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blooming-violets · 2 months

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Saints and Sinners || Under the Banner of Heaven

[Jeb Pyre x fem!Reader]

Summary: Jeb falls prey to his darkest temptations while working a case.

Warnings: adult graphic smut, a cheating fic, heavy LDS religious themes and traumas, brief mentions of the murder of sex workers, light fem!dom/male!sub roles but nothing too crazy, brining it back to the religious trauma stuff - a lot of strong feelings of being trapped in a family/religion you don't feel like you belong in, if you are someone who feels offended with merging religion and sexual themes then this is not the fic for you

Note: "Reader" is nicknamed Daisy as her stage name as a stripper/sex worker. She has no physical descriptions apart from having female anatomy/a human body and wearing a sun dress. She can look however you'd want her to which is what makes her a reader character. Apart from that, she is her own character.

Jeb Pyre considered himself to be a decently good man.

He was well groomed. He was respectful. He loved his family. He gave his job 100% and loved his neighbors.

He was a devout son of the Heavenly Father.

Or, at least, he used to be.

He had been hiding his true self for his family's sake. He was trying, but failing, to keep up his appearance of perfection. Every day was a new struggle to keep up his flawless Latter-day smile. Docile and submissive. Never making waves. Never voicing questions. Day after day, trapped in his own mind, slowly being eaten alive by his ever growing doubt. It was only a matter of time before he cracked.

She was his forbidden fruit. The temptress sent straight from the devil to corrupt his soul. The snake in his garden.

His latest case had led him straight to her doorstep. There were sex workers in the city being murdered. A killer who vowed to cleanse his city from their filth. Jeb hadn’t even known there were sex workers living in his area. He’d never even seen a strip club before he was forced to step inside one to investigate. It was a terrifying world he wasn’t sure how to navigate.

She had taken his hand and led him through the darkness.

Daisy. That’s what she called herself. Her stage name. She had told him it was after Daisy Buchanan. The paragon of perfection for men to lust after but hiding a sardonic, amoral soul. It seemed to fit. She was the kind of woman he’d leave a green light on for but never be able to obtain. He knew her real name for his investigation but she refused to have him call her by such. She claimed only the people who truly loved her were allowed to utter her true name. To everyone else, she was just Daisy.

He used to believe that all sex workers were women who needed saving. They had lost their way from God. They were impure. Drug addicts. Abused. Lost souls desperate to be saved.

But she fit none of those roles.

She was strong and sure. A business woman. A homeowner. She didn’t need a man to provide for her. Everything she owned was achieved through her own tenacity. When he looked at her, he saw someone who truly enjoyed their job. He struggled to wrap his head around that fact. A woman shouldn’t enjoy having sex for a living. She shouldn’t enjoy selling her body to perverted men. She should remain pure and devout until marriage. He often wondered what her future husband would think of her lewd, depraved acts.

And then he remembered that she never wanted to marry.

What an absurd thought. A woman with no desire for a husband? Utterly bizarre.

She was unlike any woman he had ever met and he was tempted by the wickedness of her world. He knew he shouldn’t be. He knew better than to dance with the devil. Yet, here he was. Allowing her to occupy every existing thought in his brain. She was the one he thought about late at night. She was the name he moaned into his pillow in the early hours of the morning while his wife slept beside him. She was the one he dreamed of being able to touch.

The one thing he couldn’t have, was the one thing he truly coveted. For Jeb Pyre was a sinner. He wasn't a devout man. He didn’t believe in the Heavenly Father.

And he hated the life he was forced to be living.

Everything was an act and he was tired of playing his part.

So, when a killer murdered two of her work acquaintances, and put her in his targets, Jeb decided to personally oversee her protection. After all, she had been such a help to the investigation thus far. He needed to keep his best informant alive.

Even if that meant risking everything he had to spend the night in her arms.

Jeb parked his car on the street directly outside of her house. From out here, one would never know what kind of person she was. It looked no different than any other house on the block. He wondered if her neighbors had any idea. He couldn’t imagine if they knew, they would let her stay in the neighborhood without a fight. They’d blame it on the guise of protecting their innocent children from the evil whore but the truth was that they hated anyone who dared to step outside their carefully crafted circle. They hated those different from them.

But who were her clients then, if not the men who claimed to hate everything about her?

Everything was a facade. He was so used to hearing people say one thing but act the opposite. The men who would run her from their neighborhood if they knew the truth, were the same men who would cash out their family’s credit card to spend a night with her. Publically, they would denounce her. Privately, they would take whatever they desired from her.

He was no different from them. The perverse thoughts inside his head were just as bad, if not worse. He had seen too much in this job. It had twisted his core. His mind was polluted. He was lusting down paths he could never travel.

Jeb rapped three, strong knocks on her door. It was later in the evening. He knew she wasn't at the strip club because he had a copy of her schedule in his car glove box. There were other women he had to keep an eye on, too, but she was the one he chose to personally protect. She was the one he feared to lose the most. It was irrational, he knew that. She had no notion of his fantasies keeping him up at night. To her, he was just the lead detective on a case.

He caught her peeking out the top window of her front door, standing on her tiptoes to reach, and he gave a friendly wave. At least she was smart. She wasn’t opening her door to just anyone.

He listened to the clicks of two different locks and smiled as she opened to him, “Good evening, ma’am. Detective Jeb Pyre, remember me?”

She forced a tight smile in return, “Of course I remember you. Do you think I have the memory of a goldfish?”

He let out a half hearted laugh. She was beautiful but she was scared. Women she had worked with were dying. It was supposed to be his job to keep them safe.

He tried to take a subtle glance down her body. She was wearing a sundress and nothing else. Warm yellow with tiny white flowers dotting the sleek fabric. One of the thin straps was sliding down her shoulder. The dress clung tightly around her torso to highlight her stunning cleavage and flared out over her hips whenever she moved. Women around here never wore clothes like that unless they also donned a buttoned up cardigan and tights. To see her display her body so openly caught his breath in his throat. He had to shift on his feet to readjust himself. He refused to allow her to see how excited his body was reacting to hers.

It was unprofessional. Wrong.

“Not at all. Do you have a moment to chat?” He asked, doing his best to keep his voice level.

She gave a sharp inhale, “Is everything okay? Did someone else get hurt?”

Jeb shook his head, “No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted…”

What did he want? He wanted to commit a sin. He wanted to see her naked. He wanted to kiss her entire body. He wanted to slide his cock between her beautifully plump lips. He-

He was going to hell.

“I just wanted to stop in and let you know that I’ll be stationed outside your house for the rest of the night. With everything going on, I thought it would be best to station some people at various hot spots around town to keep an eye on things.”

Her eyes narrowed, “My house is a hot spot?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, Detective Pyre, but I don’t do business out of my own home. No one knows where I live. I use a stage name at work. No one there knows my real name. I’m not a street walker, I’m a stripper who occasionally takes up extra clients in the vip rooms when the money is good enough. My house isn’t a revolving door for men to come and go whenever they please like some brothel. I’ve taken some time off work for the next week to lay low, anyway. A lot of the other girls are doing the same. I think I’ll be alright.”

Jeb chewed awkwardly on his bottom lip, feeling like he had offended her, “I didn’t mean to imply…anything…”

This was not going how he intended. He wasn’t used to women talking back to him. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You being stationed out in your car all night, in front of my house, is only going to cause more eyes to look at me. My neighbors already think I’m some crazy heretic for not attending their church. I don’t need them looking further into my life. Thank you for stopping by and offering your support but I don’t need it.”

As she started to close the door, Jeb stuck his foot between the crack, wincing as it slammed into his shoe. He felt immediate guilt for doing such a strong handed act with her. He just couldn’t bear the thought of being turned away. He couldn’t spend another night laying in a bed next to a wife he no longer loved.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly added when he saw her look of outrage. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous the man we are hunting is. He could have already followed you home. He probably already knows where you live. I wouldn’t put it past him to break in. I’ve seen it before.” He gave a quiet sigh, nearly begging for her approval. “Please. Let me watch over you tonight. I won’t be able to live with myself if something happened while I was supposed to be here.”

Her shoulders dropped in defeat. He watched her peer side to side down the street, taking in her surroundings for anything unusual.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But do you have to be parked in the street? Can’t you pull your car into my garage so no nosy neighbors will see and spend the night inside? I have a perfectly adequate couch for you to hang out on.”

Jeb smiled, relieved, “I can do that. Thank you.”

He shouldn’t be this excited about being inside her home.

As he slowly walked through her place, he took note of the items she owned. Her house looked like any others he might enter. There were pictures of her with friends hanging on her refrigerator, a television in the corner of the living room, a brick fireplace with a little ceramic frog on top of the mantle. A cozy, hand knit blanket was draped over the back of the couch. Everything looked normal. He felt stupid for imagining her living inside of sex dungeon. Whatever that might look like. He still had a lot of biases he had to work on.

She walked into the living room after him with a glass of ice water, offering it to him, “The bathroom is the first door on the left down the hall. My bedroom is the last door. There’s a spare room to the right where I do my step aerobics. I have a basement with some empty rooms down there but I don’t really use them. Then there’s the kitchen and, obviously, living room. The front door and the basement door are the only doors into the house besides the garage. It’s a pretty small house with thin walls so you should be able to hear anything if there’s a break in.”

Jeb smiled politely in thanks. He knew what he was doing would be considered nefarious in his community. A married man spending the night in a single woman’s home, a stripper, no less, would be the gossip of the town. It wouldn’t matter if he was a detective keeping watch on someone who could be in danger. He was still a man alone with a woman. The first night he was ever alone with his wife was their wedding night. It was no wonder Daisy wanted him to park in the garage so people wouldn’t talk. She probably had a hard enough time as it was.

“I won’t take up much room,” he said. “I don’t want to be a burden. Only trying to help to keep everyone safe.”

“Isn’t this usually the type of job you give to the rookies?” She asked, taking a seat in an armchair across from the couch. She crossed her legs at the ankles like a respectable lady should and, somehow, she still looked like a seductress doing so. “Does the lead detective usually make overnight house calls?”

The skirt of her dress was short. It bunched up around her thighs as she sat. He willed himself to only look at her face and keep his eyes from wandering.

Jeb blushed and perched on the edge of the couch cushion, “We don’t have too many men at the station. I volunteered to lend an extra hand.”

She leaned back, eyeing him up with a type of bold, observant intelligence he wasn’t used to seeing, “What does your wife think of you spending the night with a whore?”

He anxiously twirled his wedding band around his finger. She spoke with such brashness it caught him off guard.

“I told her I was spending the night at the office,” he wasn’t sure why he willingly answered so honestly and without hesitation.

She had that kind of spell over him. He wanted to protect her. Wanted to give her things. Wanted to tell her all his secrets. She was a siren luring him to his destruction and he was willing to sail his ship straight into the rocks if it made her happy.

A smirk tugged up the corner of her lips, “Ah, I see. So you’re a liar. What else are you lying to her about?”

Jeb choked on the water he was sipping. His eyes widened.

“I’m not-what-I’m not-” he sputtered out.

She laughed quietly to herself, “Calm down, detective. I was only joking. An LDS man telling his wife a lie? That’s never been heard of before.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

He ran the back of his hand over his lips to hide his smile. He liked her. He liked her sass. She didn't care what he thought of her. She wasn’t playing a game like everyone else he knew. It made him want to tell her the truth. Every truth. Everything he had been holding in for the past year.

He hated his wife. He didn’t just not love her anymore, he despised her.

Her words had been echoing in his ears for over a year now, “I love you but I can’t struggle through this with you.”

She had left him when he needed her the most. She chose her faith over him. He should have known. He had married her because of how devout she was. Her love for Heavenly Father was what drew him towards her in the first place. Now, it’s what cast him away.

If he didn’t pretend, Rebecca would take everything from him. She would leave him for nothing if he didn’t keep on impersonating a saintly man. As if they hadn’t spent an entire lifetime together. As if he hadn’t devoted everything to his family. She would rather jump ship than dare to stand by his side when he needed her most. He would have never left her if she had been in his place. He would have held her hand and walked her through her doubts but she couldn’t do the same. Her love was conditional.

He hated her for that.

He hated himself for hating her.

Rebecca’s faith was what kept her moving forward. It was all she ever knew. She lives in the LDS belief that Jeb, with his priesthood, is the one who must usher her through the veil when she passes so she can enter the highest form of heaven. Without him, without his beliefs, she was fucked.

Jeb smiled to himself. He liked that word.

Fucked.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That was his life.

A big fucking lie. A pile of steaming bullshit.

He had just met Daisy five days ago and she had already pegged him for exactly the kind of man he was. A liar. A stripper knew more about him than his own wife. She could see straight through the fabricated, bullshit act he put on and he had only been inside her home for five minutes. Five fucking minutes and she could already see the depravity leaking out of him.

God, he was pathetic.

“I don’t believe in a God,” he blurted out, shocking even himself with the outburst.

She gave him a few, stunned blinks in response, “...Okay.”

Jeb cleared his throat, his face heating with embarrassment, “I don’t know where that came from. I deeply apologize.”

If he was with anyone else, his confession would have been met with gasps of horror. With her, it was nothing more than a passing sentence.

She was perfect. He wanted her. Badly. That sundress was only working to fuel his indiscretion.

She leaned her head into the palm of her hand as she rested it on the arm of the chair, “Is this…something you’d like to discuss further, detective? Men seem to enjoy emptying their traumas onto me. I’ve consoled many men over the years. I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

“I-” he stammered, his ear heating up in shame for his actions. “No. I’m sorry. Again.”

She wasn’t his therapist. He didn’t have a therapist. Only crazy people had therapists. And he wasn’t crazy.

Or maybe he was.

Life might be easier if he was crazy.

“I love my wife,” he stated. He only said that to try and convince his brain to stop lusting after the woman he was meant to be protecting. He was here to make sure no one broke in. He was working a case. He was not here to turn to sin.

She nodded her head, pretending to follow along with whatever obvious breakdown was going on inside his mind, “That’s good. A lot of men love their wives. A lot of men don’t. That’s a part of life.”

“I love…no…” Jeb sighed. Fuck it. The rant was coming out. He couldn’t stop it. He was already too far gone to keep it repressed any longer. “I don’t love my wife. I hate her. Every time I look at her, all I feel is animosity. I think she’s the dumbest woman I’ve ever met and I know that’s wrong to think. I know that makes me a terrible man. I’m an awful husband. It’s just that she blindly follows whatever the profit says. Whatever a bishop tells her to do, she’d do it without a second thought. They could tell her to get on her knees and suck them off because Heavenly Father commanded it so and she would do it. She doesn’t see anything further than her own nose. She follows and never questions. And, I understand, because I used to be the same. I used to believe because that’s what I was taught to do. Blindly believe. That’s all there ever was.

