#[pitifully face down on the floor]

[katyawooga]

sevika x hyperfemme reader raegahhahhehaaaaaaa

ummmmmm Yes ..... teehee

apologies if this isn't nsfw... i'm still trying my best to get more comfortable with it :3 i hope u enjoy it nonetheless, anon :)

men and -16 dni please

you were a new hire at the drop, and weren't you just the cutest little thing? you had lost count of the amount sleazy guys who showed up to the bar (already drunk) and asked you the same cliché of, "what's a pretty thing like you doin' in a place like this?" and it had only been a couple weeks.

to be fair, you looked very different from the average person living in the undercity. you were put-together, dressed well, and oh so feminine. your hair was always perfectly styled and your makeup was applied with absolute precision. no one could find a single flaw when it concerned your appearance, and you wanted to keep it that way.

the only complaint you’d have, though, was the uniform the drop had you wearing. not only was it ugly, but it was so not your colour. deep greenish-grey? please, you looked your best in reds, whites, and pinks. and if it couldn’t get any worse, they had you wearing pants. not jeans, not tights, not even shorts — ugly straight-leg slacks. that simply wouldn’t do.

the night you swindled your way into wearing a miniskirt during your shift, sevika was in her corner playing people into the ground at poker. you always loved serving her; she gave you the sweetest compliments and actually seemed in the right mind to give them without objectifying you.

with a serving plate flat on your palm, you started strutting your way over to her table to deliver her drinks. you would’ve made it there unscathed if some cross-eyed oaf hadn’t bumped into you and knocked you to the ground. the drinks shattered and you scuffed your knee and your elbow on the raw cement floor. looking around you at the spilled mess of alcohol and broken glass on the ground, you whipped your head up and glared at him.

“watch where yer goin’, girly,” he spat his words at you, scoffing as he stomped his way to sevika’s poker table. she saw what happened first-hand and wouldn’t have it.

“you,” she barked at the man, quickly standing up from her seat and slamming her hand of cards on the table. she didn’t care about the game or if her hand was visible. she grabbed the guy by the crotch with her mechanical arm which was almost always covered by the red cape she wore over her body. the man pitifully squealed at the pain and his eyes went wide.

‘did’ya really tell this girl to watch where she was goin’?” she sneered at the man, and when he didn’t answer right away, her grip on his nethers tightened.

“y-yes! that bimbo p-probably doesn’t know h-her lefts from her r-rights…! ow!!!”

sevika wasn’t satisfied with the language being used to describe you. you had gotten yourself back up on your feet and you stood to the side a little timidly, holding the elbow that took the blow when you fell.

“if you don’t want a free facial reconstruction from yours truly,” she growled in his face, her eyes almost glowing magenta. “you’ll apologize to 'er.”

“w-wha— no!” his eyes went wide, obviously she was hurting his pride. “she ran into m—”

the poor guy couldn’t even finish his sentence before he was knocked out with a single punch and sent flying to the ground in a much more violent way than you had. after a small chuckle, sevika took a few steps toward you and gave you a sentimental look.

“y’alright, sweet thing?” she asked, looking you up and down and spotting your scraped knee and the bleeding elbow that you weren’t doing a very good job at hiding. “i’ll have someone take care’a the mess for you. would it be alright if i took care’a you tonight, though? what he did was no way anyone should treat a lady, especially not one as beautiful as you.”

her compliments and her request to possibly take you home caught you off guard. you stammered and adjusted your tiny skirt from the nerves before giving a shaky laugh.

“i, um… my shift doesn't end ‘til midnight, i don't wanna make you wait that long, …?”

“sevika.” she finished your sentence, her name stupidly having slipped your mind. the gloss that shone on your lips, even in the dim yet colourful lighting of the bar, distracted her. “an’ i have no problem stayin’ late if it means beating some morons into submission at poker and spending some time with a gorgeous girl like yourself.”

her deep, smooth voice was insanely easy on the ears. so easy, that you barely processed any of what she said to you. she brought you back to earth when a finger on her human hand twirled itself around a ringlet curl that had fallen into your face from the tumble. you chuckled and looked down, still not believing you were being hit on after getting pushed to the ground and eating shit like that in front of her.

“yeah, sure,” your cheeks burned red with your acceptance of her offer, but it was difficult to see from the powder blush you already had on your cheeks. god, with the way you present yourself, sevika could go dumb just thinking about the kinds of girly moans and whines she could work out of you.

“i’ll be waitin’ for you, baby doll.”

my requests are still open for this week! i have a week off from uni, so i'd love to get writing again :>

and if you'd like to be added to my taglist, just send an ask!

tags : @archangeldyke-all @gh0ulte4rs

[tojisth3rdwife]

BabyDaddyToji didnt react to your positive pregnancy test the way you expected him to. He was surprisingly chill about it despite all of the conversations the two of you had in the past about him not wanting anymore kids. Megumi was school-aged and wasnt nearly as bad as Toji made him out to be but you could understand his standpoint. Kids are a big deal. Theyre expensive. Theyre loud. They smell. They amplify your anxiety to the nth power. So yeah, you got it.

But for someone who didnt want any more kids, Toji wasnt that great at doing things to prevent them. He hated condoms and you understood birth control wasnt 100% effective, but there he was nutting you every night anyway.

So naturally when your period never came and your started to feel strange, your mind went straight to those conversations and how he would react if you were indeed pregnant.

He surprised you though. It was actually him who encouraged you to get a test because he’d noticed the change in you. And when you were sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring at the pee stick in shock with trembling hands, it was him kneeling in front of you with his huge hands resting on your knees.

“Tell me what it says.” he said calmly, his thumb skimming over your skin soothingly. Your jaw clenched and your eyes stung with the flow of tears threatening to coat them. Taking your silence as a response, Toji takes the pregnancy test from you and flips it to see for himself. When he sighs, a knot forms in your stomach and you brace yourself for the worst as his hard expression never changed.

“Toji..I..Im..” you begin, not even sure of what you wanted to say. Your voice shook with emotion, the sound making Toji’s cool green gaze jump from the test to your face. Before you could blubber anything else, the pregnancy test was set aside and Toji’s arms were pulling you from the toilet to join him on the floor. He stumbles back so that he’s seated with you cradled in his lap, rubbing your arm and cupping your cheek. You were crying by now, coherent words impossible as you sobbed into his chest.

“M’s-sorry..” you huffed and Toji furrowed his brow in confusion.

“For what? Im the one that did it..” he chuckled, though you didnt see what was so funny. You pull away just enough to brave a look at him, chin trembling pitifully.

“You…Youre not mad?” You blink, fat tears rolling down your face. Toji sighs at the sight of your sadness, feeling his heart was being squeezed and twisted just from looking at you. His expression remains stoic though, apart from the soft smirk on his lips.

“Nah..” he shakes his head. Your eyes flutter shut as Toji’s thumb rubbed over them to wipe the freshest tears away before continuing.

“Why would you think that, pretty girl? Hmm?”

This wasn’t part of your plan at all. Not that you were the traditional or conservative type but you at least wanted to be further along in your relationship with Toji before something like this happened. It had only been a few years of you being in a relationship, less than a year living together. Megumi was just now getting used to you being a consistent presence in his life and now here you go bringing a baby into the picture, someone else he’d have to tolerate and get used to.

And then there was Toji. He didn’t seem like the type to cut and run out on you over an unplanned pregnancy but would he resent you? Would he treat you differently now that things were about to get even more serious than they were?

Thinking of it all overwhelms you to the point of hysterics, and you hide your face in Toji’s neck to keep from facing the disappointment you just knew you’d find in his eyes.

If only you know how the only concern he had was comforting you.

“I just know this isnt what you wanted…I feel so stupid..” you find the strength to say between maintaining a steady breath, and Toji hugs you tighter. He kisses your forehead and exhales heavily, resting his cheek in your hair.

“It’s all good baby. None of that matters. Im here. Not goin anywhere, I promise.” He assures you, keeping you in his steady embrace until your breathing was no longer shuddered. You’d been quiet for a few minutes before Toji’s deep voice cut through the silence.

“Whew..hormones fucking you up already, huh? Damn…” Toji jokes half heartedly, earning him jab in the abs that he laughs off as he continued to hold and console you.

So boom. There you were. Pregnant af with Toji’s baby.

Much to your relief, Toji didnt change the way he treated you as the weeks passed. He was still sweet , in his own way, and very present. He went with you to the first appointment to confirm everything and make sure you were ok. He held your hand when your blood was drawn and watched the large monitor on the wall with interest when you were probed with the transvaginal ultrasound device.

“And there we are...” the OBGYN mutters distractedly as the probe stalled in a particular position inside of you, showing the small cavity of your womb and the little bitty bean nestled inside of it. Your eyes widen at the wiggly blip and it’s tiny heartbeat, your own starting to kick up in pace. Toji says nothing but he watches your reaction to seeing evidence of life growing inside of you. A life the two of you created.

Damn.

“What the hell...” you exhale, making Toji chuckle.

“Yep! Theres your baby. Id say youre about 9 weeks. Projecting your due date to be around...” the doctor pauses, typing something into the keyboard quickly.

“May 17th.” she finished.

She withdraws the scope and hands you a box of tissues to clean yourself, leaving for a minute to give you some privacy. Once alone with Toji in the small room, you looked to him with mixed emotions clear in your eyes. His expression is as stoic as it usually was but there was a warmth in his gaze that you found comforting.

He smirks.

“Looks like I knocked you up good, huh?” he jokes and you giggle.

“Yeah. It would appear so..”

You sigh as you sit up to get dressed and Toji sits back to watch you wiggle your booty back into your jeans. A magic trick if you asked him. You turn to him as you zipped your fly, uncertainty still clear on your face.

“What you thinking bout over there?” Toji asks, his eyes falling from your face to your trembling hands that worked over the button of your jeans. You exhaled a nervous laugh, shaking your head.

“Im honestly still in shock. Seeing the baby moving didnt bring me the feeling I expected it would..”

