret it in the morning. He got out of bed and grabbed a peach before lying back in bed. He pressed a finger against its center, obscenely digging his finger inside and pulling out the pit.

Juice dripped onto his chest and onto his chin as he sucked all the fruit off the pit before tossing it aside, moving the peach down his boxers. It was a tight fit and it made him screw his eyes shut. It didn’t help.

All it took was 3 strokes and the image of the faint outline of your pussy through your panties and he was biting his hand to muffle the sound of his orgasm. He set the peach on his nightstand feeling the need to take a cold, cold shower before he went to bed.

In the morning, Pope felt guilty. Pope is not a religious man but something about what he had done made him feel the need to seek penance. He needed to face some kind of punishment, even if it meant confessing that he fucked a peach to the thought of the preacher’s daughter.

The only spot in the world where you could truly be yourself was the confessional. No one came to confess as much as they needed so it was only really ever used on occasions that called for it. You liked coming to the church on the days where no one was there except your father doing paperwork in his office. It was the perfect place to read books your parents wouldn’t approve of. From medieval torture methods to smut. Anything mildly taboo that you could sneak out of the public library. You always returned the books and repented.

Today, you were halfway through A Certain Hunger when you heard the doors of the church creak open. You peek out of the door and immediately close it. Pope is making his way towards the booth.

He steps inside and closes the door, not daring to look towards who he thinks is the minister. Instead, he closes his eyes. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” Pope inhales sharply when there is no response. He takes it as permission to continue. “I gave into temptation and lust. I… I…” Pope didn’t know how to describe it. “I… committed a sex act… with a peach. I feel incredibly guilty and it’s not the act that I feel most guilty about but who I was thinking about during it. I feel like I violated her in some way and-”

“Was it me?” Your soft voice made his heart drop. He thinks he’s hallucinating. It was silent for a minute before you repeat yourself. “Were you thinking about me, Pope?”

Pope took another moment before responding. “Yes.” He was mortified at your silence. “I’m really, really sorry-” He was cut off by the sound of your door opening and shutting. His mind raced with the possibility of you running to your father ready to tell him what a sick deviant he is.

Instead, the door to his side of the confessional opened and you closed the door behind yourself.

“Hi.” You practically whispered, a smile playing on your face that you were trying to hide. “Did you, really?” He nods, afraid to speak. “I’m sorry.”

Pope has to blink a few times to digest your words. “Why?”

“I was tempting you.” You confess, thinking on everytime you would give Pope a coquettish glance or your bold move wearing a skirt you knew would show your panties off with one breeze. He stared at you inquisitively. “I’ve been trying to seduce you. I’m sorry I led you to sin.” You knelt before him. “Recently, I have been overcome with lustful thoughts about you. I… I use the thought of you for pleasure.” Your confession was sending all blood in Pope’s brain straight down to dick. “I don’t think you deserve any penance.” Your voice quieted to a whisper before you carefully reached to touch his bulge. Pope made no move to stop you.

“What are you doing?” He questions, voice strangles at the feeling of your hand rubbing against his dickprint. You looked up at him, the same way you look when you take the body of christ into your mouth.

“Paying my penance.” You slip your hand down his pants and stroke his already hard cock. His skin is soft and it’s a little bit curved. Your mouth waters at the feel. You do what you read in your books, pumping your hand up and down slowly. You were enjoying this.

Pope’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Wait… Are you sure we should do this?”

“I can stop if you want…” You pulled him out of his pants, admiring how pretty his dick is in your hand. “But, remember Pope… The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want. Neither should you.” You sink your mouth onto him and he feels like he is in heaven. “We can always repent. Love covers a multitude of sins and God loves us.” You reassure him, taking him back into your mouth.

Pope feels like he’s on fire from his head to his toes. His head rests against the wall as you bob your head up and down his length. He’s not a religious man, but this is the closest he has come to truly feeling God’s presence. He looks down at you and you are already staring at him, mouth full as you choke down as much as you can. You gag around him and come up for air, gasping as you kitten lick his tip before taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

You look beautiful. Your eyes never left him. Your hair stuck to your forehead from sweat and your eyes were all watery and glassy. You even had your heel between your legs, rocking back and forth on it. You moaned and it sent vibrations all through his cock. He wanted to worship you the same way you were worshiping him. He was praying for the strength to stay silent as his eyes roam the walls, staring at the intricate cross motifs carved into the wood panels. He had never felt the watchful eye of God until now.

It was truly a miracle he lasted as long as he did because it didn’t take much longer before he was trying to pull you off. “I’m gonna-” He panted out, breathing becoming ragged. You didn’t want to come off though. You forced yourself down until your nose touched the base of his cock. You could feel him pulsing as it all shot down your throat.

Pope almost screamed when you kept sucking after he came. You came up, pressing kisses against his dick. Neither of you spoke while you put him back in his pants and then nuzzled his leg, wanting attention like a needy lamb. He pet your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“Did you throw the peach away?” Pope shakes his head no. “Can I have it?”

this was unhinged and very self indulgent :p hope u like!

#pope x lamb!reader #pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #lamb!reader #smut #religious themes

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