“She’s never seen true evil. Not like I have. Because she refuses to look even though it’s all around her. I see it everywhere. She puts on her little Mormon blinders and never dares to take them off. So, she follows. And she makes my girls follow. And she makes me follow or else she will take the girls away from me. I am raising my daughters in a world that hates women. My wife is letting them be preyed upon. She’s happy to let them be squashed into submission. Keep sweet. Pray and obey. Learn to worship your future husband. Never think for yourself.” He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath, feeling himself losing it. His voice cracked. “If I give up, is there no hope for my daughters? Who will protect them if not me? My wife would marry again, quickly, so she can still get into the celestial kingdom when she dies. She’ll marry someone who won’t waver in their beliefs. Another man would raise my girls. He won’t care about them. Not like I do. They’ll be sold off to the first Mormon boy they fancy. They’ll be married at 18. Never attend college. Never think for themselves. Never get a job. Because I won’t be there to inspire them to reach for more. I’ve seen what kind of men are out there. My daughters won’t be safe unless I play the part my wife created for me.”

He opened his eyes to look over at the woman across from him. Her face was neutral but her eyes were burning with an eagerness to know more. His sudden outburst of lament had stricken something deep inside of her. He had captured her interest like he was a strange bug forced under a microscope that she wanted to dissect. His spiel may have exploded out of nowhere but she was already on board to follow along. She seemed like someone who enjoyed a feisty debate. He needed someone who wouldn’t hold back.

“You claim your wife is the dumb one, yet, here you are, spewing a load of shit all over my living room,” she mused, giving him a snarky grin.

Jeb’s jaw dropped. He forced himself to quickly regain his composure and took another swig of cold water. The fire behind her eyes was enticing. He desperately wished his wife could show that kind of passion once in her fucking life. He hated the docile, sweet act. He craved raging forest fires not babbling brooks. He licked his lips, ready to swallow anything she threw back at him. This is what he wanted. Someone to argue with. Someone he could express himself with without fear of rejection. He wanted this fierce lioness to eat him alive.

He just wanted something that felt real for once.

She stood up to pace around the room in front of him while she spoke, “Do you realize your wife is like that because she knows nothing else? That is her way of survival. She chooses to believe instead of question because questioning is terrifying. Questioning means losing everything and everyone you’ve ever loved. Your entire world crumbles under your feet if you dare to question. Want to ask me how I know?” She stopped her aggravated pacing to shoot him a look of annoyance. “You’re a man. You have so many options still available should you fumble. If she were to question her faith, she would lose her family. Her mother, father, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends. She loses them all. And then she is left with what, exactly? I doubt your wife works? Does she have her own career? Skill sets? Does she have her own income? Does she have her own car? Bank account? She dares to question, she is left with nothing. But you know that already. Obviously. Because you are just as scared to speak your truths out loud. You’re no better than her.”

She stopped momentarily to catch her breath, flipping a strand of hair from off her forehead. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way her hips swayed when she walked. He adored her temper. It felt so natural. Real. She wasn’t holding herself back to placate him. She acted on her own accord without worrying about how others perceived her.

He wanted to toss her onto this couch and take her right here. He could only half listen to her rant through his ever growing desires.

“How do you know your wife doesn’t think the same thoughts as you? How do you know she doesn’t hide her truths locked up deep inside her mind and never dares to speak them? It’s fine to voice your opinions when you’re in the safety of my house. To you, I am nothing, I’m just a stripper. A prostitute. Hooker. Harlot. Whore. Whatever you want to call me. I pose no threat to you because, to you, I am so far below you that my voice does not matter. You feel safe to speak freely inside these walls because you face no real consequences here. You’ve seen evil? Well I’ve lived evil. You’re here because of the evil that wants to be inflicted upon me. Because I think differently from you. Because I use my body as a tool. Because I don’t subscribe to your values. Someone out there thinks I deserve death simply because I exist in a way he doesn’t approve of. You want to blame your wife for your problems. Blame yourself because you’re no better than her. You’re all a part of the same system.”

Jeb sat there in silence. The condensation from the glass of ice water clutched in his hand dripped down his wrist. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he took it all in. He was torn between fully digesting her words and imagining her naked, writhing body under him as he dragged the ice cube from his glass down her stomach.

“I don’t,” he whispered. “I don’t think you’re a whore.”

He didn’t even like saying that word out loud. He felt a dark cloud of shame rain down around him. But was she wrong?

He had never imagined his wife in the scenario currently playing in his head. He saw Daisy as a sex object willing to be exploited to his darkest temptations.

She stopped in front of him. She placed her finger under his chin and lifted his head up to look at her. His wide, pleading, brown eyes took her in, silently begging for some kind of clarity to fix his entire life.

“Tell me what you think of me, detective. Tell me the truth. When you look at me, what is it you truly see?” She murmured down at him. “Why are you really here? It’s not to discuss your lapse of faith, or your wife, and it’s not to keep me safe. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me what it is you truly want? Don’t you lie to me.”

The way his world saw it, Rebecca was pure, because she had remained a virgin until marriage. She lived and breathed by the Book of Mormon. Daisy was a condemned sinner, because she sold her body for sex. She was beyond saving. Even the outfit she wore was considered taboo. Modest clothing was the foundation stone to sustaining abstinence. She was the sinner.

But so was he.

Jeb was no saint despite the role he was trying to play.

He took a deep breath and recited the scripture, “He that looketh on a woman to lust after her, or if any shall commit adultery in their hearts, they shall not have the Spirit, but shall deny the faith and shall fear.”

Her eyes flicked with curiosity and a smile tugged at her lips. She caressed her thumb over his cheek, “You lust, Jeb Pyre? For me?”

He licked his drying lips, gently pushing her hand away from his face, “Yes.”

She nodded, knowingly, “You don’t know what you want. Your mind is in one place but your actions keep you in another. I am not the answer to your problems. Many men have tried but all have failed. The answer is never found between the legs of a whore. Unless, that is, what you say is true and you don’t think of me that way. Something tells me, though, that you’re lying to us both.” She gave him a wink, turning on her heels with her dress spinning out around her, and swayed down the hallway towards her bedroom. “Have a good night on the couch, detective. I’ll be retiring to my bedroom should you decide you need me.”

She let those last few words linger in the air, the weight of them settling down around him, as the door closed behind her.

The cuckoo clock hanging on her wall let him know that midnight was here. The sudden sound breaking the peaceful silence had caused him to jump up from his spot on the couch and reach for the gun at his hip. Jeb rolled his eyes in the clock's direction and lowered his hands back to his side. He might still have some residual PTSD from his former cases…

Her house was dark and quiet.

He liked it that way. Sometimes he missed the quiet. She hadn’t left her bedroom since she entered. Without her in his sights, he could better attempt to control his impulses. He was too weak to be trusted around her. If she hadn’t left when she did, he would have given in. It had taken everything in him to not follow her blindly into that bedroom like a dog on a leash.

Jeb ran a ragged hand over his face. He wasn’t tired. Late nights were where he thrived best. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. She’d awoken his mind in a way he thirsted for. Even just being in her house, prowling silently down her hallway, gave him a thrill. He felt like a naughty school boy getting into mischief after class. He longed to feel something more. His life was full of boredom and she offered him the keys to adventure. He longed to find solace in the arms of a stripper.

A soft light illuminated from under her door to let him know that she was still awake down there. He wondered what she was doing hidden away out of his sight. She had invited him to join her. She had invited him to relish in his sins. It would be a line that, once he crossed, he would never be able to erase. The second he gave in to her, he wouldn't be able to stop. He was already past the point of saving. One little push was all it would take for him to delve into the madness. That glowing light under her door beckoned him to her like the light of God calling him home.

He slipped into her bathroom instead.

He ran cold water out of her orchid pink sink to splash over his heated face. His eyes sought his reflection in the mirror to stare deeply into his own battered soul. This was his crossroads. Whichever path he took would alter the rest of his life. He had already committed adultery in his mind. It was now the act to see if his body would follow or not.

The sight of a black and golden lipstick sitting on the edge of her sink caught his eye. Jeb reached for it, popping off the cap, and twisting it up. A deep, berry red. A color housewives wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. He brushed his thumb over the top to coat his skin with the color of her lips. The bottom of the stick was engraved with the name of the shade. Walk of Shame. He smiled a wicked smile to himself.

He knew what road he was going to take. He would take that walk of shame.

Jeb placed the stick back where he found it. He twisted his wedding ring around his finger, mulling over his decision, then carefully plucked it off his body. He placed the ring around the lipstick, listening to it rattle against the ceramic sink, and gave a long, soft sigh. A weight had been lifted from him. He quickly exited the bathroom and allowed his feet to lead him straight to her door. He stood outside, silent, listening.

Soft moans floated under the door. Little whines. Whimpers.

His eyes slipped closed and his lips parted. He knew those sounds. She was putting on a show for him. All he had to do was raise the curtain and let her perform. His hand hovered over her door knob.

It was okay. She had invited him in.

“-should you need me.”

He needed her. He hadn’t engaged in sex with his wife in over eight months. He needed her now more than ever.

He slowly and silently turned the knob. Inch by inch. Until he was able to push open the door. Just a crack. Just enough to peek through. He had to make sure she was safe behind those walls. After all, that was his job.

She laid across the bottom of her mattress. Her sundress was gathered around her hips. Her legs were parted wide, aimed straight at the door, as if she knew he would show up. He was that predictable. Through her half closed, dreamy lids, her long, elegant fingers drew delicate circles through her glistening flower. His breath caught in his throat when he watched her dip a finger deep inside of her. His cock sprang to life, begging to be touched, pushing at the loose fabric of his dark gray suit pants.

He should close the door. He should leave.

This was wrong. He needed to repent.

“I see you watching me, detective,” she whispered to him as he hid away in the dark hallway, lurking in the shadows like a predator. She let out a soft whine, dragging her soaked finger in circles around her clit. “I know you’re there.”

Jeb swallowed. She was the devil. A demon. He had no power over her. Heat flushed through his veins. His breath was already coming out in heavy pants. He was chained to the doorway, captivated by her seduction. He couldn’t move away even if he wanted to.

“Have you ever seen a woman masturbate, Brother Pyre?” She moaned. “Have you ever seen a woman touch herself like this?”

His fingers wrapped around the edge of the door, gripping tightly onto the wood for support. No. He hadn’t. It would shock him if he found out his wife secretly masturbated in private. She was so well behaved. Masturbation was a sin. She would never dare allow anyone else besides him to touch her, not even herself.

“Do you like to watch me?” She whimpered, sinking her finger back inside of her. “I was hoping you would come. I know you, detective. I see through you. Your mind is just as perverted as the rest of us. You want to give in. You want to taste what is forbidden to you. It’s okay. I won’t tell.”

She looked hotly up into his eyes, staring straight into his corrupted soul. He was too weak. He had no resolve. The devil looked too appetizing. The sins of the flesh were tempting him forward as he let the door push open to reveal himself in all his shame.

She gave him a warm smile, taking in the sight of the bulge below his belt. Her fingers swept through her folds, slippery with her arousal. With the expertise of someone with diligent practice, she used two fingers to part the outer petals of her womanhood to reveal to him the hot, sinking abyss he craved to explore.

Enraptured, he could not tear his eyes from the slender digit plunging into her soaking depths. His mouth opened and closed, silently, begging to seek a taste of such a treasure. He watched in a starving trance as she anointed her needy pearl, bathing it in her honey, tending to it like a precious garden. Her eyes locked with his, burning, tempting him to join her in her display of debauchery.

Oh, lord, he was tempted.

Through heavy, ragged breaths she spoke, “Watch me, detective. Gaze upon the kind of life you were kept from. Look at what you could have been given. See what you missed out on.”

He was watching. His eyes were padlocked to her dancing fingers. She was beautiful. His heart sought to hold her in his arms while he touched her with a wild abandon.

“Do you like what you see, Jeb?” She moaned out his name extra low and tantalizing.

He almost came in his pants at the sound of his name in her mouth. A shudder ran through his tightly wound body.

“Answer me!” She demanded from him.

He gasped, “Yes.”

A smile spread across her lips, “Good boy. Men like you work so hard, don’t they? You give and give and give but who ever takes care of you? Let yourself relax, detective. Let yourself give in. Let me care for you. Let someone else take control for once.”

Her eyes closed, lost in the rhythmic tones of her own words, casting her enchantment over them both. She had known he would come seek her out. She had known he would watch. She wanted him here. All he craved was to feel wanted again.

He took a tentative step into her bedroom, closing the door behind him, and sealing his fate with the click of the lock.

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed. “Come a little closer. Take a look at your new toy. All for you.”

Jeb held his breath, shuffling slowly forward a few more paces. His heart was racing. His skin was on fire. His mind was made up.

“Why don’t you let Daisy see what her Gatsby is working with, hmm? Take your belt off. Unzip your pants. Show me.” It wasn’t a request but a demand.

He swallowed, his nerves sending him into a frenzy, as he undid his belt, lost in her trance. His eyes stayed glued to her hypnotic fingers casting circles of magic around her clit. Subconsciously, his tongue dated out to lick his lips, desperate for a taste.

His hot, heavy cock fell out into the palm of his hand. He listened to her sharp inhale at the sight. It was followed by a purr of approval.

“I want you to touch yourself but keep your eyes on my pussy, detective. Watch what I’m doing. Watch how wet you’re making me. Listen.” Two fingers sunk into her, squelching and sloppy, as she pumped them in and out.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the sound and a growl rumbled in the back of his throat. With the tip of his thumb, still stained with her lipstick, he smeared around his own wetness leaking from his tip. He worked it down his shaft, slowly pumping himself through his fist.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment since the day I met you,” she breathed, keeping him in her watchful sights, each of them working to build their own pleasure. “I saw you then like I see you now. A lost man in need of guidance. I dreamed of you touching me. That first day, when you called me into your office. I imagined spreading my legs for you as I sat on top of your desk, throwing papers to the floor, while you ate me out in front of the large window. I dreamed of you finding me at my work, paying extra to take me to the back rooms, making me suck your cock while you grabbed my hair and prayed to your pathetic God.” He wanted to eat that arrogant smirk straight off her face. “You like watching me, don’t you, pretty boy? You like hiding here, away from the world, where only you and I can bear witness to the blasphemy of your true self. Show me who you really are.”