“What were you expecting to feel?” your man asks and you shrug solemnly.

“I dont know…Like I’m not making a huge mistake, I guess.” You chuckle humorlessly, blinking to resist that stupid urge to cry.

Toji’s head leans slightly, his eyes panning over you with concern. He sits up in his seat, offering you his hand.

“C’mere , mama..”

The irony of his usual pet name wasn’t lost on you but you were too emotional to be amused by it.

You walk towards him to stand between his legs and his hands come around to rub the backs of your thighs over the denim. He looks up at you with a softness that immediately disarms you, causing the tension in your body to melt away on contact.

“You cant worry about all of that shit right now. This is all gonna feel weird and new and scary but bright side is, you wont be going through any of it alone. Lucky for you, Ive kinda been through this before. Well..not being pregnant but..you get what Im saying..”

“I get it..” You smile at Toji stammering and lift a hand to cup his cheek, sliding it back to tug on his ear affectionately. Toji leans into the touch, grunting softly in reaction.

“Good. I also have some dad experience under my belt. Megumi survived a whole 3 and half years before you came into the picture and you see how he is. So you’re not just dead in the water here, babe. Ive got you.”

The image of Toji struggling with Megumi as an infant on his own comes to mind. You didnt know him then, only having his stories of that time to paint the picture for you. You couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Toji to cope with the fact that person he thought he’d be spending his life and raising his son with was gone, leaving him to take it on alone. The sleepless nights and tearful days, with very little support since she was all he had.

You never told him, but there was a soft spot in your heart for Toji’s deceased wife, since she was the one who taught him how to love in the first place. And it was her love that lived on in him and Megumi that was allowing you to step in. What a privilege that was, that you didn’t realize until this very moment.

Of course he wasnt going to tell you that he was terrified. Terrified of history repeating itself. Terrified of him not being able to save you. Terrified of fucking up royally and leaving another gaping hole in his chest that he wouldn’t allow anyone else in to fill. He’d never show you his fear when he saw the amount of it you were already battling.

With a soft smile and another squeeze, this time on your ass, Toji pulls you into a hug you wouldn’t dare refuse. His head rests against your chest and he inhales the scent of your perfume.

Youre pulled out of your moment when a few knocks at the door have you both turning to look just as the doctor is peaking her head in.

“You two ready to come back in the exam room for a consult to go over everything?”

You look to Toji and he gives you a wink and a soft pat on the butt before he’s standing.

“Yeah Doc. We’re ready.” he responds before you can, giving you a tiny smile of reassurance as he encouraged you to walk ahead of him.

Part 2

[chaotic-iguana]

hiiii!! i love your stories sm thank you for taking your time to write them<3 can you do one of a miguelxreader where he has been playing video games allllll dayy and the reader just wants a little attention so they "tempt him" if you know what i mean🤭 and he ends up getting just a littlee hissy about it. it can continue on however you like ;)

anywaysssss love you and i wish you all the best<3

-🪷

distracted. 

gamer! miguel x f! reader

a/n: anon. first of all, thank you and second of all im sending u a sloppy forehead kiss bc this is such a delicious fucking idea i was literally feral to write this. 

warnings: mdni. subspace, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, cockwarming, degradation, (but they’re in love and it’s discussed, i promise), aftercare. 

“mig-gy,“ you whine tearfully, a culmination of the frustration you’ve been feeling all day. it started when you woke up with a warm, sticky feeling in between your legs; a dull ache settling in your gut and tugging at the edges of your thoughts ever since. miguel’d already been out of bed, and you’d found him in the living room in front of the tv, sitting in his pyjamas with a controller in his hand, barking orders into a headset. 

and while you didn’t want to disturb him on one of the very few days he had to himself, you couldn’t help but feel…antsy. you’d been trying (and failing) to get his attention all day, barely met with hms and grunts as it were. which was how you found yourself changing into a pink lace slip, unable to meet your own eye at the reflection before you. your poor, overworked brain made you think it would be a good idea to try and - ahem- tempt him, but when it came to actually doing it, the thought made your face warm. another slew of miguel’s curses at the game made you jolt, and before you knew it, you were walking outside to make sure he was okay. 

and he was, because of course. you, on the other hand, were standing half-naked in the living room at three pm while your boyfriend neglected to even look your way. you stood to the side, wringing your hands and waiting for him to look at you, but after a whole minute with you getting no attention whatsoever, you gave up and cleared your throat. miguel’s eyes flicked your way - victory! - for a bare second until he rolled them and turned back to the screen. which was also how you ended up here, whining from over his shoulder for him to acknowledge you. 

he doesn’t, of course, not until you’re stood next to him pouting while looking down at him with dazed doe eyes, giving you away. miguel knew exactly what you needed and within seconds a harsh order to pause was being whispered into his headset, fingers flying over the comedically-small-for-him controller as his chair finally turned your way. swallowing pitifully, you squirm under the weight of his gaze before risking a glance up at him to find his eyes twinkling with amusement, brow raised in question. 

“need you, migs.” your whispered confession only raises his brow impossibly higher, ghost of a smirk curving his lips before he’s turning away from you again. you’re frowning, half-stomping to stand between him and his screen before he wears his stupid headset again. desire winning against the shame brewing in you, you reach a hand out to his chest- 

and his wrist circles yours, stopping you in your tracks. you’re staring shamelessly at the slant of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the light caught in his hair, gauging his reaction until his voice rings out: 

“prove it.” 

and you’re confused, too lost in the reliving the feeling of the way his nose bumped against your swollen clit as he ate you out for hours last week, responding with a meek “hm?” that has him huffing. he doesn’t even clarify, just clamps a hand on your shoulder and pushes so you’re on your knees, settling you with your head at crotch-level. 

“prove that you need me.” 

and then he’s gone, eyes glued to the screen again. you blink up at him from the floor, content to watch the muscles of his forearms flex as his fingers move on the controller, the vein jumping in his neck as his jaw clenches, the tension in his wide shoulders. startling, you realise that his his eyes are back on yours and twinkling with a challenge. right. proving it. 

shuffling between his legs, you lay your head on his thigh and peer up at him. he’s looking away now, of course. you’d be happy to drool at the sight of him semi-hard through his fitted light gray sweatpants (am i projecting? i am projecting) for hours, especially when the fabric stretches just right to give you a barely-visible outline you can’t help but trace with your fingertips. which is exactly what you do without realising until his breath hitches ever so slightly, a muscle jumping in his thigh. fueled by the vindication, you start tracing patterns on him through his trousers, palming him ever so slightly until he’s bucking his hips into your hand oh-so-slightly. you’re too enchanted by the way he twitches against your fingers to realise how teasing your touch has been until you hear a half-whimper escape his lips, sending a jolt directly between your legs. pressing your thighs together in a futile effort to relieve yourself, you trail your fingers to his waistband and tug it down, reveling in the sharp intake of breath sounding from above you. 

the sight of his tip flushed red makes your mouth water and your tongue darts to catch the precum beading at his slit before you can stop yourself; the sudden warmth making him jump under you. rocking back on your heels, you fumble to pump him with both hands - he’s just so fucking big you can barely touch the tip of your thumb and forefinger with your palm around him - before ducking down to lap lightly at his balls, slick with sweat. kitten licking the underside of his cock while pumping him slowly, you hear him loose a breath slowly before you feel the weight of his hand on your head. faster than you can blink, his fingers curl into your scalp and tug your head back, gaze thunderous when his eyes find yours. his fingers tap your cheek in silent command and your lips part on instinct, and then he’s pushing your head down between your legs, jaw aching at the sudden intrusion. ignoring your choked garbling, miguel rocks his hips into your mouth until your nose is buried in his happy trail and holds you there, tears spilling over your cheeks while you struggle to adjust. the second you struggle against his grip instinctually, his tsk tsk fills the room, mic clicking off before he strokes your hair, so at odds with the fact that he was holding you down with his cock in your mouth. 

“thought you needed me, honey? where’d my good girl go?” and oh fuck, it’s the tone he’s using as if he’s amused by the sight of you all ruined for him that has something cramping between your legs, breath wet and clicking in your throat as you whine around him, your fists trembling where they rested on his thighs. ‘m right here, i’m your good girl and i need you so, so badly so please please please- 

but it’s like he heard your internal monologue, because his gaze softens in moments, thumb sweeping across your damp cheek. 

“lo sé, lo sé. mi buena niña. tómalo por mí, amor.” [i know, i know. my good girl. take it for me, my love.] and all your queasiness dissolves the second his fingers scrape over your jaw, your discomfort dissipating at the sound of his gentle murmur. 

then he’s going back to his game, leaving you kneeling at his feet and gagging around him. every choke, cough or splutter is met with a quick glance at you; at your fingers curled on either side of your head to make sure you’re okay, not tapping out. you know if your eyes had even a hint of hesitancy in them he’d stop; his supposed mean demeanor melting to give way to the cuddly teddy bear he really is. but you’ve reverted entirely to a floaty, dazed headspace, where your thoughts feel blissfully hazy and just out of reach, and you can’t comprehend the thought of not being here, keeping him warm. 

you don’t realise how much time has passed until miguel shifts forward, and the pins-and-needles in your legs make you whimper, gripping his thighs for support. miguel immediately cups your jaw, reaching his other hand to rip off his headphones and turn the game off entirely before pulling you off of him, wiping the drool off your lips and supporting your head as you splutter, his patience infinite when it came to taking care of you. 

“háblame, princesa. ¿cómo te sientes, hm?” [talk to me, princess. how are you feeling, hm?] 

still on your knees, you shift forward with tearful eyes; breath hitching at the bruises you can feel have formed already. you're barely stammering through "h-hurts, miggy" in a hoarse whisper before he's leaning down, wrapping an arm under your thigh and around your head, lifting you into his lap  instantly. you tuck your face into his neck, reveling in the safety of his embrace as you catch your breath. he presses his lips to your forehead, stroking your head over and over while cooing praises to you. it takes a while, but before long you're pulling back, kissing his chin with a soft grin. 