He whimpered, tugging on his cock a little harder. He was a sinner. An adulterer. A pervert. A heretic. A liar.

“Tell me what you want to do to me, detective? Tell me all the ways you’ve dreamed of fucking me while you slept next to your frigid wife.”

Jeb stuttered over his words, trying to force them out his tightening throat, “I’ve-I’ve…dreamt of dragging you to temple, b-bending you over the sacrament table, and fucking you in front of the congregation so they could all see what kind of dirty whore you are.”

Tears pricked in his eyes as the shame battled it out with the unbridled lust. He had never spoken like that in his life. A sense of vitality flowed through him. It made his cock twitch in his hand and he stroked it more fervently.

She licked her lips, letting out a light, amused laugh, “Such a naughty boy, detective. I know there’s more darkness in you. I want to hear it all. What else do you dream of?”

“Taking you into my home. F-fucking you-” he stumbled over the word “fucking” as it still felt so forgein on his lips to openly talk this dirty. “In my bed. On my wife’s side. Forcing her to watch while I make you unravel on my tongue. Showing her exactly what she is missing out on. Showing her what kind of man I could be if she’d only open herself up to experiment more.”

He couldn’t believe the filth he was allowing himself to admit. These were his private thoughts. They were never meant to be exposed to anyone. She had that effect on him. His skull was cracked open and his most shameless self was laid bare.

“You’re poor, poor wife,” she mewled. “She deserves to have someone tend to her needs, too. I know she wants it. All women do. You’ve just never pushed her far enough because you’re weak, Jeb Pyre.” She removed her fingers from her pussy and sat up, letting her dress fall back over her hips. She stared him down with her possessive gaze. “Get on your knees,” she ordered.

He didn’t even hesitate. He released his hand from his cock and knelt down before her. She slowly got to her feet to take a stand directly in front of him. She was so close he could smell her sex clinging to her skin.

“Men like you are always searching for something to worship.You told me you don’t believe in God. You told me you’ve lost your way. You have nothing to hold onto.” She trailed her finger, still glistening with her slick, over his bottom lip. “If you’ve lost your God then worship me instead. I’m your new God now, detective. Open your mouth and worship me. Cleanse my fingers with your tongue.”

His lips parted and she slipped two fingers over his tongue. He closed around her, bathing her clean, tasting the remnants of her devine pussy. She slid her fingers down his throat causing him to gag.

“Good boy,” she murmured her praises to him. “Sing me your devotions. Relax your throat. Soften your tongue. Take it like a man.”

Jeb reached up to gently take hold of her wrist. He showered her hand in soft kisses, trailing up her arm and back down again, lapping at the tips of her fingers with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth, moaning as she glided down his throat.

“Look at how hard you are. Desperate to be touched. Desperate to follow directions. Desperate to pray to anything that will have you.”

She jerked her hand away from him, leaving him feeling empty and cold. She grabbed his chin in her grasp. Her nails dug into his cheeks.

“Who’s your God, Jeb Pyre?” She asked.

“You,” he replied.

“Prove it. Pray at your altar.”

She lifted the skirt of her dress to expose herself to him. Her foot rested on the edge of the mattress so he could get an eye to eye look with his new lifeline. Jeb let out a shaky breath. His hands extended to wrap around her waist, drawing himself closer to her. He tilted his head to bring his quivering breaths to her heated core. She draped the hem of her dress over his head to curtain him the darkness where he belonged. In the dark, he could worship in secrecy.

His head pushed between her thighs to force her legs to widen for him. Her salty musk filled his senses, hooking him in like a drug. His eyes slipped closed at the first taste of the almighty. She was the bread of life. Honey flowed from the darkness and he relished in every drop. His tongue probed at her entrance, burying between her warmth, reaching deeper depths with lapping rolls. Teasing. Tantalizing. Tasting. He suckled at her clitoris, nibbling softly at the sensitive flesh, swirling her with his tongue. The sounds of her coos were all the praises he craved. He didn’t need practice to know how to please her. Surrendering to her was as natural to him as breathing.

“A virtuous woman is the crown to her husband,” she moaned, quoting the scripture. “And, yet, your sinning whore is the one who sits upon your head like a crown.”

He shivered at the debauchery of her words. He smiled against her pussy and took his time to savor his meal. She was a blessing bestowed upon him. A crown upon his head. His tongue thrust up inside of her, fucking her slowly and tenderly. He tightened his grip around her waist to hold her closer, a desperate man clinging to his lifesaver, moaning against her heated skin. The way she ground herself against him, thrusting herself deeper against his tongue, was enough to trigger his own needs. He humped his hips into the air, thrusting into nothing.

“Oh, sweet thing,” she hummed. “Is my favorite detective in need of some more attention? When was the last time you’ve had that gorgeously thick cock buried inside someone’s cunt?”

He whimpered, not letting up on his assault of her pussy, and clung tightly onto her waist. Eight months. Eight torturous months.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” she murmured, her voice thick with lust from trying to control her building orgasm. “I’ll take good care of you. I don’t want you getting too drunk off my pussy. Can’t have you completely let go before I’ve had my fun. Come here.”

She slid out from his grasp by pulling herself up onto the mattress. Her eyes were glazed over with a needy passion. Glassy and wet.

“Take your pants off,” she ordered. “I want to see you fully.”

They were already half way down his thighs. With a little push, they pooled around his ankles, pulled down quickly by the weight of his gun belt. He kicked off his nice dress shoes and stepped out of his pants to leave only his temple garments.

She smirked at the sight and hopped off the bed to take a step closer. Her hand wrapped around his tie to pull him down to her level. Her lips trailed over his as his eyes fluttered close. She glided her tongue across his lips, cleaning herself from them, with a gentle hum of approval.

“Who tastes better? Me or your wife?” She asked.

Jeb flustered in her question, “I-I wouldn’t know. She won’t let me. She believes it’s a form of sexual transgression.”

“Did you think about her?” She questioned. “When your tongue was buried inside of me, did she ever cross your mind?”

Guilt filled him, “Not once.”

She smiled, releasing his tie from her grasp, and began to work on extracting him from his perfectly crisp, white button up until he was left in nothing but his sacred garments.

She slowly eyed him up and down, “Keep the top on. I want you to remember exactly what your betraying as you fuck me.”

She sank to her knees, pulling down his underwear with her. His cock sat against his left thigh, hard and in need of attention. Her nails dragged along his sensitive, delicate skin. When she reached the tip of his cock, she carefully pushed a nail into the soft flesh while he hissed in pain. She left a crescent moon imprint behind which she quickly leaned down to kiss better. It was her harsh reminder that even if she was on her knees for him, she was still the one calling the shots.

He quite liked how the pain made him feel but he was too nervous to ask for more.

Her throat relaxed as she slipped him between her lips. He skimmed over her warm tongue with little jerking movements from his hips to push himself deeper into her. He wanted to reach out and grab her hair but was afraid to touch her. Instead, he balled his hands up at his side, digging his nails into his palm to try and elicit a bit more pain. It wasn’t the same as when she inflicted it.

Her head bobbed with an expertise that could only be brought from years of practice. It made his own oral skills seem novice and weak in comparison. His head leaned back as he stared at the ceiling, looking straight through it, and up into the heavens. There was no celestial kingdom up there. There was no God looking down on him. His heaven was right here in this room. His God was on her knees with her lips wrapped around his cock. This was the true meaning of life.

Jeb moaned out her name. Not Daisy. Not her stage name. Her real name. The one he kept locked up in a file in his desk. The name he would slowly stroke his finger over as he spent his late nights searching through his notes. The name only people who loved her were allowed to use.

She froze.

His cock fell from her lips and she stared up at him with a playful vengeance.

“What was that, detective?” She asked, her voice low and dangerous, but hiding an impish undertone. “I know I didn’t hear what I think I just did.”

He ran a hand over his face, too overwhelmed to be thinking straight, “Daisy. I meant Daisy.”

“You think you know me?” She got to her feet, wiping her bottom lip with her thumb. “You think you know the real me? Because I know the real you, Jeb, but do you know me?”

A heated red tint blushed across his cheeks, “I…don’t know…”

“Of course you don’t. Are you ever sure about anything in your life?” She raised a curious eyebrow at him. “I’m sure of most things that I do and say and believe. Can you say the same?”

He shook his head, “No. I can’t.”

She flashed him a poignant smile, “Name one thing you are 100% sure of right this very second.”

Jeb licked his lips. He knew.

“I am certain that I want to kiss you. Certain that I want to tear that dress from your body. And I’m certain that I want to throw you over this bed and fuck you like you deserve.”

“Then let go, detective. Give in. Become the animal you’ve always repressed. What are you waiting for?”

It was all the release he needed.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist to drag her against his body. His lips crashed down onto hers as he held her in his arms with a steellike grip. She didn’t kiss him back, so much as, surrendered her mouth to him. Her body went nearly limp and he kept her on her feet with his own strength. Her surrender brought forth a rush of devoted emotions and blind, sexual desire turning him into the beast he longed to become. He seized at her hair, tugging, pulling, wildly gripping, and attacked her mouth like it was the holy spirit he sought to believe in. She shuddered before his onslaught and melted into him. The more he reached for, the more he stole, the more she wanted it. She was driving him insane with an unrestrained passion of pure lust. He pitied any man who didn’t fall to his knees to worship her like the goddess she was. Her mouth was a sin that he wanted to violate.

Jeb violently grabbed at the straps of her sundress, nearly ripping them off, as he tore them down her body. The dress thumped to the floor to leave her completely naked and exposed. She didn’t flinch away. She didn’t try to hide and play with her coy modesty. She stood proudly before him exactly how a goddess should hold herself before a mortal man.

He slid his hands up her sides, grazing over the swell of her breasts, feasting on them with his eyes. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, pinching and flicking, while he attacked her mouth once more. She parted her lips to submit his tongue into her depths, sucking on it and twirling it around her mouth. Whenever he pinched her gorgeous nipples between his fingers, she would let out the most delicious moan and thrust her chest against his palms. His heart was racing with a pace that might kill him if he didn’t force himself to breath. His head was spinning in a dizzying whirlwind of thrill.

Jeb sank down and lowered his head to capture her nipple between his teeth, lashing at it with his tongue, listening to the gospel choir of whimpering moans coming out of her. She had shoved her nail into the head of his cock so he took a mouthful of her flesh, just under her beautifully darkened areola, and bit down hard. He had never bitten his wife in his life. He liked the way it felt as he tumbled deeper into his own carnal depravity. He wanted to defile her body and join her in their mutual corruption.

She arched her back, letting out a gasping shriek and letting it tumble down into a slurry of cooing whimpers, “Oh, Jeb. Yes. Yes.”

A circle of intended teeth marks, glistening with his saliva, shone proudly back at him. He liked marking her skin, claiming her as his own. It felt animalistic. Primal. A growl ripped from his throat, he was sick with lust, feverish and sweaty, panting with need. He grabbed at her hips and spun her around, pushing his hand between her shoulder blades to shove her face first into the mattress. Her ankles spread wide to allow him to have easy access.

He took a stumbling step back to admire the sight. Her pussy was glistening and spread open in wait for him. Beads of sweat dotted along her back down her spine. Her ass was sticking upwards, parted, so he could see her tight, little hole. She looked more ready to be fucked than anyone he’d ever seen. His wife had never presented herself to him like this. He imagined her splayed out in this same position and gave a breathless laugh. He could hardly even create a mental picture in his mind, it was so improbable.

“Something funny back there, asshole?”

Jeb gave a dark laugh in response, “Just the neverending joke that is my life.”

He lined the head of his cock up to her pussy, coating the tip in her slick, and bumping it back and forth over her clit.

Murder. Denying the Holy Spirit. Adultery.

Three of the worst things a good Mormon man could ever commit.

He’d already knocked denying the holy spirit off his list…might as well add another.

He sunk his cock into her. Steady and true. She let out an exhale and he watched her head tilt back to enjoy the sensation. So hot. So tight. Perfection. She was here to be fucked. Here to take his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathed.

He felt no shame. It was unusual for a Mormon not to feel shame but, tonight, buried balls deep in this woman, he felt nothing but relief. This was everything his body needed. He wanted fast and rough. He wanted to take her from behind with a feral abandon. He wanted to do all the things he wasn’t allowed to do until he was gripped with satisfaction.

Jeb grabbed her hips for leverage and began his awakening. Tonight, he was becoming a new man. He fucked her with quick, short thrusts that slammed into her. Her ass slapped against his stomach with each pound. She filled the room with the sounds of her gasps and erotic moans. Depending on how hard he rammed into her, she’d even let out little shrieks. He liked those sounds best. They made him fuck her harder, dragging out his full length, then smacking back into her. Possessing her body. Over and over and over.

He didn’t even care that he wasn’t wearing a condom. Those were problems for later Jeb. Present Jeb had everything he could ever need.

Sweat dripped down his forehead. Ragged, heavy, heaving breaths tumbled from his lips. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, jerking her upwards, so he could feel her body against his. She arched her back with her head rolling against his. He inhaled the scent of her hair fusing with the musk of their sex. He fumbled his hands around to capture her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands, her rock hard nipples dragging across his palm. She reached an arm around the side of his head to hold her steady from the onslaught of vigor his hips were causing her.

“Oh, fuck, Jeb!” She cried. “You needed this, baby. You needed this to happen. Let go. Let it all out. Give me everything you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

Jeb whimpered out a sob in response, sounding pathetic even to his own ears. All he wanted was someone to listen, someone to take care of him, someone to understand.

He tumbled them both against the side of the mattress, falling on top of her. Her head turned, leaning against the covers, so he could shower the side of her face with wet, tear stained kisses. He nibbled on her earlobe, lapped his tongue at the corner of her lips, and dragged his teeth along the edge of her jaw. She was made to be devoured. His hips hammered with an agonizing precision into her heat. They were trapped in a hurricane, holding onto each other for dear life, as the maelstrom of building emotions swept them away.

He could feel her clenching down around him. He knew she was close. He was, too, but he wanted her to cum first. His goddess deserved to reach euphoria before he did. His hand slipped down her side and wedged itself between her hips and the mattress to find a home between the slick fire of her lips. She whined, bucking her hips, the moment he found her clit, tormenting it with his fingers.

“Cum for me,” his raspy, lust drunk voice growled in her ear. “Let me feel you unravel on my cock.”

Her body shook. Waves rippled over her skin with each hard pound of his cock into her. He could feel her tightening. Clenching. Gripping. A mangled yelp tore from her throat. When she orgasmed, she gave him everything. Her entire body surrendered to him. It burst from her with everything she could give. Her eyes widened, her mouth parted in a silent shriek, her spine arched. Like a demon possessing her body, she writhed under him with jerking, frantic thrusts. He wrapped his arms around her, collecting her tightly against him, to try and hold her together so she didn’t combust into the flames of Hell.

He let out a whimper as he desperately tried to hold off his own orgasm. He wanted to let her ride out her ecstasy on his cock without him cumming inside of her.

Her legs gave out and she sunk onto her knees, letting him slip out of her, “I got you, baby. I’wan’taste you. Use me.”

Without missing a beat, she ushered him straight out of her pussy and into her wet, waiting mouth. His eyes closed as his head fell back. He let out a long, drawn out moan. His hand found her hair, no longer feeling nervous to touch her or manipulate her how he pleased. He helped push her forward to take more and more of him. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

She let him slide down her throat, relishing his cock with her tongue, tasting herself on his tender flesh. He balled a fistful of her hair into his grasp.

“I’m-I’m-I” he stuttered out, not able to finish the sentence, but she got to the hint.

Her pace quickened. Her suction around him tightened. He felt himself tense up before an explosion of dopamine flooded his brain with a loud cry of pleasure.

She straightened her back, moaning softly, as she swallowed down the hot spurts of his semen. Her fisted hand continued to massage his shaft while her mouth tended diligently to his crown.

Jeb’s mouth hung open, tears flowed freely down his face, and he eventually managed to stumble backwards away from her. He crashed into the back wall and slid down to his ass, shaking.

She crawled across the floor to drape herself into his lap. His arms snaked around her, thankful for having something to hold onto. His mind felt like he was floating away. His body felt amazing but his emotions were in turmoil. She stroked her fingers through his hair and left soft kisses along his neck.

He had done it. There was no going back now.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured against his sweat stained skin, as if reading his mind. “You did what you had to do. Sometimes your body knows better than your brain. It was telling you what it needed. It’s just like taking a spoonful of medicine to fight off a cold. There are times when you need to give in and give your body what it craves.”

He craved her. Daisy. And everything that she represented. Even at this moment, after he had already had her, after he had given in, he should be feeling horror, disgust, shame, but he only wanted more of her. That’s why the tears were freely flowing. Not because he was humiliated by his sins but because he wanted more.

This was the life he wanted to live. He had gotten a taste, a spoonful, of the other side. A side he could never have. A side he would always be reaching for but never able to obtain due to the religion he was trapped in. His priorities had to remain elsewhere. He had family to care for. Children to raise. He was their only hope for a different future. He would never allow Rebecca to take his kids from him. He would do whatever he needed to keep her docile and oblivious. He could save his children from the inside, even if that meant selling his soul to a God he didn’t believe in.

Everything was so clear to him now. There was no more confusion. No more doubt.

Daisy and his green light.

The inability to ever reach what he truly desired.

A/N: If you dare to ask me to write a part two and you don't reblog detailing in great detail everything you liked and enjoyed about this story, then I will curse your entire family and block you. No one gets to ask for a part two without doing their damn part and reblogging first xoxo

Tagging some people who seemed like they might be interested in this smutty lil fic: @moonyslove78 @raindropsandteaandtears @withahappyrefrain @lxinesux @liz-allyn (i dont care if youre hardly on tumblr anymore liz i will tag you in everything i do until the end of time deal with it)

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield fic #jeb pyre #jeb pyre fic #jeb pyre x reader #jeb pyre smut #under the banner of heaven #utboh #utboh jeb pyre #jeb pyre imagine #blooming violets fic #blooming violets

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circle-with-me · 4 months

Note

insect 3x3!

i’m posting more than three sentences but i was honestly excited to share this bit with everyone :)

NSFW Noah x Reader under the cut ♥️

"I questioned everyone I knew at that party." Noah breathes, nuzzling into your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. "Damn near threatened the guy who hosted the party to help me find you." He presses into you, grinding into your ass slowly.

You tilt your head to the side granting him more access to your neck. Noah takes full advantage and starts to bite and suck on your flesh. He slides his hand up to your face, turning it back to look at him.

"I'll do anything, beautiful. Anything to feel you around my cock again."

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #wips #wip weekend #fic: i’m a winged insect you’re a funeral pyre

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willowhaired · 9 months

Text

Fresh Start

Jeb Pyre × Reader

Summary: After shutting the case of the Lafferty brothers, Jeb finds it difficult to find his place in the church - so much so that he divorces his wife and starts anew in Boulder, Colorado. What he didn't expect was a pretty evidence handler at the Boulder PD.

(Please note that in this story Jeb has no children.)

Word count: 3,381

Warnings: mentions of religion, swearing, a bit steamy but nothing explicit

After shutting the case, Jeb tried his best to re-integrate into his community. To at least "sing the song", even if he no longer believed the words, as his partner suggested - but he was still eyed with suspicion and the forceful kindness of his fellow churchgoers became sickening. He felt as if he was tested, and they pressured him into recanting his beliefs at every opportunity. It was the worst with his wife who got him promising he'd stay faithful to the church whenever she felt uneasy, which was more often than he liked. He could see her mind turn whenever they were in the same room as if he was under constant surveillance. It angered him, but he knew showing it would throw him into a pit even deeper.

Things in the bedroom were terrible. Beca was insistent on conceiving, and he didn't blame her for it. He knew what it meant to her. Still, he was growing tired of having sex - a thing which he'd never thought was possible for a man. Somehow, whatever trick or new lingerie his wife would try just made him desire her even less. Whenever he couldn't perform, he'd blame it on work, but that opened a whole can of worms he didn't want to talk about. Arguments were frequent and even calm days were disturbed at least by a quarrel.

He got out when his mother passed. By then, the tension was palpable, not only in his marriage, but in the church. Eyes were even wider and glued to him - they expected him to turn to his faith in a time of need as such.

But he finally felt free. He divorced his wife, leaving her in shame, and the bishop was quick to retaliate by excommunicating him.

He was finally free.

He moved to Boulder, Colorado, to escape his own home, the cocoon. It was only natural that Taba followed him.

'You could stay, you know?' Jeb said one day as they were having lunch together. He bought fries.

'And be left in the snake pit alone? Not a chance.'

It made Jeb smile. He'd never conceal the amount of relief this gave him. Because he was afraid. As much as he wanted to get out, the newness of the "outside world" scared him. To have his friend by his side on this new journey gave him hope.

They both got a job at the Boulder Police Department and Jeb quickly became a favourite among his superiors and fellow officers. With no family and a pain to drown, he was always first to apply for night shifts, weekends, especially holidays. He poured his all into work.

'You are becoming a bit of a workaholic,' Bill noted on one Christmas Eve. There was a snowstorm outside, unlike anything else he had seen in Utah.

'You are here with me every time,' Jeb pointed out, watching the wind raging outside.

'Yes, but I'm not staying overtime,' his partner adjusted himself in his seat. It was getting to him not being able to smoke because of the crazy weather. 'Besides, you're young. You should find yourself someone.'

'I have you.'

'I'm flattered, but I don't like you like that,' Taba chuckled but was met with the mortified stare of his fellow detective. A lifetime of conditioning is difficult to weed out.

'What I'm saying is,' he started again. 'This is a new town. Maybe there's someone who tickles your fancy.'

Jeb honestly doubted that. He didn't find anyone interesting, and even if he had, he wouldn't be ready to open up.

That was until you came along.

You were the new evidence handler, archiving and organising everything the officers brought along, let it be testimonies or physical evidence. You were young and sweet which didn't sit right with him: he didn't want you to look at all the darkness that was out there in the world. He reckoned you should be protected from it, living in a bubble, not having your delicate features be degraded away by the horrors.

But above all, you were incredibly attractive. He saw other police officers trying to charm you or readily offer their help whenever there was an evidence box that "looked a little too heavy". Even Bill got into a harmless banter with you on occasion - you were easy on the eyes, he said, and Jeb agreed, though not out loud.

He could feel his heart in his throat whenever you passed by, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach whenever you arrived at work. Looking at you felt like a sin.

It just so happened that the two of you were very similar. Even if it meant staying longer, you'd get all the handwritten notes typed in, each piece of evidence filed away correctly. Before leaving, you cleaned your desk, despite it being a catastrophe the whole day.

It was a Thursday night and the detective was about to leave to check out a crime scene. On his way out, he spotted you, at your desk, still lost in paperwork. He checked the clock and then outside: it was already dark.

'It's getting late,' he announced as he stepped to you.

'Oh, it's alright,' you shrugged. 'Just a few more things to file away.'

He contemplated for a second before turning to a young officer:

'Deputy Jones, when Miss Y/L/N is done with her work could you give her a ride home?'

'That's really not necessary,' you knew you were blushing and you didn't want to cause any trouble to anyone.

''Course, Sir,' Deputy Jones said without hesitation. Jeb nodded to the deputy and left you with an "Evening" and completely confused.

That night, he could not sleep. He worried you might not have been escorted home, or worse, took a liking to the young deputy. He should've taken you home himself.

Even though he was head over heels for you, you got the impression that he did not like you. He was cold, distant and you'd never seen him smile in your presence. When he dropped off any evidence, he seemed as though he was trying to escape the soonest possible.

'Five forged checks and interrogation of two witnesses,' you scanned through the documents on your desk, then flashed a warm smile at him. 'Anything else?'

'No, thank you,' he replied quickly, his mouth more crooked than ever.

You watched him walk to his office. It was a shame, really, upsetting, even. For one, you never gave any reason for him to hate you, and besides… You found him incredibly handsome.

He was eyeing you from his office, sometimes glancing in the direction of Jones, even though it was a few weeks after that incident. Jeb made it a point to avoid you, but couldn't fool his partner.

'I don't blame you for liking her,' he flipped the page in the folder of their current case. 'I would be surprised if you didn't.'

'I've never felt this way,' Jeb admitted nervously. His friend had a smug grin on his face before it turned serious.

'Look, you should make your move soon. Nobody is blind in this department.'

It was this conversation that ultimately pushed him to ask you out. It was a few days later, and all of your colleagues had left already. You were still finishing up some tasks and he tried to do his own, but his nerves wouldn't let him concentrate. Finally, he gave in.

'Are you staying for longer?' Jeb had to swallow for he felt like his throat was going to close up.

'No, I'm packing away for tonight.'

'Do you… Need a ride home?' He asked, then quickly added: 'I can take you.'

'Oh, I… Don't wanna cause you any trouble,' you chuckled nervously and pushed the last folder to its place.

'I insist.'

'Well, okay,' you gave in sheepishly and grabbed your coat.

The drive home was even more awkward, if possible. You tried to strike up a conversation but he hardly replied. He sat stiffly behind the wheel and kept his eyes on the road. He parked just outside your apartment complex.

'You know, Detective Pyre, you don't have to take me home.'

'I just like to know you're safe.'

'Anyway,' you said quickly over the sound of your loud heartbeat. 'Thank you for the ride.'

You were about to step out of the car when he blurted out:

'Can I take you out for dinner sometime?'

You turned back and were muted by surprise.

'You can say no if you don't want to,' he felt as if he was being suffocated by his own tie so he pulled it looser.

'Yes,' you hurried your answer. 'This Saturday?'

'Perfect. Pick you up at 7.'

Friday, he was a mess. If it was possible, he avoided contact with you even more which left you doubting he ever asked you out. The truth was, he didn't know how to react. You made him feel such emotions he was unfamiliar with; was he supposed to just wave at you as he passed by when he felt his insides burning with the heat of a thousand suns?

'Bill, I need your help,' Jeb closed the door of their office behind him. 'I'm taking Y/N on a date tomorrow.'

'Does she know?' His partner teased, but as Jeb replied with such exasperation, he knew this was no time for jokes.

'Of course!'

'So you finally asked her out. What do you need me for?'

'I'm nervous,' he leant to his desk and pulled his hand across his face. 'I can't even look at her.'

Bill glanced out towards you: 'I think she looks pretty, still.'

'Don't do that,' his friend begged defeatedly.

'Jeb,' Bill looked at him. 'Do me a favour and relax. Just be yourself.'

'What if the church thing freaks her out? What if I make a fool of myself?'

'There's no way around it, pal,' he shrugged. 'Sooner or later, she will know. Don't worry, I haven't seen her eat anyone. Try and enjoy it.'

It was easier said than done.

Jeb knew he was done for right as he picked you up on Saturday. You had a black dress on that hugged your body, and your shoulders were bare for you had your hair in a bun. Inside of him was a raging battle between what his former church made him think about your attire and what he felt. He was hoping he could forget about both, and most importantly not mention his past, but it was unavoidable.

'No, I… I have never drunk.'

'You haven't?' You asked in disbelief. 'Surely you were a teenager at some point.'

'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'I grew up in a very strict church. Alcohol was forbidden.'

'So it wasn't the kinda wine tasting that disguised itself as Sunday church, huh?' You joked. 'Are you still part of this church? Should I not drink?'

'No, no,' he shook his head. 'I was excommunicated. I no longer hold those beliefs.'

'So…' you swirled the wine around in your glass. 'Why don't you drink?'

'I guess old habits die hard.'

'Do you want a taste? It's sweet wine. If you like lemonade, you're gonna love this.'

You held your glass towards him and he took you up on your offer. His movements were sheepish, almost fearful as he held the glass to his lips and took a small sip. It really was sugary, with an uncanny resemblance to the way he felt about you: sweet but intoxicating. Throughout the dinner you shared a few glasses, most of which you drank, but he was finally easing up by the alcohol. Jeb felt his stomach warm from the wine; he was more comfortable with his feelings towards you, while also finding it harder to keep them in control. Your eyes seemed even more alluring and your cheeks were tinted red from the alcohol. He found it cute and smiled dumbly at you throughout the whole night; and honestly, with him opening up, you really enjoyed yourself. Not only that, you realised that you did actually like him: he was kind and wholesome and made such intelligent remarks you knew he was listening to your every word. You joked and gently poked his hand and his eyes lit up like a teenage boy's. He tried to (very seriously) pick out the notes of the wine, only to add at the end that it mostly just smelled like alcohol. He accidentally kicked you under the table and you teased him whether you were getting friendly.