"there she is. there's my good girl. so perfect for me, aren’t you?" your shy nod makes him smile, fangs poking through in that endearing way that makes your heart hurt and the warmth blooming in your belly burn. 

“can i have u now, migs?” 

and oh, you sound so wrecked for him, how could he ever say no? 

and if his team lost the game, well. that’s on them, isn’t it? 

masterlist.

hello my loves, as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @party-hearses (hey gruv), @chiogarza, @jenispunk. message me to join my taglist. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Part two of this

“MAMAAAAAAAA!!” Your baby wailed as he runs to you, tiny feet pattering against the floor. Your head immediately snaps to your child, barely having time to snatch him into your arms as he jumps at you.

“What’s wrong, sweetpea?” You ask, checking him over for wounds. There was the telltale signs of teeth marks on his chubby little hands, the surrounding area a tiny bit pink. His cheeks wobbled with unshed tears as he sniffled into your neck.

“Did daddy get you again, baby?” You murmur to him, rocking your toddler. He lets out a pathetic sniffle as he plays with your hair.

“Mhm,” he whimpers pitifully. You roll your eyes slightly, knowing just how rough your husband can be. You know he doesn’t mean it, he just adores his baby and gets too riled up when playing.

“Shall mama tell daddy off?” You ask him quietly, holding his hand as you rubbed the soft skin. Your toddler thought for a minute before nodding his head. Katsuki’s blonde locks peeked round the corner, his muscular body following. His eyes widen and you can see the fear in his face when he figures out he’s been ratted on.

“You little snitch! You wanted to play hero’s and villains,” Katsuki grumbled as your son glares at him.

“Dada, it hurt!” He argues back. You have to try not to laugh as your two Bakugou’s bicker. Honestly, if you pitched your husbands voice down and blindfolded yourself, you wouldn’t be able to tell who was who.

“Mama, no laugh! Tell daddy off!” He pouts, cradling his ‘injured hand’. You wipe away your laughter and smile and try to glare at your husband. Katsuki was fighting for his life with his son, trying to excuse himself before stilling at your “glare”.

“Katsuki, what you did was wrong. He’s only little, you need to be more careful! Look at his hand,” you scold lightly. Katsuki didn’t even see the bite marks when he was playing with him.

“Shit, didn’t know I left a mark. You okay squirt? I’m sorry kid, daddy didn’t mean to nip you so hard,” his face slightly melts with guilt. His son’s hand was tiny in his own, as he lifted it to his lips and gave him a little kiss to make him feel better.

“Be caweful daddy, that weally hurt,” he sniffled. You nudge your son.

“Do you want to give daddy a hug? Show you’ve made up?” You murmur into his teeny ear. Your son nods as the tears begin again. Katsuki pulls his son close, kissing the side of his head as he sways with him for a bit.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Daddy’ll be a lot more careful in the future,” he promised his son quietly. Your son sniffs and nods, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck. Katsuki kisses his son’s head as he settles down. Katsuki extends his arm to you, pulling you in for a family cuddle as your son repositions yourself.

“Have you learned your lesson sweetie?” You teasingly nudge your husband. Katsuki rolls his eyes, pulling you closer and kissing your cheek.

“Yeah yeah, no bitin’ the kid. Guess that means I have to bite you instead!” He lets out a grunt as he nips your cheek, eliciting a surprised squeal from you. You try to escape, cursing Katsuki’s inhuman grip on your waist. Laughter spills from you all, Katsuki adding some biting noises to wind you up.

Katsuki alternates between nipping and kissing you gently, your cheeks and neck getting slowly more covered in slobber as your son chortles away. Katsuki lets you breath as he slowly turns to his son. He catches on immediately, squeaking as his father starts to pretend to eat him.

He was super careful of his teeth this time, alternating between blowing raspberries and attacking him with his nose whilst making eating noises.

“Dada stop!” Your son cackles, squirming from his father’s devilish laughter.

“HAHAHA, NEVER!!” Katsuki declares, pulling you closer to alternate between you two. As the sound of your combined precious laughter filtered through his ears,

Katsuki couldn’t help his own laughter.

[tweedcola]

I'm very new to posting here but please enjoy 4.1k words of soft Bucky smut!

Do It Properly

You’re not sure what wakes you in the end. Whether it’s a creaky floorboard, a rustling of your sheets or merely the change in the air that another person brings. Whatever the reason, you open bleary eyes and squint into the darkness, reaching for your phone to check the time. You only notice another presence in your bedroom when he clears this throat and steps forward to the end of your bed.

You let out a tiny ‘eep’ of surprise before your mind registers who the shadowy shape belongs to, but you recover quickly enough to ask, “Bucky?”

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes; centenarian, former Winter Soldier and current cat-dad stands looking defeated by your feet.

“Hey,” he responds hoarsely, and you scramble for the switch on your lamp, desperate to see him properly.

The light starts low, gradually brightening the room as it warms up, bringing Bucky into visibility. He looks… well. You’ve seen him worse, definitely. He has this issue (you think it’s an issue, he doesn’t see the problem) in which he throws his whole body into fights with reckless abandon, his own well being taking a backseat when you’re not on missions to remind him that he should look after himself. That he needs to look after himself so he can come back home to you.

His right hand is bandaged which means it must have been pretty bad – they generally don’t bother wrapping up the super soldiers as most of their injuries have faded by the following morning, but it’s his face that really makes you gasp.

“Buck!” you whisper, horrified, as he shuffles forward, bashful under your gaze. “What happened?”

He shrugs off his jacket and you’re hit with the scent of gunpowder and smoke as he chucks it unceremoniously on the floor by the desk chair where Alpine is curled up. Al activates with an inquisitive puurp? arching his back in an elongated stretch to greet his daddy. Bucky turns to scritch the feline’s ears, rolling his shoulders at the same time. You take that to mean, don’t ask but you can’t ignore the angry red welts around his neck, the dark purple blooming under both eyes and Bucky’s wince when he huffs a laugh at Alpine when he kicks his back legs against his fingers as he tickles his tummy.

“Bucky…” you try again, shucking back the covers and reaching for his shoulder. You kneel on the bed and run your hand down his back soothingly, pretending that you’re not looking for further injuries. “You get your nose broken honey?”

Bucky ducks his head and looks at you through his eyelashes pitifully.

“Sam set it back already. Took the shield to the face,” he admits slowly, enjoying your touch as you ease the muscles in his shoulder and at the base of his neck with your fingers, searching out the pressure points that make him groan.

“Why, what’d you say?” you tease, gently.

Bucky huffs again, then cringes as it causes him pain, slumping close to lean on you.

“Wasn’t my fault,” he mumbles into your neck, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. His left hand comes up to play with the strap of your tank top and you shiver against the cool metal. “Steve doesn’t enunciate. He only warned me to duck after he threw the damned thing. Jerk didn’t stop laughing the whole way home.”

You press your lips together and stroke the back of his head, making sure he stays buried in your neck so he can’t see how you’re struggling to hide your amusement.

“And this? You get on Sam’s bad side too?” you stroke his neck lightly, brushing against the vicious bruising that decorates the delicate skin there. Bucky stiffens almost imperceptibly, and you realise that he can’t talk about it. Not yet anyway. You know he’ll come to you when he’s ready.

You heave a sigh and push at his shoulder until he straightens, tilting his chin up to look you in the eye. “You just let me know if I need to go kick bird-boy’s ass, yeah?” you grin, peppering kisses over his eyebrow, betting that it’s a pain-free area before pulling him close again.

“Thanks baby,” Bucky answers on a heavy sigh. You continue threading your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, knowing the comfort of your touch is what he needs right now, rather than a dissection of his latest mission. You need the contact too, the physical reminder that he’s safe in your arms for the time being, though you make a mental note to ask the Captain why it looks like someone tried to garrotte your boyfriend. Honestly, what good is Steve if he’s not watching Bucky’s six when you’re not there?

You remain kneeling on the bed, letting Bucky use you as a crutch for as long as you can bare the weight of the 240-pound super soldier but eventually you have to push at his shoulder to get him to draw back. He harrumphs disappointedly but you know he’s not serious when his eyes drop from your face to skim along the length of your body, his right eyebrow raising appreciatively at the thin camisole and itty-bitty lace panties you’re wearing to counter the heat.

“Damn babydoll…” he begins, his hands hooking around the backs of your thighs to tug you along the bedspread, slightly closer to the edge. “You look good enough to eat.” He gives you a wolfish smile that has you admittedly a little weak in the knees and goes to duck towards your tits but you push at his forehead with a scoff.

“Uh-uh Barnes, don’t even think about it. You need a shower.” With your hands on his hips, he allows you to keep him at arm’s length while you slide from the bed and steer him towards your bathroom, his expression shifting from predatory to a dopey pleased grin as he allows you to take care of him.

“You gonna join me, sugar?” he asks, leaning against the sink as you turn the knobs and crank up the heat to a frankly dangerous degree because Bucky really doesn’t like the cold. You turn to catch him stifling a yawn into his fist, still fully dressed and you gesture at him impatiently.

“I don’t know, you gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself Sergeant?” You start unbuckling and tugging at his clothing, fighting with the supple leather that moulds to his arms as Bucky endeavours to stay awake. It’s a testament to how tired he actually is when you drop to your knees to wrestle his trousers down his legs and he doesn’t make a lewd joke, though you do see his half-hard length give a valiant twitch in his boxers before you tug those down too.

You help him into the shower, thankful that you don’t see any other bruising on his body but knowing that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt before you go to gather his clothes up into your arms. You don’t get that far though, as the glass door slides back open behind you and you’re tugged into the near-scalding water still in your sleep clothes.

“Buck!” you squawk, pressing yourself away from the water ineffectually as the spray soaks the front of your vest anyway. He crowds you up against the tiles that are already slick with condensation, effectively ensuring that no part of you has stayed dry.

“Mmm, you said you’d join me…” he mutters into your shoulder, nuzzling against your damp skin as his hands play with the lace covering your backside.

“And you said you’d keep your hands to yourself,” you huff playfully, reaching for the bar of Imperial Leather soap because old habits die hard and for Bucky the saying is doubly true. You lather the soap between your fingers and start moving it along his shoulders and back where you’re able to reach.

“No…” he drawls, slipping his fingers beneath your panties to stroke over the skin of your hips and ass as he presses his now very interested cock against your lower stomach and rocks you against him. “I didn’t answer and you interpreted my silence as agreement,” he murmurs. “I was very careful about that.”

You draw back and are faced with his incredibly pleased smile, almost impish in his glee that he’s managed to wrangle you into the shower with him for him to do as he pleases. You don’t have the heart to shatter his illusion with the truth, that you’d follow him anywhere under any conditions.

He tickles the soft skin between your thigh and hip and you squeal. You love seeing this side of Bucky, almost child-like in his mischief, even if the activity that you’re doing is very adult.

“Hmm, very clever…” you muse, drawing the soap down his right arm before sliding it up the other, ridding his skin and left arm of two days of sweat and gunpowder before starting to work on his chest. Bucky lets you work for a few quiet moments, watching your movements with half lidded eyes. You glance up at him and snort at the expression on his face; he’s hard for you but obviously can’t decide if he’s more sleepy or horny.

“Relax Buck,” you implore, working soap over his hips and kneading the bone there before making your way down his lower back, eliciting a sinful moan when you hit a knot and the muscle releases.

Bucky mumbles something into the skin of your neck between sweet kisses and you use one hand to tilt his head to the side when you ask him to repeat himself.

“Magic hands,” he slurs, rocking himself in time with your ministrations. “Magic, angel hands. Y’so good to me darlin’.” He pulls back and busies himself with playing with the strap of your tank top. “Wanna be good to you too.” Bucky’s hands drift southward to the waistband of your underwear, dipping his fingers in and teasingly raking his nails over the sensitive skin of your pelvis.

You shudder and feel his cock jump in response. Abandoning your task, you let the soap slide from your grip, ignoring the dull clunk as it hits the porcelain of the tub and instead wrapping your hand around his length and giving him one firm stroke from root to tip.

Bucky grunts, his hips jerking forward towards you. His hand slips fully between your thighs and you let out a sigh when his clever fingers part your folds to trace over your clit gently. Your natural slick mixes with the hot water still beating down on you both creating a heavenly slide that Bucky uses to his advantage, his movements becoming slightly rougher as you pant in his ear.

“That’s it baby, that feel good?” his voice is gruff as your desire heightens and he dips his forefinger into your core up to the first knuckle just to feel you clench around him when he strokes over the top of your clit just right. “Mmm, certainly seems like it feels good.”

You just have the wherewithal to register the slightly mocking tone in your boyfriend’s voice and retaliate with another firm tug on his member, the soap suds lingering on your palm making the glide smooth and slick, cutting off the rest of his sentence when it devolves into a whine.

You continue to jerk him slowly, reveling in the stuttering mess that you’re able to reduce him to with such a simple touch.

“Mmm, so sensitive honey,” you coo into his ear, increasing your pace incrementally. Bucky is completely at your mercy, his hand slackening in your panties and the coil in his stomach tightening with your movements. He rocks upwards on a gasp before straightening and grabbing desperately at your wrist.

“Stop – stop,” he pants, squeezing the base of his dick to stave off the orgasm that had crept up unexpectedly. “Fuck, almost made me blow my load in your hand baby, shit.” Your giggle sets him off with a growl and Bucky hoists you up into his arms, shredding your underwear with a wolfish grin.

“Bastard,” you say playfully, nipping at his bottom lip as he steadies you on a convenient shelf that you’ve only needed to replace three times since Bucky moved in with you.

“You gotta learn doll, none of your underwear is safe around me.”

As if to prove his point Bucky grabs a fistful of your top at chest level and you can see the gears turn in his head as he gets ready to yank and separate the body from the straps –

“Wait!” you call, throwing out an arm to catch his. “Just gimme a minute, damn,” you mutter, peeling the offending piece of clothing from your body and letting it drop to the floor with a wet thwack. “Running out of pyjamas thank you very much, some hopped-up super soldier keeps shredding all my clothes.”

There’s no remorse on Bucky’s face as he eyes your tits hungrily and you wonder when you lost your soft, sleepy boyfriend to this sex-starved menace. Deciding to tease him just a little more, you cup your chest, stroking lightly over your nipples and watch as his pupils dilate fully.

Bucky feels barely restrained, watching as you enjoy the delicate grace of your own touch and damn near drooling, desperate to get his mouth on your tits. He’s captivated by your movements.

“You okay there, Sarge?” you question, punctuating your words with a soft gasp as you apply more pressure to the sensitive peaks of your breasts. You arch your back a touch, your chest lifting just an inch or two closer and Bucky is salivating.

“More,” he requests, the whimper in his voice dampening the order. He recognises the tone for what it is – a plea – and he’d give almost anything to have his hands on you but – god – the way you’re writhing and panting before him, the slick folds of your cunt on display when you let your thighs fall open – Bucky can’t help but think you’re a goddess. He watches you for a minute longer, his body so tense that even the slightest touch might shatter him but what’s a goddess for if not to be worshipped? And Bucky will supplicate at your feet for eternity for you to rid him of his wrongs and cleanse the days before you. He’s been the luckiest son of a bitch for over a year now and he knows he’ll find heaven within you, that you lay peace and forgiveness down before him with simple caresses and erase his guilt with your lips.

You gift him a coy smile and let your hands drop, twining your fingers with Bucky’s and drawing him close until he’s stood between the ‘v’ of your legs, sharing your breath and feeling the heat rolling off your skin.

You tilt your head up and slant your lips against his, dragging his hands up your body to replace where yours had been on the mounds of your chest, encouraging him to squeeze and play as he wishes as you hook your calves over his hips and urge him closer still.

You chance a quick glance up at his face to find that he’s completely enraptured with your chest, snorting a laugh even as he feathers his thumbs over your nipples, raising goosebumps up your arms.

A shudder runs through Bucky’s body when he feels the tip of his cock brush against the heat between your legs and he tilts his hips forward to glide his length along you, delighting in your gasp when he grinds down against your clit.

“You want this?” Bucky asks, his expression split between cocky and desperate as he rocks against you, spreading his hands over your lower back and digging his fingertips into the meat of your ass.

“Mmm,” you whine, your head lolling back to rest against the shower tile, waiting for him to start pushing forward, for that first divine stretch that feels like nothing else –

But it’s not forthcoming. You crack your eyes open and lift your head questioningly.

“Please baby,” Bucky whines, pressing his hips into yours again. You reach up to stroke his cheek and just stop yourself from frowning.

“You need me to say it, Buck?” you ask softly, still running the tips of your fingers along his stubbled jaw, enjoying the scruff that pulls at your fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah –“ each breathless plea is punctuated by an eager grind against you and you bite your lip against a moan when you feel his cock throb from where it’s trapped between your bodies.

“Okay honey,” your voice is shaky with desire for your man but you fight to keep your tone clear so he knows exactly how much you want him. “Please fuck me Bucky – I want it so bad, needed it the whole time you were gone – ah!”

You’re barely through your sentence when he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt before stopping just as quickly as he’d begun.

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

“Mmm,” you whine in response. “Need you to move honey.”

He raises his head and shoots you a look. It’s one that you don’t get very often but you cherish the pinched eyebrows and lip trapped between his teeth as he fights to stop himself from coming prematurely.

“Needja to be patient baby,” he gasps out, his hands clutching at your thighs bruisingly as his Brooklyn accent slips into place. You can almost see his thought process as he runs through baseball statistics and multiplication tables in his head. You’re sweating by the time the tension finally drains from Bucky’s shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from clenching down on him when he gives a couple of gentle test-thrusts.

“You’re not helping,” he grunts, as he gets a better grip on your slippery skin to hoist your legs higher, and you’re honestly not sure if he’s speaking to you or your pussy.

You don’t have time to dwell on it though, as Bucky lets you know he’s ready with a sharp snap of his hips and a grunt from deep in his chest when you dig your nails into his shoulders in surprise.

“Careful with the claws, kitten,” Bucky groans before really laying into you.

You cling to one another as his hips snap into yours orchestrating a rhythm of skin hitting skin that is only amplified by the water. The bathroom echoes with your lovemaking, even as you bite at your lip – it’s still the middle of the night and you share walls with two other apartments in this block, not to mention your poor downstairs neighbours.

It only takes a few moments for Bucky’s rough strokes to build your pleasure high enough for you to stumble and a sharp moan of his name escapes you.

“Oh god honey,” Bucky pants, uncurling his left arm from around your waist to reach out and grab the top of the shower door for stability. “That good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you pant, “S’good Buck, it’s good.” Your words escape you in a staccato, hiccoughing rhythm that he punches out of you in time with the movement of his hips. You tip your head back and Bucky takes the opportunity to litter a series of sweet kisses against your neck, whispering words of devotion in between the brushes of his lips, drinking in the ecstatic sounds that you’re making.

“Fuck sweet girl, you’re so good, s’good, don’t wanna leave, never gonna leave ya again, love you so much baby,” Bucky’s inner monologue escapes without direction as your pleasure climbs, his words encouraging your end almost as much as his movement.

“Please – please Bucky,” you stutter out, dropping your hand between the two of you to stroke at your clit, your desperation for an orgasm acute after being without him for too long.

“Me, honey, let me,” Bucky insists, leaning his upper body away from you slightly to find the best angle. His practiced fingers find you easily and you feel yourself clench involuntarily around him when his thumb massages you in just the right pattern. The moan that you let out is quiet but so desperately needy that Bucky hisses when his cock throbs in response but by that time it’s too late for you anyway.

You dive off of the precipice, arching your back and feeling your pussy pulse uncontrollably as you’re ignited from the inside. Bucky pushes in to the hilt one final time before he too lets go, whimpering quietly as he joins your bliss.