You had your fingers crossed that the effects of the wine would stretch into the workdays.

But apparently, you spoke too soon.

'Thank you for the night, Jeb, I really enj…' you could barely open your mouth when he stopped the car at your home, and his lips were on yours. His left hand came up from the gearshift to cup your face as his quick, eager kiss was followed by a deeper one. You leant closer to him and rested your hand on his thigh. You got so lost in the sensations (the scent of his cologne, how his tongue explored your mouth against yours, or how it ran across your lips every once in a while), that you didn't know how much time had passed. Was it minutes or half an hour?

'I'm sorry,' he broke away abruptly. 'I can't do this.'

You couldn't really comprehend his words.

'I… I don't think I'm ready for this,' he followed, seeing your puzzled expression.

'We can take it slower,' you chuckled.

'It's not about that,' his body was turned away from you. 'I can't be with you.'

Honestly, this left you in shock. You don't remember if you said anything or just left the car - the whole thing didn't make sense. He was the one asking you out, the date went well, he came in for a kiss… Which was amazing.

You were confused, and above all, hurt. You thought that there must've been something so wrong with you for him to turn you down like this.

When Jeb told Bill about the date, his friend's first excitement died away as he heard how the night ended.

'What's wrong with you?' Bill asked, almost angrily. 'That date was going great and you chose to close it like a teen girl who hasn't fucked before?'

'Language!' The other hissed.

'That girl likes you. You come to me worried you'd screw up the date but you did it in such a way I would've never imagined.'

'It's not easy, Bill. I was raised to believe everything I've just done is a sin. Even though I no longer think the same, I…' he ran his fingers through his hair. 'Can't help but feel that it's wrong.'

His partner seized him up, sighing out the frustration he felt.

'I guess I understand. You do what you feel comfortable with. But she'd be good for you.'

But would I be good for her - Jeb pondered, staring at the papers in front of him.

That was until an office party: his colleagues pressured him into beer after beer, so he'd already had more than he should've. Then, you arrived - late, but no less beautiful. The cream dress you had on was a lot more modest than the form-fitting one you had on during the date, yet its satin fabric draped on your body perfectly. You looked better than ever, which he never thought was possible: your smile was charming and your eyes twinkled in the decorative lights - though he couldn't help but notice that you carefully avoided his direction.

The other officers were quick to bring you your favourite drink and they'd made it a competition who would make you laugh louder. Hearing your chuckles turned his blood bitter, and he kept shifting between chewing the inside of his mouth and adjusting his lips.

'And you, Detective Pyre? Anyone special?' A fellow officer asked.

'Who? Me?' He said, half-stupefied, then chuckled, his eyes on the table. 'No, no one.'

To be fair, since the failed date, you had been avoiding him just as he did with you. You gave a cryptic description of the date to your friends, and your colleagues knew nothing of the encounter: they merely concluded that Jeb's past hunted him, and that's why he was so uncomfortable in your presence.

Maybe they were closer to the truth than anyone thought.

You accompanied some officers out for a cigarette; you were craving some fresh air and the cold of the night on your cheeks. You borrowed a cigarette from Detective Taba to take the edge off.

'You, dear, look prettier every day,' he took a long drag from his cigarette after lighting yours. 'Is there a gentleman you saw before coming here?'

'Nah,' you smiled sheepishly as if the suggestion itself was ridiculous. 'I was looking after an old relative and my cousin arrived late to take over.'

'Don't act so innocent,' he scorned with a grin and gestured with his cigarette. 'I bet you make every man turn anywhere you walk by.'

He wasn't wrong: you only had to take some letters to the post office to come back with a date for the next day, but lately, all you had on your mind was the kiss from a certain detective. Even at work, especially after seeing him, your thoughts would slip from your grip to morph into his firm grip on your waist or the unmatching tenderness of his lips. You'd mistyped witness names and found that you had catalogued a set of crime scene photographs into the wrong folder. You were incredibly embarrassed, despite the officers only laughing at these mishaps, reassuring you that they happened more often than ever with you.

So, you avoided Jeb's eyes, knowing that their dark brown colour would melt you right on sight.

Even though Bill was nudging him every ten minutes to go up to you, Jeb couldn't bring himself to do it. All night, he had been imagining how your dress would fall from your shoulders if he'd unzipped it and how soft your skin would feel under it - softer than the satin itself, he was sure.

The air of the venue grew heavy with each passing minute. Jeb resolved to peel the stickers from the beers, while you were constantly entertained by at least two of your coworkers. They were all respectful, although sometimes a bit loud. You needed a few moments of peace; so you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Once on your way back, you bumped into him.

'Hey,' you forced a smile.

'How you're doing?'

'Good, good. And you?'

'Pretty wasted,' Jeb admitted with a chuckle and after a brief pause (during which he stared long into your eyes and your legs began to feel like jello), he brushed a few hairs that got stuck in your mouth behind your ear. You got a whiff of his cologne, something you only caught once or twice when he brought evidence bags to your table. It always left you spellbound.

'I'm so sorry about that night.'

'Don't be,' you said. 'It was an amazing date.'

Jeb was only half-there, his thumb brushed the edge of your lip.

'Until the end I suppose,' he said dreamily, as if not even to you.

'Do you like me?' You asked abruptly.

'I'm fucking mad about you.'

His answer threw your head in a spin. You grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss which he reciprocated with a groan. His hands quickly found the small of your back from which one ran up into your hair. Unconsciously, he gripped a handful of your locks to pull your head back and give him better access to your lips. You were rendered weak with a wave of emotion but this very same thing reminded you where you were and that any second colleague could appear.

You cupped his face and gently pulled away.

'Maybe this is not the best place…'

'No, it isn't,' he agreed. 'I want to make it up to you. Please, let me take you on another date.'

'I'm free on Sunday.'

'Well, not anymore.'

#jeb pyre x reader #jeb pyre #utboh #under the banner of heaven #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #reader insert #jeb pyre imagine #andrew garfield imagine

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sincericida · 1 year

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Andrew Garfield with friends ❤️

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reidslovely · 2 months

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okay wait first ! just cause i’m curious.

what’s your hc of utbh ending?? how would you continue / end his story if it was up to you ?

I've already written a little about this a couple months ago but I never went fully into detail. I think he leaves the church personally, he seems very accepting of everything that happened and I know it takes a lot for him to pull out but it is what's best for him and his daughters and he knows that. I do see him and his wife separating but cohabitating for the sake of their girls. He's definitely a hot topic around the community seeing as he still works for the police department but is no longer an active participant in his church. However, being a part of his daughter's lives means more to him than anything they could say about him. He is always reminding them about the issues within the church and how it can be unsafe and if they ever feel like they're ready to leave they can work with that. He and Becca are cordial they do their best to co-parent and cohabitate but they do have rocky parts of their relationship.

I can see once his daughters are a little older that he moves out and probably relocates down to Vegas with Taba to work. However, I also hc that this is what he does after UTBH initially. He and his wife split custody with their daughters its easy because their homeschooled. However, I think Jeb would work to get them into a public school in Vegas once they're a little bit more adjusted to the living situation, maybe causing Becca to move closer.

So use which ever one you guys like we can go off of!

#jeb pyre x reader #bambi talks #utbh #jeb pyre #jeb pyre x self insert

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foreverrogers · 2 years

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Hii Hayes!!!

Congrats on 1.5k!! 🥰🥳 Very well deserved indeed. I love your work ❤️

I'm here to ask for some austen if you feel up for it. I was out of ideas for quotes so I went into my notes app and I found this from The Cruel Prince by Holly Black:

It turns out that having kissed someone, the possibility of kissing hangs over everything, no matter how terrible an idea it was the first time.

I was wondering if you could write something on it with Jeb Pyre (or any of your other characters I love them all).

Love ❤️🥰

thank you thank you hun!!! i don't think I've ever written a blurb so fast, this quote is so perfect!

cw: post utboh, smoking, drunken kissing, allusions to loss of faith, very brief mention of hitting knuckles as a punishment {1.5k}

austen - the queen of romance. send me a favourite quote of yours (can be anything! books, poetry, plays, songs) and I'll make it the theme of a little blurb/dialogue

he had been drunk. the first time, at least. he still wasn't used to being drunk, had spent so many years being told it was a sin.

maybe it was a sin, but he didn't care anymore.

wanting you felt a little bit like that, too. like it was wrong, like you were something out of bounds he should feel bad indulging in, made him feel like a child sneaking treats out of the pantry when nobody was looking, waiting for somebody to come scold him, hit his knuckles until they couldn't reach anymore.

it didn't help that you were younger than him, not much but just enough for it to make everything feel a little scandalous, the pretty young thing at the front desk who had caught his eye on day one.

he had felt worse about it, then, when you had first met, about seeing you and immediately wondering what you felt like, what you smelt like, what you tasted like.

he got to find out all those things, eventually, in the alley of a cop bar at midnight during a retirement party. he had watched you slip out of the back door, finds you lit by the dim, flickering yellow of the street lights and the faint glow of your cigarette. god, you were bad. bad for him. a bad idea. reaching, knuckles waiting to be hit.

you smile at him when you see him approaching, all wide and warm, red painted lips curving deliciously.

he smiles back, smaller, a little less sure. he might be drunk, but he wasn't far gone enough to not realise he was encroaching on dangerous territory just by being here with you, alone in the dark. he still wasn't even sure if you thought about him like that, the way he thought about you, takes all the half glances he had caught over the past couple of months and calls them circumstantial evidence at best.

there's no greeting as he slides next to you, back pressed to the steady brick wall. all you do is offer him your cigarette, already burned halfway down and stained lightly with your lipstick.

"i don't smoke, but thank you, though."

you don't relent, keep your hands stretched between you, ash swaying slowly to the ground. "can you be tempted?" by more than a cigarette, yes.

he looks from the cigarette to you, watches the flutter of your lashes and those doe eyes looking up at him and thinks you must be doing this on purpose, putting on a show to draw him in, doesn't think anybody could look this beautiful without trying.

he takes the nub between his fingers without looking away from you, brings it to his lips with a long, steady inhale.

you start to grin at him, at some point in the seconds of his inhale, giddy realisation that he's done this before.

so maybe he had smoked, just a little, a few puffs behind the station when things got especially stressful, enough to take the edge off but not enough to come home smelling like smoke. you wouldn't mind, he thinks, if it was you he was coming home to.

"thought you said you didn't smoke."

jeb exhales, unwavering, relaxes against the building, proves to calm the hot anxiety spreading through his veins at this new proximity to you. "it can be our secret."

your smile softens, and you study his face so intently it makes his throat close up a little.

"needed a break?" he asks, just so he can change the subject, so he can break you out of whatever puzzle of him you were putting together in your mind. "from in there?"

he offers you the cigarette, and you accept it with a hum of agreement. "i don't think the wives like me very much," you mutter, look away to breathe in one last drag before snubbing it out against the brick. "don't trust me. think all i am is a skirt and a smile to distract their husbands."

jeb doesn't know what to say, and so he doesn't say anything.

there's nothing to do now, with the cigarette gone, has to give you his whole attention when you meet his eyes again. "do you find me distracting, jeb?"

there's silence, long and heavy.

jeb doesn't know what to say, and so he kisses you.

there's no delay, no surprise. you kiss him back like you had been expecting it all along, hooking your fingers into his loosened tie and pulling him to you until he's pressing you against the wall.

you're soft, like he knew you would be, soft where his hand comes up to cup your cheek and his arm moves to wrap around your waist. you taste like smoke and liquor and sugar and you smell the same, too, the sweet cut of your perfume and your lip gloss.

jeb doesn't remember the last time he kissed someone, but he sure as hell knows he's never kissed anyone like this, hot and hot and hot, molten honey dripping from your tongue.

the heavy back door opens with a screech, and by the time the two drunken officers stumble out of the bar jeb's already sprung to the opposite side of the alley.

they both fall past without noticing you, or the thick tension they walk right through, tripping over their own feet and into the deserted main road.

jeb's not sure if he's blanched or if he's blushing, but either way he's glad you can't tell under the dim lights.

he knows by the way you watch him as he walks into the station the next morning that you remember everything clear as day. jeb can, too, does more than just remembers it, can still feel you all over him like a haunting reminder of his indiscretions.

if he thought you were distracting before, he was unprepared for how distracting you were when you were trying. and you were really trying, always coming up with new ways to corner him, to get him alone in the copy room or the break room or even just walk past him in the corridor, brush arms without catching his eye.

every time he would try not to look at you, and every time he would fail, would find your eyes already lingering and the quirk of a smile on your lips. he tries not to watch the curl of those lips, tries not to think about kissing you again.

he gets the overwhelming feeling that you're playing with him, a dangerous game of cat and mouse he's certain he's losing, on the precipice of getting eaten alive.

it's a deserted night, a sunday, and with no one to go home to jeb stays at work long after the sun has set over the mountains.

when he walks into the car park you're leaning against the hood of his car. you smile at him, like you had in the alley. you're even wearing the same lipstick. "i was starting to think you might be living at your desk."

"just, uh..." jeb furrows his brows at you, steps slowing until he pauses a safe distance away, taken aback, undeniably confused. "had a lot of paperwork to catch up on... are you... okay?"

"yeah, 'course i am," you're still smiling, sickly sweet, tone almost too innocent, the type of innocence that only exists to hide something wicked underneath. "i just didn't really feel like going home by myself, so i was wondering if you wanted to... do something tonight."

he almost misses it. by myself. "... together?"

your smile brightens, amusement in your eyes now, and you breathe a gentle laugh as you tilt your head. "yes?"

jeb has to clear his throat, tries not to draw too much attention to the way he loosens his tie a little, an attempt to remember how to breathe again. "uh, what did you have in mind?"

"i don't know, anything, really. dinner? movie?" and, after a few beats, "or you could just take me home, if you'd like."

jeb gapes at you, just slightly, the lightest purse of his lips, and he doesn't mean to but he also can't seem to stop.

"don't look so scared," you smile, back to playing that faux innocence. it's sheer now, though, jeb can see exactly what's underneath, and it takes a lot more restraint than he's willing to admit to not give into it immediately. you take a slow step forward, and then another, soft clack of your heels against the concrete ringing in his ears. "i don't bite, promise."

jeb still hasn't closed his mouth, and now you're close enough that he thinks you might actually act upon it when you look at his lips. he speaks, only because if he kisses you again he's not sure he'll be able to stop. "dinner sounds nice."

come join my 1.5k sleepover!