You remain entwined beneath the water for a few long moments, relishing in the feel of one another before Bucky tilts his head back to look at you, his eyes still hazy with lingering pleasure. You know he’s not able to get drunk but if you saw him like this at any other time you’d assume he was intoxicated. You snort internally and go to make fun of his pussy-drunk expression when –

“Marry me.”

You slap your hand against the shower wall, groping desperately for the button that will halt the stream of water beating against the glass because you think that you just heard your super soldier boyfriend propose to you while he’s still very much inside you.

“What, Bucky-what?!” you finally locate the off switch and shower ceases, leaving the pitter-pattering of water droplets as the only sound in the room while you and Bucky stare at one another. “Did you just – ”

“No.” His response is short and sharp, cutting over the end of your question, as though he can’t bear to hear the words leave your lips. When you blink at him, he has the gall to look guilty and his shoulders drop in defeat. “I said – I – ” he takes a moment to clear his throat twice before speaking again.

“I said marry me. I’m sorry.”

Silence reigns again while you absorb the shock of his words.

“Bucky…” you begin slowly, wriggling back slightly to bring attention to his cock still buried to the hilt and his hips still fit snuggly between your thighs. “…are you proposing to me while you’re still balls deep?”

Bucky groans and lets his head drop to your shoulder as your laughter rings out but you wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze him as close to you as you possibly can, hooking your ankles one over the other at the small of his back so he can’t escape you.

“I – I had a plan, and a ring –” he starts to explain into your neck but you silence him with a tug to his hair so that you can meet his eyes. The concern etched on his face disappears almost as soon as he sees your joyful expression and he gifts you the softest, sweetest smile in return before taking a deep breath in and you just know what’s going to come next.

So you reach up quickly and place the tops of your fingers over his mouth.

This man – this man who has been through so much more than anyone should have to, who has survived horror and death and the loss of his autonomy only to come through the other side still able to love – deserves to have exactly what he wants. He deserves to have this moment, his proposal, exactly as picture perfect as he’s always imagined. And so although you know you’ll say yes, that you’ll marry him in a heartbeat, you halt Bucky’s next words.

“Wait,” you instruct gently. “Just wait. Do your plan – give me the ring.” You don’t explain further but brush your lips against his once, twice and whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you sweetheart.” Bucky responds just as quietly, and you feel the full force of his devotion and adoration hit you when he rests his forehead against yours briefly.

The moment is ruined when he steps away from you to turn the shower back on to wash away the evidence of your lovemaking with a mumbled; “It’s a good thing you didn’t say yes, Sam woulda never let me live it down if I’d proposed like that.”

You shuffle under the warm spray and wrap your arms around Bucky’s waist to gaze innocently up at him. “Oh – I’ll definitely be telling Sam about this,” you state. “My pussy game is so good that I got a marriage proposal? Bucky, I’m telling everyone.”

Your squeal echoes off the tiles as Bucky growls and digs his fingers into your waist in retaliation, grinning wickedly, and barely able to stop himself from sprinting to his underwear drawer to recover the ring nestled at the back.

He’ll do it properly tomorrow.

[wintertraumaposting]

"Is this what you like, you disgusting heretic slut?" The Priestess forces your mouth to the base of her cock. Restrained as you are, there is little you can do, save accept her divinity with your throat. "You are lucky the Sister Superior prefers a soft touch, else I'd have you lashed in the town square." You swear her cock grew thicker in your throat as she said that.

Once she begins to thrust again, she recites verses from the holy book over and over. With each one, her voice becomes more ragged, and her breath heavier. The look on her face is one of disgust, yet you can see the building pleasure beneath.

With only a short series of feminine grunts and extremely aggressive thrusts to warn you, her cock explodes into your mouth, filling it with holy seed. "You don't deserve such a reward, so don't you fucking dare spill a drop, heretic." Your mouth being full gives you little option, except gulping down the wonderful blessing you have been given.

Pulling her divine dick free from your mouth, she aggressively cleans your spit off with your face. "The next time I get my hands on you, cum rag, I'll make you suffer until you truly repent, filth." She shoves your restrained form to the floor, leaving you pitifully helpless on the cold marble. You can only tell she's left by her fading footsteps. Thoughts of what she's going to do to you next time creep into your addled mind, forcing a smile across your well-used mouth.

[holybibly]

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 | 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut, Priests!AU

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 9,9k

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: It is said: "The best way to get forgiveness for sins is to repent." Priest Wooyoung will tell you how to do this.

𝔚𝔄ℜ𝔑ℑ𝔑𝔊: Priest!Wooyoung, Hierophilia, church sex, religion kink, dirty talk, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play. spanking, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, dom/sub and more.

𝔄/𝔑: And so it is that I have come to please you with something wicked. I don't know why I get so inspired, but I don't care. My opinion is that Priest Wooyoung is hot as hell, that's all. There will probably be another work released this weekend, but I won't tell you what it is. Of course, the unholy hours are available as usual. It's time to repent for the sins, bunnies, and, as the saying goes, Hell's empty, all demons outside.

You have never thought of yourself as a religious person, not under any circumstances whatsoever. You never knelt down in front of your bed, covered your eyes with trembling eyelids, and whispered softly, "Hail Mary,"  before you went to sleep in your cold and lonely bed. 

Never asking God's mercy and forgiveness, you were as far from faith and piety as you could be. The last time you had been to church was years ago, when you came to communion with one of your distant relatives.   The feeling was all too familiar, yet as alien as the shattered fragments of a mysterious dream you remembered having long ago. You walked slowly up the rain-slicked stone steps of your hometown's old church, as smooth and dreary as the weather today. The thin branches of the dead trees, devoid of the usual green foliage you knew wrapped around them at the beginning of each spring, reached up to the sky as if in prayer—brittle and outstretched—like the hands of a sinner. 

"What am I doing here?" You asked yourself as you wrapped yourself more tightly in your soft cashmere coat and let out a convulsive sigh.

You didn't know how to answer that, and you couldn't seem to find the right one. That place... it seemed to call your name, and you couldn't resist the mysterious magnetism. The church was old and gloomy—the kind of church that people do not tell you the most pleasant stories about. Your eyes wandered over the faded, dark boards and the pointed spire, topped by a crooked, spiky cross that looked almost sinister as the rain swirled around it. The place had an air of desolation about it, and for a moment, you wondered if it was haunted. 

It was the same church that your mother had gone to when she was a child, always dressed in her most beautiful clothes and with ribbons of silk woven into her hair. 

"Did this place always look as spooky as it does now?" you asked her once. 

The cold wind whipped through your long hair as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church and made your way in. The rusty metal hinges sobbed pitifully at the sound of your action. The inside of the church was musty and smelled of incense, and visually, it was the same as millions of other churches: furnished with rows of wooden pews, with dusty Bibles lying in compartments attached to the backs of the pews. Narrow Gothic windows, decorated with the faces of sexless angels, stretched up to a vaulted ceiling.

There was no one there, which was what you would have expected, considering that there were only a few cars in the car park when you arrived here. You felt stupid for being here, completely unaware of what the purpose of your visit was in the first place.

The echo of your footsteps on the dark, faded midnight-blue velour floor was the only sound in the church. As you walked towards the back of the church, where the neatly decorated altar stood, your fingertips glided weightlessly along the cool edges of the old pews. Dark and full of suffering, the heavy crucifix hung over the altar like an unbearable sacred burden. There was a small confessional not too far from it.

One day, when you were a little girl, your grandparents took you to the church and insisted that you have a confession of your sins. Sitting behind the curtain, you felt so grown up; the small room seemed so much larger in comparison to your petite body. With your head bowed, you solemnly told the priest that you sometimes took a few extra biscuits when your mother wasn't looking, and he, in turn, instructed you to recite the Hail Mary a few times.

As you approached the confessional, you lazily tugged at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the faded fabric, which was worn in places. You wondered what sins you could repent of now; you didn't often reflect on what you'd done or seek forgiveness, at least not from an all-powerful divine being you weren't even sure existed. You opened the curtain and jumped at the sharp sound of metal rings as they scratched against the beam on which it was hung. The inside of the cabin was dark, and there was a smell of dust in it. You coughed and breathed in the small particles that stuck to your tongue in an unpleasant way.

"Hello, my dear."

You jumped at the slight echo of the soft, melodic voice that came from behind the metal bars of the confessional. Leaning against the door, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your fast heart pound. Squinting, you hoped to get a better look at the dark figure of the priest on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." You said it quietly. "I... I was just lookin' around."

"You're new, right?" The voice was beautiful; with every vowel the person formed, you could hear some kind of melody, low and languid, almost seductive, and you suddenly realised that your hands were covered with goose bumps. Was the temperature in the little cabin any cooler than it was in the rest of the church? You couldn't be sure, but you found yourself unconsciously pulling the tails of your coat closer to your body.

Intrigued by the man on the other side of the small grate, you took a step further into the small room and looked around.

"Something like that."

"You don't come to places like this very often?" The voice made more of a statement than a question.

"No." You agreed with it. "I can't remember when I've been to church lately." You whispered in reply, so quietly that you could hardly be heard.

Silence fell between you, and, not quite understanding what you'd done, you reached out and pulled the curtain, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal bars, you saw a slender man's figure and carefully sat down on the velvet bench.

"So why did you come here today, then?" The priest asked, although there was something in his tone of voice that told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all this small talk a normal part of confession?

"I... I'm not really sure, just an instinct." You crumpled the soft fabric of your cloak between your fingers, growing more nervous with every second of the small talk between you and the mysterious priest.

"I understand, of course." He replied with a note of familiarity, as if he heard the same thing every day of his life.

Feeling even more insecure than before, you raised an eyebrow and shifted into the uncomfortable seat beneath you. There was something special about this priest, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"Is something bothering you, dear?"

You bit your lower lip as you tried to process what he said. Was something gnawing at you? Was there something that was bothering you to such an extent that you were beginning to feel pangs of conscience? Deep down inside of you, in the depths of your mind, where you didn't dare to go?