#jeb pyre #jeb pyre fic #jeb pyre fanfiction #jeb pyre x reader #utboh #andrew garfield #hayes' 1.5k celebration #foreverrogers' 1.5k celebration #hayes muses #under the banner of heaven #queue <3

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backtothefanfiction · 6 months

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WIPS & 2024 Plans!

Hey ya’ll. So as hinted at I have a lot of ideas and works in progress so wanted to kind of do a little summary and tease some of the stuff I’m currently throwing around and kind of give and make a plan of action for the coming year regarding my content here.

I finally finished the office kinktober prompt after nearly two months of it being half written as said in the authors note, I am giving up on the idea of kinktober/kink til Christmas altogether. But there are still a few ideas that came from that list I do really want to write which will be included in the future ideas portion of this post but yeah… let’s just start with the current WIPs and what’s gonna come first.

Current WIPS (with summaries)

In order of completion with rough estimate of posting!

Spiders and Lace

1920s Mob Spider-Man Au where Peter starts dating a young socialite in order to get to her criminal brother.

(First Part releasing this December)

The Secrets We Keep

A Jeb Pyre (Under The Banner of Heaven) multi chapter story. Jeb is starting a new job in a new town after the Lafferty case where he meets an old school friend. Both of them are running from their hometown and hiding secrets, but will those secrets crush this new budding romance?

(Series starting in January, date to be announced)

WIPS Currently On The Shelf

These have all either been teased and parts not posted or one or two parts posted then currently abandoned. I have stuff written for these and aim to go back to them at some point I just don’t know if or when.

I Will Always Find You

A multiple part Pedro and Oscar character’s fic featuring different linked AUs looking at the idea of past lives and reincarnating with the same souls.

(I keep picking this up and putting it back down but I love the idea and it means so much to me and I want to do it right, so until I can do it justice, it’s on the shelf.)

Metanoia

When Mando takes on a job to retrieve a kidnapped young senator, the two of them end up on a journey that has Mando questioning his whole way of life.

(I have posted the first chapter of this but may take it down as I don’t know when I’ll go back to this idea and I think I want to adjust it anyway. This is basically just a story to really go into what I wanted from Mando’s journey meeting other mandalorians and how it makes him question his creed seeing how other mandalorians live and getting to really explore that inner turmoil.)

Future/2024 Ideas

Some of these may get written some time next year, some of them may come later, some may never get written at all, but I wanted to share my thoughts anyway.

No Body No Crime

Based on the Taylor Swift song, this is a murder mystery that would feature multiple crossover characters from Dave York (the murdered husband), Joel Miller (the accomplice lover), Jeb Pyre (the detective) and possibly a few other characters from across the Pedro, Andrew and Oscar character lists. I love this song and I do have a whole list of ideas just based on Taylor Swift songs which may become their own mini series with a song for each album, but I really want to write a multi chapter fic based on this song.

Untitled Joel Miller Fic

I already made a post with this idea. Inspired by the Mummy, as I feel Rick O’Connell and Joel Miller give me similar energy. However instead of fighting Mummies we’d be fighting Infected to hunt down different artefacts a particular bookish main character wants to protect and preserve. Think road trips, myths, history and unlikely allies with ridiculous sexual tension.

Triple Frontier Boys One Shot

I’ve been fantasising about a very naughty TF boys one shot which is pretty much straight smut and one rocking night for reader. I did start writing some bits for this a few nights back, but didn’t like it the next day but plan to return to it at some point.

Tis The Damn Season

Another of those previously mentioned prompts inspired by Taylor songs, Tis The Damn Season is a Frankie Morales one shot that may come sooner than we think as it’s an idea set at Christmas. Frankie goes back to visit his parents one time a year and always ends up back at your place on Christmas Eve like your very own Santa Claus.

—————————————————

So those are my current WIPS, ideas and plans. Let me know which you’re most interested in.

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yandere-writer-momo · 2 months

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Yandere Short Stories:

Hell Fire

Yandere Priest x Herbalist Fem Reader

TW: abuse of power, yandere behavior, manipulation, and forced relationship

Pale hands affectionately cupped the soft cheeks of the sleeping maiden that rested on the bed in the dungeon. A bright smile on the young priest’s face as his fingers traced over her soft lips.

“You are finally here…” Aurel voice was as soft as a breeze. His blue eyes gentle and his lips pursed in thought. “You’re finally within my grasp.”

Aurel glanced around to make sure there were no other eyes watching before he crawled into the small bed beside (your name). His lanky arms wrapped around her vulnerable form in a vice like grip. Aurel buried his nose into her hair and deeply inhaled her sweet scent, a moan escaped his lips from how delectable (your name) smelled.

“I wonder if you’ll be happy to see me once you wake up.” Aurel thought aloud as his hands wandered her sleeping form. “We used to be so close when we were kids… we can get married just like we always wanted.”

Aurel brushed a few of his silver strands away from his blue eyes. His cheeks heated up at how beautiful (your name) had grown to be. “I’ve crawled my way to become a Cardinal, but I’m willing to bend the rules for you… so you just have to accept me.”

Aurel buried his face into her shoulders while he clutched her closer to his chest. His tongue clicked when he felt his she thinned out a bit. These heathens haven’t been feeding (your name) properly, have they? He’d punish them once he married her…

Aurel pressed a few stray kisses to her shoulders before he smiled to himself. He had destroyed her reputation as an herbalist by spreading rumors of her being a witch. It was a desperate and cowardly method, but she refused to be with him. What other choice did Aurel have? (Your name) had forced his hand for the last time and now she had the biggest choice to make.

Become his wife or burn at the pyre.

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yawnderu · 9 months

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You make it hard to be a ghost — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Mutual pining, yearning, fluff, conflicted emotions.♡

"That's enough out of you." Ghost barked as he entered your quarters, slamming a crumpled piece of paper onto your desk. You write poetry for him, sneaking it into pieces of his gear and clothes where you know he'll find them. He reads them every single time, the strings of his heart being pulled whenever he reads them. He'd never let you know he keeps them, never let you know just how much your handwritten thoughts truly affect him, but you already know.

"What else am I supposed to do with my love for you, Ghost?" You asked teasingly, though the fear of keeping being rejected was always there, gnawing on your heart every single time he denied your affections.

"I don't need your love." He spat out, British accent making his rejection somewhat harder. How do I let you know you're the sun that casts away my shadows? I can't. His gaze flickers back and forth as you stay quiet, a mixture of guilt and anxiety playing on his expressive eyes though he tried to keep a stern mask in place. "I don't have time for this." You make me feel something.

"You say that, but I know you enjoy what I write even if you don't believe my words." You stand up from your seat, slowly approaching Ghost as your hand gently holds his wrist, examining his tattoo sleeve. His senses are overwhelmed as you touch him, by the closeness of your body, the warmth of your hands, your gentle touch. He wants this for himself, but he can't accept it, yet he doesn't push you away. "Whose dog tags are these?" You inquire, looking at his tattoo with a curious gaze.

"An old friend." He replies shortly, breath hitching slightly. Those dog tags belong to Simon Riley. The Simon Riley who died the same day Ghost was born, the same Simon Riley who gave his murdered family a funeral pyre and was left as just a Ghost. You simply hum, knowing better than to press for more details.

"Stray." His voice finally cuts the silence, his tone more gentle than what you usually hear from him, despite the turmoil in his head. "I've never loved anyone." Other than my mum and brother. It pains him to say those words, but you deserve to know.

"I know." He looked at you with a gaze full of sadness, and you responded with a gaze full of love. Ghost pulls you closer, allowing himself to be vulnerable in this way for once in his life, hand resting warmly against your cheek as he leans closer, breathing in your hair and the scent of your skin. His nightmares and past haunt him, his trauma keeps him up at night, but you keep his soul alive.

"I truly love you, Simon." Your arms gently wrap around his neck and he grits his teeth. Simon. Simon had been dead for years, yet you somehow always found a way to bring him back to life. To make his defenses come crumbling down as if he didn't spend years carefully building them. You can feel the tension leaving his body, muscles relaxing and shoulders dropping. You're aware this is a big deal for Ghost, he never lets anyone get this close. You hear his heart beating wildly, his breath on your neck as his arms wrap around your waist hesitantly, bringing you closer and closer each passing second.

"I love you too." He whispered, swallowing the knot in his throat. It's the first time he's actually been able to say it. "I love you too." He repeats, just in case you missed it the first time.

2K notes · View notes

greatstormcat · 4 months

Text

Into the Fire

TF141 x f!reader Medieval AU

Part 1

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, violence, threat, injury detail, non-consensual touching

Today was a bad day, the worst day of your life in fact. Flames licked and snapped around your feet, creeping and jumping from one piece of wood to another as you watched helplessly. The heat and smoke were beginning to make it harder to breathe, not helped by the tight rope coiled around your stomach and chest to bind you to the wooden stake at your back.

Your watering eyes roamed over the crowd in the village square searching for any sign of help. Dirty, exhausted faces staring up at you impassively, although a few have a noticeable excitement gleaming in their eyes. The small knot of better dressed people at the front of the crowd are the most eager to watch. The priest and magistrate that called from your execution, along with their gaggle of fawning lackies, watch with rapt expressions. You begin to cough, lungs burning and heart hammering in your ribcage, as your skirt begins to smolder at the hem, and you try to kick away the burning bundles of sticks.

It’s a futile effort, you know this, but you can’t just let them do this without trying to fight back even a bit. You look around frantically again, and a dark shape moves at the back of the gathered spectators. The aching pain where you were struck dumb with an axe handle adds another layer of misery to your current predicament, and you begin to fervently pray to every god and goddess you’ve ever heard of in the hopes that one might just listen and intervene. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your skin heating beyond tolerance and send out your prayer with everything you can muster, on the precipice of turning your words into a curse instead.

A man on a horse rides through the crowd, disgruntled looks and shouts left in his wake. His hood covers his head, cloak fanned out over the animal’s flanks, but the sword at his hip is clearly displayed. He stops and leans down to speak to someone at random, who then points up at you, making the stranger's head snap up. The black smoke and tears in your eyes make it impossible to see his face clearly, but something shivers through you, cold against the rising flames.

Amidst indignant shouts of protest he rides forward, pushing people aside until he reaches your pyre and slips down from the saddle. The group immediately before the conflagration startle as the stranger marches up to them, his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. They appear to cower at whatever it is he says, waving their hands about like frightened birds but doing nothing to appease him. Eventually he shoves them out of his way roughly and jogs forward to the pyre. He kicks the burning material aside, risking himself as he pushes into the still young flames to get to your side. A dagger flashes in the burning light.

“You still alive?” He asks gruffly as he works at the ropes behind you.

“For now!” You shout, voice hoarse and you cough and hack, pulling desperately to loosen the ropes. They snap free, and the man grabs your arm, dragging you free and into cool, clear air before you can collapse into the burning wood below you.

“Right, you’re coming with me,” he announces, roughly patting down smouldering patches on your dress before hauling you over to his patiently waiting horse. He pulls himself into the saddle and grasps you firmly, heaving you up and over the horse's neck like a heavy sack. You don’t have time to protest at the undignified treatment, your head still spinning, and he turns the beast and drives it forward out of the village. He canters down the road, his horses hooves sparking on the damp cobbles of the road beneath your face until you reach a small copse of trees.

“Right, let’s get a look at you,” he grunts and pulls the horse to a stop. Your eyes have yet to stop streaming from the irritation of the smoke and heat, and once he drags you down from the horse you slump onto the ground, coughing and retching on all fours in the mud.

“Th-thank… you,” you managed to splutter out after a moment, and he crouches down in front of you with a deep chuckle.

“You okay?” he says, a large hand on your shoulder while you wheeze.

“I’ll be.. fine,” you reply, trying to steady your laboured breathing. Finally you manage to lift your head and look at your rescuer.

He is dressed better than anyone else you’ve seen in the village, his cloak covers a coat of good quality chain mail, soft leather riding boots and dark breeches. His gloves are good quality leather, and well cared for, and the hilt of the sword at his hip is intricately engraved. This is clearly not a peasant like you, and when he notices your eyes darting about his appearance he pushes back his hood to show his face fully. He is beautiful, with dark eyes that sparkle as he looks at you with concerned amusement. His smile tugs on a small scar beneath his left eye.

“I’m Kyle by the way,” he says by way of introduction and offers no more information than that. His eyes narrow as he sees the crusted blood on the side of your face from the blow you received earlier, a fleet twist of his features mars his beauty.

“Thank you again, Kyle,” you mumble and get to your feet unsteadily. He stands as well, and you are astonished by just how big he is, broad shoulders and chest, as well as tall. Whoever he is, he is well fed, strong and healthy. Certainly not working stock.

“What was going on back there? Why were they trying to kill you?” He asks while taking a water flask down from his saddle and handing it to you. You try to dust yourself off, knocking burnt patches and mud away, but it just spreads the muck and you give up with a frustrated groan and accept the flask, drinking eagerly before pouring small dashes on the burns on your hands and arms with a hiss.

“I was accused of witchcraft,” you say carefully, not sure what his response will be to this news.

“Oh,” he says, watching your failed attempts at cleaning yourself up. “I doubt you are.”

“Really?” You narrow your eyes at him, a sudden flair of indignation rising inside you. “How would you know if I was or not?”

“In my experience witches don’t hang around and let the flames get that close,” he answers coolly, and you feel he is poking fun at you. Your face burns for an altogether different reason.

“Is that why you rescued me? I looked too pathetic to be a witch?” you demand hotly, setting off another fit of coughing that ends with a distressed groan.

“Well, no…” he has the decency to look a little guilty now and you narrow your eyes. “They told me you were a healer, and I have need of your services. So as I just saved your life, you owe me a debt.”

“Are you serious?!” you shriek in disbelief, a wood-pigeon startling in the nearby trees and taking off with a flurry of wings. “You saved me so I had to help you?”

He looks down at you totally nonplussed.

“Basically, yes. I can always take you back, let them finish what they started,” he shrugs, his grin showing sharp incisors under his full lips. “That fire should be going nicely by now. I could even just throw you on there for them and save time.”

“Alright!” you snap. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not a good one anyway. I take it you’ll need to get supplies,” he asks. “I doubt you had anything with you back there.”

Your shoulders slump in resignation, and he chuckles seeing this.

“Yes, my home isn’t far from here. If there’s anything left of it mind you, they were tearing it apart when they dragged me away,” you tell him, absently touching the cut on your head with a wince.

He climbs back into the saddle and pulls you up in front of him, your dress pulling up and exposing your legs, burns and soot marking your skin, but you try not to dwell on it. It’s a short ride across the fields from the village, and you avoid starting a conversation as much as possible.

Your home is little more than a wooden shack, and as you approach you can see that it has been ransacked. Your meager possessions have been dragged outside and smashed, broken pottery and burnt books left outside, and your medicinal garden torn and ripped to shreds.

“What happened here?” Kyle asks as you let yourself down from the saddle.

“They destroyed it because of the priest’s command, ignorant pigs,” you pick your way through the devastation. Tears prickle your eyes as you see your entire life strew over the ground in pieces. “Bastards,” you say softly, balling your hands at your sides in impotent rage.

“Hey, it’s okay. You made it out alive and that’s the most important thing,” Kyle murmurs reassuringly, placing a hand on your shoulder, a heavy weight that somehow helps ground you.

“I need to see what I can salvage inside, what kind of sickness is it you need help with?”

“Not sickness, we were attacked by bandits and some of our men are wounded,” he explains, following you inside the remains of the shack. Every item of furniture has been smashed, it looks like someone brought a hammer just for the purposes of destroying anything you’d ever touched.

“There’s not much left but I will do what I can,” you gripe as you pick through the debris. You breathe a sigh of relief when you find a large, untouched earthenware jar filled with burn salve and begin to shove things into a shoulder bag.

Once you retrieve what you can you say goodbye to your wrecked home and everything you knew, riding through the fields with Kyle at your back. Soon the rolling fields turn to woodland, and you follow the road for several miles until he veers off on a narrow trail leading into the woods. Panic spikes in your chest as you think about what could be in your near future, and how you might escape if the worst should happen. The feel of his arms around you holding the reins is both unwelcome and pleasant at the same time, an odd mix of emotion that swirls with your fear.

A small clearing opens before you, a single canvas awning erected at the edge but the ground is churned up as though several horses and carts have recently passed through. Kyle drops from the saddle in a fluid motion, and leads the horse with you still on it, towards it the small shelter. A small fire burns on the ground just outside the canopy, and several heavy packs lay on the ground. You try not to worry about the swords and shields resting on top of those packs.

You gasp as you see what looks like a bear sitting beside the fire, but when the head turns you realise it’s a huge man in a bearskin cloak. He stands as you approach, and you swallow thickly as you see he is even bigger than Kyle. His bearded face takes on a sardonic look as you approach, bright eyes looking you over as Kyle gets you down from the horse.

“You were meant to get us a healer, not more kindling,” the hulking, bearded man says.

“Yeah, the idiots were trying to burn her at the stake for witchcraft,” Kyle replies with clear disdain. He nudges your shoulder, urging you towards the the man,

“She can’t be a witch, not a good one, if she got that close to burning,” he observes. “I guess you’ll have to do then.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, fearing he might just snap your neck with his huge hands if he felt like it.

“Nah, she’s no witch but she is good enough a healer to spook the local peasants. So that’s something,” Kyle agrees and takes his horse to picket it with three others beside the small camp.

The two carry on talking, all but ignoring your presence now as dusk begins to settle. You shiver slightly and take the decision to sit by the fire, your clothes now full of singed holes and offering little warmth.

“The other will be back soon, they’ve gone hunting but you know they won’t rush back,” the bearded man tells Kyle.

“Who is injured?” you ask, failing to see anyone with a wound so far. They look at you, as though surprised by you being here.

“The rest of my men have moved on with the carts, we will rejoin them tomorrow and you can treat the wounded then,” the bearded man says, giving you a curious look. “Do you know who I am?”

You slowly shake your head, feeling as though a hole is opening up below you that you’re going to be pushed into. Instead, he chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound.

“Well, call me Price,” he says with a crooked smile, clearly not telling you everything.

Darkness falls around the small camp, and the woods around you become quiet as the day creatures return to their nests and burrows, while the night animals prepare to come out. Ordinarily you’d avoid being out in the night like this, lest a hungry wolf take a fancy to you for a meal, but you are sure that Price and Kyle are used to dealing with such things. The urge to pee becomes insistent, and you get up to move away for a modicum of privacy.

“Don’t wander off,” Price warns you as you move away from the fire. “You don’t know what’s out there.”

“I will just be a moment,” you assure him.

You move between the trees and find a secluded spot in front of a large trunk, gathering your skirts about you as you squat down and relieve yourself. Once you are done you stand and turn towards the camp, and scream. A terrifying, grim specter stands before you blotting out the light from the fire, dark eyes in a polished skull face that reflects the dim light with a sickening glow. A pair of twisted horns

A sharply clawed hand grasps your arm when you step back uncertainly, knees weak. You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting death or pain or both.

“Fuck! Simon!” You hear Price bark roughly, and you risk opening your eyes.

“What’s this? A stray?” The creature rumbles in a human voice, deep and harsh, but with no visible mouth to form the words. It moves closer, pinning you between the tree truck behind you and its body, lifting its claws to run down your cheek.

“She’s a healer, let her be,” Price answers with a hint of amusement in his tone, as though you aren’t about to be eaten alive.

The monster tilts its head suddenly and steps back a little, letting you go. You rush back into the comfort of the firelight, and sit beside Kyle who smiles irritatingly at you before dropping an arm over your shoulders. The monster softly steps into the camp, into the light of the fire, revealing a black enameled helm with a skull fixed to the face plate, the clawed hands are gauntlets in reality. It’s a man, a massive man in terrifying armour, but a man all the same.

You notice another huge shape moving in behind him, yet another man, wearing a leather jerkin and breeches but with a blue tartan cloth wrapped around his shoulder. A Highlander, if you remembered what you’d read in the past. A shock of hair runs down the middle of his head in a bushy band, with everything shaved low either side. The remnants of blue woad smeared on his cheeks. He carries a brace of rabbits in one hand.

“Fuck…” you grumble to yourself, and the men laugh at your expense.

“Good thing you’d already pissed or you’d have disgraced yourself,” the skull-helmed man chuckles and begins to remove his gauntlets.

“Not funny,” you bite back, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips despite your ire.

“You look like shite, what happened tae ya?” the Highlander asks while he guts the rabbits and skewers them over the crackling fire. Your stomach suddenly growls, you’ve not eaten anything all day and the stress has taken its toll, suddenly making you feel shaky.

“I was being burnt alive this morning,” you shrug, clutching your hands together as they begin to tremble. The burns on your skin throb and the aching in your head pulses, it’s suddenly difficult to focus your eyes and sweat blooms on your skin despite feeling so cold.

“Kyle,” a deep voice utters, seemingly from a long way away, “she’s gonna go…” You struggle to stay upright just as arms grasp you tightly and you slump against their hold while your vision fizzles out.

You can’t have been out long, when you come to, the smell of roasting rabbit floods your senses and your eyes snap open as your stomach growls again. You slowly sit up, head still pounding but not spinning as badly now.

The strings of your bodice are loose and you quickly wrap your arms across your chest as you feel it gape. That’s when you notice the salve smeared onto the burns on your arms, as you gawp at your arms you see your skirt is pushed up to your knees and salve spread onto the burns on your legs. A wave of nausea rolls with your hunger at the thought of someone touching you while you were unconscious.

“Who… who did this?” you splutter, turning to the men sitting around the fire. Whoever had tended your burns had laid you down at the back of the canopy.

“Never you mind, you’re safe with us,” Price snaps with authority, his back still turned to you. “Come and eat before you swoon again.”

“I didn’t swoon,” you bristle, fixing your clothes and tugging your laces extra tight. “I was nearly burnt to death, rescued and then threatened, and then scared shitless. So excuse me if I got overwhelmed!”

You sit down with little grace beside Kyle, deciding he is the least offensive option and snag a rabbit from the fire. You eat as though you are starving, ignoring the bemused eyes turned towards you.

“You better watch that tongue wench, or you’ll find it cut out soon enough,” the masked one warns you, low and ominous. You risk a look at him, his dark eyes fixed on you through a mask of black fabric that covers his entire face. Even without his helm he is still utterly terrifying. A tiny part of you wonders why he still wears it, if it’s because you are here.

“We’re leaving at first light to catch up with the rest, so get some sleep. MacTavish, you take first watch,” Price announces, and nods to the Highlander who acknowledges him.

“What if I run away?” You blurt out.

“If you want to risk running blindly through these woods in the dark, be my guest,” Price replies with a callous shrug but looks you in the eye. “You’re hardly the only healer around.”

“C’mon, just come and get some rest and it won’t seem so bad in the daylight,” Kyle says calmly, as though he wasn’t the one who had brought you here under a death threat. Truly you had fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire now.

He tugs you with him as he stands and moves you to the back of the canopy again, laying down and pulling you with him. The fight leaves you, and you crumple down to the blanket on the ground beside him. You don’t have the energy to complain when he pulls you against his chest and murmurs quietly to you about keeping you where he can keep an eye on you. You're too exhausted to feel him tug at your bodice laces gently, you just fall into exhausted sleep.

——————————————————————

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goosewriting · 1 year

Text

Running

summary: just when reader thinks to be on the last maker-forsaken corner of the galaxy, they meet Pyre again.

relationship: Commander Pyre x GN reader

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k

A/N: recently finished watching star wars resistance and uh,, yeah i’m simping for a golden tin can. what can i say.

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

The sky and ocean's blues engulf the Colossus as you go about your day on the station. It hasn’t been too long since you came here. You’re kind of on the run, but not really. It's more like you're looking for a fresh start. The First Order, The New Republic; they're all the same to you. The only thing you want is to be left alone. So you came here to work and save up some money to start anew.

Mainly you worked as a mechanic, but you’d also wait in Aunt Z’s tavern whenever you could and whenever she needed. You were friendly with everyone so any time someone had some credits to spare, you’d get decent tips.

Lately though there have been weird rumours going around, about the First Order coming onto the Colossus. You ignore them for the most part, as it seems highly unlikely; this is just a random platform out somewhere in the endless oceans of a planet in the Mid Rim. You fail to see any strategic value this place could bring to the First Order.

To your dismay, the next day you spot a command shuttle locking onto Doza’s tower. You feel the urge to run to your quarters and take a look into your safe hidden behind the desk, to see if you have enough credits to get out before they inevitably shut down the whole place, as you’re sure they’ll do. But before you can get out of the tavern, Aunt Z tells you that Doza asked for an order and you’re to bring it up to him and some "special guest".

You've been to the tower a couple of times before, when the Aces wanted to get something delivered to their lounge mainly. Other than that, you didn’t get to spend time in that part of the Colossus. It was actually rare for Doza to ask for drinks or food to the tower, but as you inspect the tray in your hands, you realise it holds the expensive stuff; the one that Aunt Z would stash away for special occasions, or for very esteemed guests, you suppose.

You get to the elevator and tell the guarding Stormtrooper what you’re here for. After taking a closer look at your tray, he lets you pass. Once the doors close and you feel the push upward, you can’t help the slight shake of your hands. Taking a deep breath you remind yourself that you’re not on the First Order’s radar, that no one here knows you, you’re good. Besides, I didn't do anything bad or commit a crime, so why am I this nervous?, you ask yourself.

Ah, but you know why. There is only one person in the First Order you’re familiar with, and the chances of him being here are incredibly slim, null really. And yet, that teeny tiny possibility is enough to have your heart racing, and you're not sure if it's excitement or dread.

When the elevator chimes as it arrives on the top floor, Doza’s office, you put on your best customer service smile, and start moving forward. The moment you take your first step though, the room starts spinning and everything comes to a halt all at the same time as your eyes fall on the ever shiny, unmistakable golden armour. The Commander turns around to look in your direction. If he recognises you, he doesn’t show it.

Taking a sharp breath, you quietly approach the desk, putting down two glasses and serving up the beverage. Captain Doza thanks you and you respond with a nod, trying really hard not to look at the Trooper sitting across from him. With a short bow in Doza’s direction you excuse yourself, quickly going back to the elevator. You're holding the tray so tightly in your hands you're scared it might bend.

Once you're out of the tower, you beeline for your room instead of the tavern. Pushing the desk with more force than necessary, you kneel down on the floor and are about to open your safe when you get comm'd by someone in the hangar asking for your help. With a sigh you respond you’ll be there shortly. Taking one last look at the safe, you shake your head and click your tongue in annoyance, pulling the desk back to where it was.

You make a quick stop by the tavern first to return the tray and inform Aunt Z you're needed for repairs, and she lets you go as business is quite slow right now.

With quick strides you make your way towards the hangar, mentally planning how much a transport out of here would cost, how far it could bring you, and what place you should choose next. Perhaps Rattatak, Takodana, or the Endor System? Your thoughts trail off to the Trooper you saw earlier. And you mentally reprimand yourself for the beat your heart skips when you think of him. You were so close to forgetting, to moving on. But no, he had to appear at the worst possible timing.

Coming to a sudden halt in the hallway, you look at your distorted reflection on the dirty and uneven metallic wall panel. You may not be running from the First Order as a whole, but you suspect you’re running from him.

Wherever he goes, chaos seems to follow. You had really wanted it to work out. But he’s too stubborn and arrogant for his own good. You tried showing him that the First Order is a lost cause, that history was repeating itself. You tried asking him to go away with you. But he chose his golden attire with a matching blaster over you.

What hurts the most though is knowing that under the mask, if you peel away all those betaplast layers, there is a man you could see yourself loving for a long time. You had given him your heart, your entire being, much too soon perhaps. And the truth is: you miss him.

Taking a deep breath, you avert your eyes from your reflection with a sensation akin to shame. The hangar isn’t far, and you should be there shortly. But just as you’re taking another step, you hear your name being called from behind you, and you freeze. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, no matter how modified it was through the helmet.

With a shaky breath you turn around to see Pyre with a Stormtrooper on each side.

“Leave us,” he commands, and the troopers obey, leaving you now alone with him in the deserted hallway.

“Well, if it isn’t the golden tin can,” you try to sound snarky but your voice lacks conviction.

He approaches you, and you instinctively take a step back. At that he stops in his tracks.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the tone still pretty harsh.

“That’s none of your business,” you retort with a scoff, narrowing your eyes at the black visor of his helmet.

“You can’t keep running,” Pyre says, resuming to walk towards you, but slower this time.

“I’m not,” you lie.