"Maybe?" You finally managed to say it, but it sounded more like a question. Your whole body was on edge, and you couldn't understand why it was so. You weren't afraid, no, but there was definitely a sense of something out of the ordinary. Something that was forbidden.

"You've been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven't you?" The man asked you a question, and all of a sudden you found yourself with your eyes half closed in bliss as you enjoyed the silky texture of his voice. It sounded like an angel was singing, but with a dark undertone. "You have been asking yourself questions, perhaps even too alarming ones."

You nodded weakly in acknowledgement of his words; despite the barrier between you, he seemed to be aware of your silent response.

"You're afraid you're bad." He said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing at the last two words, there was a hint of mockery in the tone of his voice.

Hearing him say that made your mouth dry up and you coughed slightly, trying to clear your throat.

"Holy Father, what makes you say things like that?"

"Are not all of us afraid of something like this at some point in our lives? We are afraid of ourselves, afraid of our sinfulness."

There was a blink of confusion on your face, a complete bewilderment at the strange turn this conversation had taken. And yet, somehow, you felt compelled to go on and hear more.

His voice dropped to a hoarse, velvety whisper that sent waves of heat down the length of your spine and caused you to squirm in your seat. Was this how you were supposed to feel at this moment?

"Let me tell you a little secret, dearie."

"I-am I listening?" Your heartbeat quickened as a single streak of pale light fell on the man behind the small bars, and for a moment you saw a dark, fox-like eye.

"We are all bad men. Every single one of us."

A shiver ran down your entire body, and you could feel the stuffy air in the confessional getting hotter and hotter.

"Even you, dearest child." He moved closer to the mesh holes in the barrier that separated the two of you, and you could make out the shape of his lips, diabolically curved and full. "Especially you."

"F-Father…"

"Wooyoung." He fixed you. "My name is Wooyoung. "

You repeated his name softly, sliding your tongue over each letter; your voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the man inhale sharply as his name came out of your lips. His name was sinful and sweet, almost wicked, like a serpent that tempts you to do the most evil of deeds. This man cannot be a priest at all. But if he was not a priest, who was he then?"

"You are," he began, and you could almost feel the smirk on his beautiful lips as he spoke. "Very naughty girl.

Oh, my God. This wasn't really happening. Was it? No, he couldn't have meant it. He was a priest, for God's sake.

"And what is your suggestion that I should do about it?" You asked shyly, looking down at the palms of your hands, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your nails had dug themselves into the damp skin. You couldn't see Wooyoung, but you were sure that the look in his eyes would be nothing less than piercing and malicious. "Should I say the Hail Mary several times? Pray for atonement for what I have done? You haven't even told me why it is you think I'm a sinner."

He let out a dark, dry chuckle, and you heard a muffled sound as you guessed that the palms of his hands were making hard contact with his thighs.

"Shall I show you?"

"Show me what?" Your eyes narrowed and a strange sense of anticipation began to well up inside you.

"How do I have the knowledge that you are a sinner?"

You chewed on your lower lip in thought, and then you cleared your throat with a kind of self-assured finality.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"What if I have no desire for repentance?" You said it in a defiant tone. You wanted to be brave; you wanted to be strong and confident, but something deep down inside of you told you that Wooyoung was not the kind of person that you couldn't help but obey. His whole aura told you that if he wanted to, he would fold you up like an origami piece. But there was nothing you could do about it; you had to test the waters to see what would happen if you refused to bend to his will.

He looked at you so intently that you felt he wanted to eat you alive right then and there.

"But I have a feeling that's not the case, is it?" He said this as he ran the tips of his fingers along your jaw. You tensed as he touched you, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Wooyoung lazily ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I think you want to get on your knees before me, child. You wish to repent."

Your eyes widened at the sound of his words, and a smirk of arrogance spread across his perfect scarlet lips. Why haven't you fought back?

He leaned forward so that his gorgeous face was only inches away from yours. You squeezed your thighs together as warm wetness began to pool between them, realising he was even more beautiful up close, like sin itself.

"I could smell the sweetness of your cunt from the moment you walked into the church, you little slut." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, and you shivered at the feel of his hot breath on the skin of your body.

The vulgarity of his words made you gasp, but you couldn't deny how your mouth watered at the sound of his velvety voice saying the words 'cunt' and'slut'. God, he was doing something to you, but you were... You were attracted to it.

"I smelled that smell when you walked into the confessional, when you heard my voice, when you said my name." His eyes sparkled in a devilish way, trapping you in his gaze, and if you hadn't been so excited, you would have noticed the black shadows dancing along the edges of his irises.

He was speaking to you in an almost patronising manner now, and you froze in place as he pulled your lower lip down and gently ran his thumb along the inside of it until the pad of his finger was slick with your saliva.

"Wooyoung..." You exhaled, looking down at your hands, fidgeting aimlessly in your lap. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and by the way Wooyoung looked at you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness was only turning him on even more.

"There's never been a girl in my life that has been so desperate for a fuck as you have. Your desires ... they are almost tangible." He was so close to you now that his hot lips touched the round of your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your body as he spoke. "I have met many sinners in my life, as you can imagine."

"Are you going to punish me for that?" He raised an eyebrow before straightening up and looking down at you, seemingly completely satisfied with your answer. A majestic expression of all-encompassing power was frozen on his face as he spoke.

"No, darling, of course not. I wouldn't want to punish you, but I am going to make you repent. And the first sin you will have to do penance for will be lust." Wooyoung said, and you found yourself biting your lower lip at the commanding tone of his voice. "Stand up." He gave you the order.

You did as he asked you to, got up from your seat, and stood in front of the so-called priest. He moved around you in a circle, as if considering what to do with you, never allowing you to escape his dark gaze. His tongue stretched out to lick his plump lips in a sensual way; finally, he sat down on the spot where you had been a few seconds before and ran his hands over his muscular, thick thighs.

You were standing in front of him, completely at his mercy, your head bowed in respect as he looked at you like a predator from his seated position, your skin burning under the weight of his gaze. You could almost feel his eyes as they crawled over your body, peeling away layer after layer until they reached the very core of your soul.

"Get undressed." There was a metallic edge to Wooyoung's voice as he crossed his legs and leaned back, his long hair falling over his handsome face, making him even more vicious. "Now."

You opened your mouth to speak, words of protest hovering on the tip of your tongue, but you closed it immediately, realising that it was better not to protest. The feeling of submission came again, sharp and clear, and you quickly pulled off your cloak and threw it to the ground behind you. The soft fabric pooled on top of the midnight blue velour. Then your jumper and your jeans joined it, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and pulled them down to your hips.

As you shyly wrapped your arms around yourself, you suddenly realised that your nipples were hard and swollen and could be seen peeking out from under the thin white lace of your bra.

Wooyoung leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his sharp chin resting on his palms, before he glared at you.

"You have to undress completely, darling."

You nodded obediently, reached behind your back to unhook your bra, and with timid reluctance, pulled the lace straps off your shoulders. You lowered your eyes in shame and looked down at the floor, while Wooyoung kept his gaze fixed on you.

"In atoning for our sins." He began to speak softly, reaching out to your face and gently guiding your chin so that you looked up at him. "We do not have the luxury of being modest." Wooyoung patted your cheek in a condescending manner before he hooked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, which were nothing more than a thin piece of white lace. He let out a sweet moan as he slowly pulled them off of you, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin and the wet folds of your pussy.

You blushed as you watched him rub the lace between his fingers, and a thoughtful look came over his handsome face as he said.

"They're wet, darling." He finally said it in a sarcastic tone, his lips curling into a disgusted grin. "You really are a whore, aren't you? You walk around in wet panties and have depraved thoughts, and no less so than about a person who wears holy garments." Despite the roughness and harshness of his words, you could still see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He tucked your panties into his trouser pocket.

"It's really pathetic, isn't it?" His tongue flicked over his plump lower lip until it was glistening with saliva, and a quick glance down at his crotch showed that he was hard. "You are so lucky that I am here to help you rid yourself of all the sins that you have committed, my child."

The humiliating nature of the situation was turning you on far more than you were prepared to admit. Your clit was throbbing with pain, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, and your thoughts were constantly wandering off in a thick, lustful haze.

"Show me how you touch yourself at night when you are alone with all those sordid thoughts. I want to see you give yourself over to sin." Wooyoung ordered you as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest in a casual manner. It was impossible to ignore his erection in this position, and your mouth fell open a little when you noticed just how massive the bulge was.

"Y-yes, sir." You whispered. Your mind was spinning with lust as you parted your legs slightly for easier access, your hand hesitantly touching the warm, soft flesh of your inner thighs, shuddering as you discovered the abundance of your juices running down it.

"Keep going, darling. Don't be shy." In response to his words, your fingers touched your neglected, throbbing clit, spreading a sticky, warm wetness and massaging it in slow, firm circles. You whimpered softly, partly from pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation that was blooming in your throat, to which Wooyoung only gave a wicked grin.

"Come on, we both know that you can do it better than that." He reproached you. "I'd like to see you fuck yourself, darling."

You swallowed hard and hesitantly let your fingers slide between the wet folds of your pussy. Your behaviour was beginning to irritate Wooyoung, and all the playfulness was gone in an instant, and a venomous bitterness appeared in his voice. With the silver of his rings digging uncomfortably into your skin, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His gaze was as intent and as dark as the night, and you shivered at the sight.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said, fuck yourself."

It was such a rude and vulgar thing to say, especially coming from someone who was a priest, and it took your breath away. In obedience to his command, you immediately slid two fingers through the soft, wet folds and into your cunt. You let out a long moan as you felt your silky walls stretch around your fingers, and, trying to get more of the feeling, you began to move them back and forth. Trying desperately to keep your balance in this awkward position, your knees were getting weaker by the second, and you could feel yourself starting to orgasm.

"You don't expect me to believe that your slutty little cunt can only hold two fingers, do you?" Wooyoung mocked him, biting down on his plump lower lip with her perfect set of teeth. 

Gritting your teeth against the invasion, you sighed heavily and added another finger. The soft walls of your vagina squeezed your fingers like a velvet vice with every move you made. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the shame that was quickly engulfing you like the flames of hell. The wet, squelching sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar.

"Harder, show me all of it." Wooyoung's sharp command came out, and you did your best to obey, curling your fingers and rubbing them roughly against the small, spongy bundle of nerves inside you. You were breathing heavily, your forehead and neck glistening with sweat, and your lips red and swollen when Wooyoung finally told you to stop. It was cruel, the way he waited patiently and calculatedly until you were about to come, only to deny you, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain; it was your punishment after all.

Your fingers picked up the glistening wetness that flowed from your cunt, and as you looked at Wooyoung, you brought it to your mouth and wrapped your lips around your fingers, licking it and sucking every last drop of it.

He rose sharply from where he sat, shading you and towering over you like the very embodiment of God—or the Devil? Wooyoung wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on your hairline, with a look of genuine affection on his handsome face. This tenderness did not last for long, however, and after a few seconds, he was back in his unrelenting position of authority.

"On your knees, dear." You did so without hesitation, your knees immediately touching the faded and discoloured velour.

"Look at you, stripped of all your dignity, on your knees, writhing in despair, like a bitch in heat. Aren't you a sight to see?"

You blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fawn's wide-eyed innocence, squeezing your legs together as another wave of excitement surged from your needy cunt. Wooyoung taunted you; there was no way he would show you mercy—you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you coldly, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You have no pride, my dear, but you must still do penance for that, to be sure you will have forgiveness for that too." He lifted one foot and placed it on the seat of the bench, presenting you with a polished, expensive-looking shoe. "Clean it for me. With your mouth, my dear."

You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung but didn't argue, for fear that he would punish you more severely and in more subtle ways if you didn't comply. His boot looked clean enough; not a single scuff could be seen on the shiny leather, and as you moved closer to the bench, you ran the tip of your tongue along the leather in an experimental way. It didn't taste like much, which was a relief to your anxiety, and soon you were flattening your tongue and licking the hard material as if your life depended on it.

"Good girl." He cooed, but there was very little in the way of kindness in that reassurance. As if you were nothing more than a pet, his hand stroked your hair. You were relieved when Wooyoung pulled away and removed his foot from the bench, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt you were putting in your mouth.

"Look at me, my darling."

Your eyes fell on the large bulge at the front of his dark, neatly pressed trousers, and you moved away from the bench so that you were now level with his crotch. A beam of red light shone through the stained glass behind him, reflecting off the black stone of his ring as Wooyoung ran his fingers over his belt. As he slowly unbuckled the belt, the church was silent, except for the faint jingle of the metal buckle. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the image of the Virgin Mary that stood in the corner of the church. Was there judgement in her eyes? Was there a sense of disgust? Her face was as divinely serene as ever, and you couldn't tell.

Too handsome to be a saint, he bowed his head towards you, long strands of black hair falling down to frame his face. Wooyoung unzipped his trousers, taking a moment for a lewd touch of his bulge before pulling out his hard cock. The head of his cock was wet and turgid; a thick drop of pre-cum rolled down its length, and you wanted to follow its movement with your tongue.

"What do you crave, huh?" He asked, hissing as his hand slid up and down the length of his thick cock.

"Do you crave something that can't be satisfied?" His words flowed in a rhythmic flow, and his tone was so soft that you could almost swear that he was singing to you. It was the voice of an angel that was calling out to you. "Do you take all that they give you, only to find that you're still starving to death?" You bobbed your head up and down, desperate and needy, and parted your lips as he rubbed the head over your lips, staining them with pre-cum, making them slick and shiny. You were giddy, stunned by the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you had so willingly allowed to pollute you in this house of God.

"You're a greedy little animal, aren't you?" Wooyoung taunted you with a throaty grunt as he slapped his cock against your cheek. You kept your hands on your hips, waiting obediently for further instructions. You grew more and more restless by the second, not having his dick in your mouth or in your hand.

God, you were one hungry little thing, you really were.

From where you were on your knees, he looked ethereal, his full lips moulded into a perfect, sensual shape. It was fascinating to watch such a man let himself fall apart like that, his chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his forehead as he moved his hand over his thick cock.

He let out a low, guttural moan as he picked up the pace and came closer and closer to the edge, throwing his head back towards the vaulted ceiling. You were so turned on that you were sure your juices were already dripping onto the carpet beneath you, forming a small puddle, a dirty declaration of your desire. The unpleasant throbbing of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Wooyoung's approach to orgasm, his breathing choked and ragged.

He looked down at you and licked his luscious, almost sinful, lips.

"Open your mouth, dear." As if you knew he wanted it, you parted your jaw and lowered your head to his cock. Wooyoung jerked his cock a few more times before he released a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic roar of pleasure escaping from his lips like music. "Don't even have a thought about swallowing."

You felt the thick stream of his cum begin to flow down your tongue and into the depths of your throat, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. Wooyoung pulled his trousers back on, buckled his belt around his waist, and sat back down on the bench with a cold indifference. There was not a single trace left of the erotic image that you had seen just a minute ago.

He patted his muscular, thick thighs and looked at you defiantly, and you obediently walked over to him and sat down on his lap.

His warm thigh pressed against your cunt without pity as soon as you sat down, and you pressed against him desperately in pursuit of the pleasure he hadn't allowed you to have yet. At the same time, Wooyoung slapped your bare bottom with the palm of his hand.

"You have been impertinent to me, which means you have an anger that makes you want to sin. And that is one of my favourite sins, my dear. Wooyoung said as he put his hands on your hips to stop you from squirming on his leg. "To see all the terrible things people can do just because of a little anger is both fascinating and funny."

He lifted you slightly and placed you on his lap. You obeyed him without saying a word. He manipulated you like a doll, positioning you so that you were completely on top of him, your long hair falling in your face and your head tilted forward. You clenched your jaw as hard as you could, terrified of what would happen if you let a single drop of his sperm come out of your mouth. You winced and whimpered as he wedged his knee between your legs again, his hand brushing the tender junction of your ass and thigh.

"I can feel the rage burning deep inside you, my child." Wooyoung held your hands behind your back as he restrained you, tears welling in your eyes. He used his other hand to press down on your lower back and used his knee to press down on your wet cunt. You let out a scream, the piercing sound muffled by your closed lips. The texture of his cum seemed to get thicker the longer it remained on your tongue, and you had to clench your jaw tighter, praying that nothing would accidentally drip out. You couldn't afford to be disgusted by how bitter and cold it had become, coating your mouth with every slight movement you made.

"Isn't that so? Answer me, dear." He growled as he began to massage your ass so hard that you could feel his nails digging into your soft skin.

All you could manage was a pitiful "mmmm.".

"Angry, naughty girl." He said, his voice full of fake sympathy as he ran his fingertips along your thighs in preparation for what was to come. "We can't let this pass unnoticed, can we? You need to repent."

Without warning, he slapped your ass so hard you almost forgot the cum in your mouth. Your body jerked forward before he caught you and brought you back. He didn't give you any time to recover from the blow, as he landed a second one on the opposite side of your ass. Your eyes welled up with tears and concentration as you struggled to keep your mouth shut. Tears started streaming from your eyes down your flushed, hot cheeks as he hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times. Wooyoung continued his merciless assault, each blow harder than the last, until he landed a particularly hard blow that you were sure would leave a bloody handprint on your skin. The force of the blow was almost enough to bring you to a scream, and for a moment, your lips parted. A small stream of cum ran from the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin.

You hoped that he hadn't noticed, but you realised that you were out of luck when he let go of your wrists and took a firm grip of your hair instead. As he leaned down to speak roughly into your ear, he dug his nails into the battered, red skin of your ass as he pulled your head back.

"I will have no choice but to extend your punishment if you make a mess, my dear." When he warned you, Wooyoung's voice was deep and quietly ominous, like the ocean on the brink of a storm. He waited for a nod of understanding from you before he let go of your hair and returned to his previous position, running the palm of his hand lovingly over the swollen expanse of your ass.

You closed your eyes and took deep, slow breaths as Wooyoung spanked you over and over again without stopping. You would probably have enjoyed the spanking if it hadn't been for the added responsibility of holding a tonne of cum in your mouthYou s you squirm under his touch. His knee was still pressed relentlessly against your cunt, and his trousers were no doubt slippery from your excitement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time you jerked in response to another loud slap against your skin. The sound was almost deafening, echoing off the walls of the old church in a dull echo.

Your punishment turned Wooyoung on once more, his hard cock pressed against the side of your body.

"It's turning you on, you little bitch." The tone of his voice would have been venomous, but it still remained angelic in some way. "I shouldn't be surprised about that. It doesn't matter what kind of touch you have, is it? You're such a needy slut that even the most innocent of touches makes your cunt wet." He ran his fingers through the tangled hair at the back of your head and let out a mocking chuckle. "You can swallow now, darling."

You swallow the cold, sticky cum, gasping in relief as it slides down your throat, immediately following his request. You could still taste it on the inside of your mouth, a faint hint of savoury sweetness tickling your taste buds. After he had spent a few seconds stroking your battered bottom in gentle, soothing movements, he grabbed hold of your sides and lifted you up until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his lap. For the second time that night, he unbuckled his belt, sliding his trousers and boxer shorts halfway down his hips and freeing his thick cock.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Wooyoung's big, thick cock, but you knew better than to give in to your dark desires. All you could think about was how much you wanted to feel it—to run your hand along its veiny member, to curl your lips around its warm, velvety length, to jump on it and take it so deep into your cunt until you were sure you could feel it deep inside your belly. Wooyoung was absolutely right: you didn't care how he touched you at all. You were longing to feel his touch in any way that was possible.

"Pampered little sluts like you are always too used to being given everything they want without having to lift a finger to get it." He said this as he used his thumb to massage the wet head of his cock. He lifted you up and guided you to straddle him, his hands gripping the soft curves of your hips. Your breath caught; you were so close to your desire that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

"Is that what you wanted, darling?" Wooyoung hummed sweetly as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pressed your hand down onto his cock. Instinctively, you grabbed hold of it, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you ran your fingers along the prominent veins that adorned the length of his cock.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You said it breathlessly. "God, yes. This is what I have been craving so much."