“So, after seeing me, you weren’t planning on leaving tonight on one of the transports?” he questions rhetorically. “To Takodana perhaps?”

You grimace at how well he knows you; he could always read you like a book. Meanwhile you don't know what he was thinking half of the time because of that damn helmet of his.

Realising how close he is coming, you take a couple more steps back, only to be met with a wall where the hallway turns a sharp curve. Seeing the chance, Pyre takes the last couple quick strides needed, coming to stand right in front of you in an instant, one arm on each side on the wall caging you in. You avert your eyes to the side, unable to look at him even through the darkly tinted visor, as you know that he knows he has you wrapped around his finger.

“What do you want from me?” you ask, your hands coming up to his chest plate, in a weak attempt to push him away. He doesn’t budge, nor does he answer.

“Pyre, please,” you plead in a quiet voice. “Whatever game you’re playing, I don’t want a part in it.”

“Why did you leave?” he suddenly asks, and you almost thought it was pain in his voice, but that would be highly unlikely.

“What do you mean why?” you retort with a dry chuckle. Your hands move on their own as they straighten up his shoulder pad, which was hanging a little low to the left. You blame it on muscle memory. “You made it plenty clear you didn’t want me by your side, and I don’t have to be told twice.”

“That’s not true,” Pyre says, and you raise a questioning brow at him.

“Which part? I took the hint–”

“I never said I don’t want you by my side,” he clarifies, and you’re not sure if you should be flustered or enraged.

“Uhm, yeah you did–” you try to freshen his memory but he interrupts you again.

“You essentially gave me an ultimatum,” he hisses, and you can hear him taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I am a Commander of the First Order, and that won’t change. But I still want you by my side.”

His hands slide along the wall and over your shoulders, until they gently hold onto your arms, as if to underline the point he’s trying to make. His touch alone, even through gloved hands and the thick fabric of your jumpsuit, sends sparks over your skin.

“Please, I- I cannot bear to be apart from you anymore," he whispers.

Your head starts spinning; one inner voice is telling you to run, while the other is telling you to take that damn bucket off his head and smash your lips against his. But you manage to keep some self-control. With a shuddering breath, your hands come up to hold the sides of his helmet. You can see your own reflection on it, but you look beyond, searching for the pair of eyes that hide behind it you know all too well, and yearning to see them again.

“Neither can I,” you admit, unlocking the helmet, which releases with a hiss, and you slowly start lifting it. You can already feel the stubble on his jaw with your fingers. Just a little more…

“Not here,” Pyre growls, one hand pushing the helmet back down to lock it into place again. You pout at him and he gives a low chuckle that sends tingles down your spine.

“Grab your things and I’ll meet you back at the ship,” Pyre offers, voicing it more like a suggestion than an order.

“Okay,” you say, pulling him closer by the shoulders so you can place a quick kiss on his helmet where his mouth would be. And with that, you go back the way you came.

You could still feel Pyre’s look on you as you walked down the hallway, heat prickling on your cheeks and neck. This man would be the death of you.

— — —

A/N 2: you're surprised i write for pyre? that makes two of us lol if you want more let me know!<3

#goose feathers #commander pyre x reader #star wars resistance x reader #sw resistance pyre x reader #pyre x reader #star wars x reader

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lady-lauren · 10 months

Text

Apotheosis

↬ Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader

↬ Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

↬ Word Count: 2.3k

↬ Warnings/Tags: breeding, talk of pregnancy, dacryphilia/tears, possessive actions, power dynamic/age gap, cum eating, excessive cum/creampie

↬ A/N: It’s been a while since I showed love to my favorite man 💕 Apotheosis: the highest point in the development of something; culmination or climax.

Tears are expected in Erwin’s world. Fat, emotional tears upon the loss of a comrade, tears of frustration at the end of a failed mission, cries of agony of a population ravaged by fear and unrest.

But he could drown in your tears, feast on them like waters from the heavens. You’re pretty when you cry, delicate and overwhelmed, all from him and him alone. His actions, his words, his pleasure and pain.

“Take it, darling, all of it.”

You’re barely undressed, tits spilling from the torn buttons of your uniform, leather straps of your gear pressing into the fat of your thighs as the fabric of your pants struggles at the spread of your legs.

“C-Commander, I, please, I—” nonsense, it’s all nonsense as he flattens you against his desk, cockhead spearing through the unprepared, yet dripping folds of your cunt.

It’s been weeks since he’s seen you. He has no patience left to spare.

Erwin breaches the first ring of muscle into your depths, hissing through his teeth as he feels your pussy suck around him.

He can’t even remember if he locked the door to his office before he pounced on you, his favorite little cadet.

“Good girl,” he coos, thumbs smoothing over your ass as he bullies his way inside of you. You choke below him, sucking in air at the intrusion.

It’s all too much, the burning spread of your cunt and the way he presses your aching breasts against the crumpled papers, fingertips mean and eager against your hips. But he adores when you get overwhelmed, gasping like you haven’t taken his cock countless times before.

“I’ve been thinking of you,” he grunts as he bottoms out inside of you, your ass slapping against his pelvic bone, belly quivering as his cockhead brushes against the most sensitive parts of you. “I’m going to cum inside of you, darling, fill you to the fucking brim with me.”

“Oh god,” you whine, wiggling against his hold as you come to terms with the full stretch of his length. His veins are throbbing inside of you, pulsing against your walls. He doesn’t give you the time you deserve to adjust, instead using your flesh like a toy and bouncing you back and forth on his cock.

“I–we–I-I can’t have…we shouldn’t…” you moan and writhe below him, asschecks bouncing with every sharp thrust.

The vision of you pledging your oath to the nation, to him, is crisp in his memory. Your fist over your chest, eyes gazing up at him from the second row of fresh cadets. He’d noticed your faith then, felt drawn to you like a moth racing toward a funeral pyre.

He’s let himself be consumed by your dark flames, let dreams of you belonging to him, only to him, fill waking thoughts.

“You don’t want my babies, darling? Is that it?”

The sound that drips from your throat is sinful, longing, like his words have speared through your heart and ripped tender emotions.

A heavy hand runs the length of your spine, stopping at the base of your neck to press you down harder, keeping you trapped below his strength.

“Y-yes, Erwin, I–fuck, but we can’t,” your tone lingers on your opposing declaration, brave but lost. You mean it, but you don’t.

Leaning forward, Erwin drops his lips to your ear, slowing his pace to a grind into your cunt.

“Your pussy is desperate for me, I can feel it—you want to milk my cock, want me to fill your insides with my cum.”

Your nails scrape at the wood in his desk, leaving lines in their wake. Your bodies are heady, sweat bleeding into cotton and leather straps catching against the press of his thighs to yours.

“Let me tell you what I think about, darling,” he whispers wickedly, hand slipping between the press of your stomach into the edge of his desk. He is brutal with the remainder of your shirt, ripping threads and snapping buttons as he claws his way to your skin.

“I think of you ripe with my child, my seed growing inside of this strong, perfect body. I imagine you glowing, flushed with hormones and proud at the mention that your child is mine. That I came in your body, took you, bred you.”

Perhaps he’s being purposely crass—he wants a reaction from you, wants to feel your emotions bubble over and spill at his feet.

“Oh fuck,” you squeak below him as he continues to press into you, his cock hot and angry, his weight heavy upon your back. “I want that, god fuck I want your babies, b-but it’s so…” your thoughts trail away as the mental image becomes too much to handle—you, pregnant and showing, growing the Commander’s child in your womb.

Erwin relents, pulling his aching cock from your cunt. He smooths his hands over your body, warm and affectionate, coddling you as he repositions to have you face him.

“It’s too much…” your voice is soft, eyes blinking away the treacherous emotions that have settled into your psyche.

“Look at me.”

He says your first name as he pets your cheek, the taste of the syllables like sin on his tongue.

“I want you,” he asserts, latching his lips to yours to prove his point, “more than you'll ever know, darling. You’re mine. You always have been.”

He plucked you away from the Military Police the moment he laid eyes on you; requested a direct transfer to have you working below him, for him. Then he got inside of you, felt every raw desire and built an unwavering trust. Every time he’s fucked you, he’s been discreet, kept you away from prying eyes. Now he wants all eyes on you, on him, on how he’s taken you.

Gently, he peels the tatters of your shirt from your breasts, placing hot, long licks along your nipples. You buck against him, brave hands tangling in his hair and pulling at the roots.

Taking his time with you almost feels foreign. Every fuck has been to satisfy the obession inside of him, a whirlwind of potent feelings and lust. Claiming you in the dark, a palm over your mouth, his fingers on your tongue and in your cunt.

Now he kneels before you, experienced hands unbuckling the worn scout leathers from your thighs, kissing at the grooves left behind in your tender skin.

You awaken the most primal of needs inside of him—to have, to claim, to breed.

The lines of his roman nose disappear between your legs, skimming along the folds of your pussy as he licks along your slit.

“Erwin, please…” Naked, you sigh with the utmost content, head tilting back as you fall prey to all the emotions swirling in your gut.

“Please what, darling? Use your words, tell me what you want.”

Gazing from between your thighs on his cheekbones, your slick on his tongue, his cock throbs against his pants as he watches the faintest of tears pool on the apples of your cheeks.

He loves ruining you, overloading you with so much passion that it becomes visible.

“Breed me. I want to feel you cum inside of me.”

“Are you sure you’re prepared for this?” He rises to loom over you, tugging your body against his, his clothes sticking to your soft, dewy skin. “I will fill you until you can take no more, fuck you as many times as it takes to breed you properly.”

Pupils dilated and dark, you nood, fisting your fingers around the leather strap that clings to his pectorals.

“Please…make me yours, all yours.”

Erwin slots between your plush thighs, golden hair falling against his brow as he shoves his cock back into your depths, groaning at the feel of you spreading for him.

His size is to his advantage as he consumes you, bucking hips and bouncing you along his shaft. The boldness inside of you is growing, he can feel it in the way you move against him—hungry, greedy, eager to take everything he can give.

A hand grips meanly into your thigh, while the other traces up your back, coming to rest on your jaw, keeping your gaze smoldering into his. He moves ruthlessly inside you, hips snapping against yours with every sharp, deep thrust. Little sounds leave your lips with every plunge, blissful tingles stemming from where your bodies were conjoined. He adores how he can feel the head of his fat cock dragging along your tight walls, thick veins throbbing under silken skin.

A coil of pleasure begins to tighten within his lower stomach, boiling in his balls, hot and mean, like it is ready to tear and erupt with a rush of ecstasy. You moan his name like a prayer, eyes closed tightly as you focus on the intensity of his cock thrusting inside you.

“Everyone will know,” he murmurs against your wet lips, stealing your breath, “your babies will look just like me.”

He knows how to play you, circling your clit so perfectly with his thumb that you’re already shaking. Your lower belly clenches, all the euphoria rushing to your head and making you feel drunk.

“God you get so fucking tight,” Erwin grunts at the feel, starting the kind of brutal pace that told you he was already aiming for the finish line, ready to fill you up and watch you drip just so he could do it all over again.

Everything is burning, like a warm, wet glow between your legs, filled to the brim with him. You gasp and moan, little sounds you just can’t help, too overwhelmed. He stretches you so wide that you feel breathless, tears leaking down from the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl, let it all out. I’ll take care of you, promise.”

“G-gonna cum, Erwin, fuck…”

“Me too.”

His hips still for a moment so you can both feel the way his cock pulses, forcing his seed deep into your womb. The heat breaks you along with his thumb on your clit, making you cry into his chest as you fall over the edge. Your pussy is a milking compression around him, squeezing every last drop of his cum. There’s too much to keep in, hot seed dribbles out over your pussy and around his cock to paint the inside of your thighs and make a mess against his desk.

But he doesn’t stop.

His cock is still hard and twitching inside of you, fat and heavy as he starts to push back deeper into you. Your head dips forward against his shoulder, one of his hands holding your neck while the other splays across your belly before moving lower. Two fingers slide along the folds of your cunt, spreading around his intrusive cock so he can feel his leaking cum.

“Feels so good,” you mumble, “your cum feels so fucking good.”

Erwin groans, lifting his messy fingers to your agape mouth. You take them in without question, sucking at the taste of cum and slick pooling against your tongue. He keeps your mouth stuffed with the digits, allowing you to scream around them as he picks up his pace.

He’s a man determined, sight sets on a goal. He promised to breed you, and he will. No matter how many batches of cum it takes for his seed to take hold.

The squish of his cum spurting with every thrust is mesmerizing, breathtaking, and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of his pretty little girl taking in his cum. You’re a mess, streaked with tears and cum, spit dripping down your chin as you choke around his cum stained fingers.

Erwin removes his fingers from between your lips, angling you back so he can watch your tits bounce with every plunge of his cock. Brushing wet knuckles over your breast, he tugs on your nipple until you mewl.

“C-Commander,” he’ll never tire of hearing his title in your mouth, “I want more.”

“More what, darling? Tell me.”

“More cum, god, fuck I want to drown in it.”

In the back of his mind, Erwin is distinctly aware of sounds outside of his office door, shuffling feet and whispers. But nothing could stop him, not even God Himself could bust into the room and remove Erwin from you. He has you where he’s always wanted you—panting, weeping, begging for him to breed you, to keep you.

He tugs you against him, using you like a little cocksleeve made to suck his cock dry.

“One more,” he groans, “give me one more, darling. Let me feel you cum for me.”

You nod like you have any choice, pulling your thighs up farther so you can lay flat against his desk and take his onslaught.

Long fingers circle back to your puffy clit, rolling the tender bud until you can no longer keep quiet. The feel of you is electric, spiraling, pussy spasming against him, slick gushing with every crest of pleasure that comes over your body. Your climax has you splitting apart, and also sucking him in so deeply that he can't help but to pour his load into you.

Erwin finally pulls his still throbbing cock from your cunt. You are ruined, the tightening of your belly in the aftershocks of your orgasm making cum continuously bubble out of your hole, drooling onto the edge of the desk and into his floor.

“You look so perfect covered in my cum.”

Erwin’s fingers are quickly back between your legs, making you whine as his fingertips glide over your swollen clit. He trails his fingers down your thighs, gathering what cum is still traveling down your legs. He pushes the lost cum back inside of you, making your back arch at the oversensitive feeling. Over and over again, he repeats the motion, taking his time to gather every viscous droplet and push it back into your quivering cunt.

“I expect you to meet me in my room tonight, understood?”

“Of course, sir.”

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