"You little whore, you ought to know better than to take the name of the Lord in vain in the presence of a priest." Wooyoung teased, and you could feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on the back of your neck. The pleasure rippled through your body.

"Please, Wooyoung, please, I want to repent." You came close to whimpering. Your hips jerked in Wooyoung's tight grip in search of some kind of relief, and he reached forward to hold you tightly.

"You must try harder, darling. I want to see you try to repent." He placed his hands on either side of you, and the corners of his sensual lips curled up slightly into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the bench and looked at you from under his half-closed eyelids. You leaned forward and held his cock upright by the base. Sitting up, you rubbed the flushed head along your soft, wet folds, pushing it past your entrance and stretching the small hole with his thick, hot cock. Your heart pounded in your chest, pounding against your ribs as you slid on top of him all at once. At the obviously intense pain of his thickness stretching your narrow, silky walls, tears streamed from your eyes.

"Dear Lord." You let out a loud moan and rolled your eyes back as he suddenly filled you to the brim. Wooyoung didn't move, maintaining a majestic coolness, but you could see him sucking his plump lower lip into his mouth when he could feel your pussy enveloping him, a soft hiss coming from the back of his throat.

"That's it, my darling." He praised you, not being able to control himself, and he began to knead your plump tits in his hands. You squealed and barely moved your hips, still trying to get used to the idea of having something so massive and so hot inside of you. "I want you to fuck yourself on my dick. Can you do that for me like a good girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You replied breathlessly. You leaned over Wooyoung's shoulder and grabbed hold of the edge of the bench with both hands to prop yourself up. As you began to move slowly, up and down on his cock, Wooyoung pressed his mouth to your sensitive nipple and ran his tongue over it.

You were starting to sweat, but you continued to fuck yourself as ordered, gaining momentum with each thrust of your hips.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty church and mingled with the muffled, lascivious moans that escaped from your throat. You had never experienced ecstasy like this before, and you were not sure if you would ever be able to experience it again. You were insatiable, moving your hips in an almost painfully hard rhythm, your knuckles white from the force of your grip on the bench. The head of Wooyoung's cock reached your cervix, and you saw stars, unable to think of anything else but your inevitable orgasm and the devilishly beautiful man beneath you.

"Fuck, oh, fuck, Wooyoung, please..." You screamed out the words in an incoherent manner, completely consumed by the intense pleasure you were feeling. Wooyoung was a lot less eloquent than you and tried to control himself, but it was obvious that he was going crazy as well, judging by how hard he was pressing down on you. You could be sure that the marks that his hands had left on your body would be there for a long time to come.

He growled as he lifted his hips up towards you, and streams of tears began to run down your cheeks with renewed force. It hurt, but you loved the pain, you craved it, and you knew you wouldn't be able to forget it for weeks and weeks.

"I'm so close... oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." You let out a loud moan and threw your head back.

With that, he pushed you away from him with such force that you fell off his lap, your ass touching the cold velour carpet, his cock coming out of you just as you were about to come. You sobbed pitifully and looked up at Wooyoung with your eyes wide and glassy as he rose to his feet, his cock glistening with the wetness of your cunt.

"I don't think you're sincere enough in repenting; you're still full of sin, full of forbidden and dark desires, my dear." Wooyoung said it in a dismissive manner as he looked down at you. He leaned down and ran his long fingers through your hair, pulling you up until you were kneeling. "I know what you want, negligible girl. You want to cum. But unfortunately for you, today I'm the only one who can do it."

He mocked you, taking pleasure in the look of misery on your face as he forced your mouth open. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, letting you taste the arousal of your own as it covered him, and without any warning at all,, he began to fuck you in the face at a fast, merciless pace. Gagging on his cock and taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed down your throat, using your hair as a rein to guide your head, there was nothing you could do but take what was given to you. You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed against the smooth, hot skin of his pelvis, one hand holding you in place as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat. He released you and threw you on your side like a rag doll when he was sure you had drunk every last drop.

Too humiliated to look into the eyes of the gorgeous man who had brought you to this state, you began to sob, pulling your knees to your chest. There was no more holiness in Wooyoung than there was in the devil himself. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he wore a robe. At the moment, you were nothing more than a whimpering mess, bruised and humiliated, with a sore throat and trembling lips.

And yet somehow your cunt was throbbing and leaking, desperate for filling.

"Please, Wooyoung..." As the words left your lips, you felt numb and didn't even know how you could speak. "Please."

From where he was standing, he looked sinfully delicious, towering over you like a fallen angel dressed in black and sin as you lay on the floor, and you watched in disappointment as he tucked his dick back into his trousers. With what little strength you had left, you tugged at the hem of his trouser leg, and he tilted his head questioningly, a sensual smile crossing his plump lips at the sight of your hopeless state.

"Please. I don't know what you want me to repent for, but please.... Just... please. I'll do anything for you. Wooyoung..." You were on your knees, pressing your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging for food.

"What do you want, my child?" He asked in a voice that was patronising and majestic. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears that had partially dried as he did so. "Wasn't that enough for you? Isn't it enough that my cock fills your mouth and your cunt? Are you going to ask me for more when I have already given you so much?"

You lowered your eyes in shame.

He grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and jerked you to your feet, throwing you onto the bench as he did so. Wooyoung licked his lips as he admired the sight of your naked body as it lay on the wooden bench, the angry red marks on your skin, and the blackened bruises that adorned your thighs.

"Do you want to cum? Is that what you want, you little slut?" Wooyoung asked you as he dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide open. When you didn't answer, he smacked you hard on the inside of your thigh. "Answer me, bitch."

"Oh my God." You sighed, melting at the teasing sensation of the cold air of the wind on your hot and needy cunt as he spoke. "Y-yes Holy Father. That is what I want."

"Isn't it?" Wooyoung purred, holding your hips in place so that they would remain open for his pleasure. "I will be gracious to you, because that is what God commands us to be."

Suddenly, he lowered himself forward and buried his gorgeous face in your pussy, stroking vigorously between the folds of your pussy and collecting your sticky secretions on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangled in his black silk hair, reflexively rubbing your pussy all over his face. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking just enough to leave you stunned, and ran his tongue between your soft folds, swollen from his previous actions. Squirming helplessly under his ministrations, you cried out as he let go of one of your hips and slipped two long fingers inside you.

It was brutal—the way he moved his fingers inside you in a merciless way, his mouth working fervently over your clit. The edges of your vision became blurred, and soon you could feel the walls of your pussy beginning to contract, a sign that your climax was nearing.

"I... I... damn!" He flicked your head once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you came, throwing your head back in euphoria as you were consumed by your orgasm. Your cunt vibrated as Wooyoung laughed mockingly, and it was then that the whole situation became clear to you: you had been fucked, well and truly. He wasn't going to let you breathe; instead, he continued to play with your throbbing clit, a third finger thrusting into you with a dirty, lewd slurp.

"This is too much..." You whimpered as his tongue moved quickly around your sensitive clit, and his fingers spread you lightly as they went. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you—the pleasure coursing through you so strongly that it became unbearable—but you were sure that was what he wanted—to punish you with what you craved so much.

He ran his fingers inside of you, guiding them so that they hit the deepest places that no one else had ever been able to reach. He twisted and turned them, brushing against something that was spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Just as you had feared, Wooyoung had no intention of stopping; now he was sucking on your clit with such passion that you could barely move, and you fell limply to the back of the bench, your legs twitching under his tight grip. He continued to push his fingers deep into you, your body shuddering weakly each time the tips of his fingers made contact with your cervix.

"Wooyoung, please stop." You begged, but all he did was laugh maliciously and spread his fingers out inside of you, stretching you even further. He pulled away from your clit with a loud pop, and you were on the verge of a sigh of relief until he removed his fingers from your core and replaced them with his sinful lips.

"N-no, that's too much, please!" Now you were sobbing openly as he lowered his head to lick the stripes between your folds, his thumb circling your defenceless clit, his long silken hair tickling the sore skin on your inner thighs.

Wooyoung sucked one of your labia into his mouth before he pushed himself deeper into your entrance and began to fuck you with his skilled, long tongue. You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach once more, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he pinched your clit with two fingers. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you came, but this time everything was different: a wave of clear liquid burst from your overstimulated cunt and soaked Wooyoung's face and the front of his perfect shirt.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at the mess that you had made.

"You filthy little thing." He laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and licked his wet fingers at the mess. "So, what do you think? Have you come to understand how you can repent of your sins?"

"Y-yes, Holy Father." You said you were clenching your legs in a protective manner in case he decided to go for another round.

"Good." He rose to his feet again, looking just as untouched as he had been the first time you had seen him, except for his hair, which was slightly dishevelled.

Your whole body was aching, from your sore ass to your swollen cunt, from your hips to your back. You were sure that for the next few weeks, Wooyoung would be the only thing on your mind.    "I will be waiting for your return, my child. I need to be sure that you have understood the righteous path and that you are living without sin. Do you understand me, dear?"

"Yes, Wooyoung, I am definitely going to come back to confess."

[zvdvdlvr]

Personal Heating Pad

You groaned, turning your head and shoving it into the mildly soft juncture of your upper arm and lower arm. The cold bathroom floor was a pleasant juxtaposition to the way you were sweating. Heat always seemed to ease your period cramps, but this month’s wave of body-breaking cramps had been downright unbearable.

Aaron- your boyfriend of almost two years- called your name from the entrance of your apartment. A noise that resembled a pained groan and an irritated screech escaped your lips. It was uncouth, yes, but the pain you were in hurt more than being stabbed.

“What are- I’ll be right back, sweet girl,” Aaron said immediately after seeing you.

Now, Aaron had gotten used to how finicky you were when it came to your period. You would be sleeping the day away on day one of your period and then thrive off of twenty cups of coffee for the next two, popping Midol like you were about to preform medical malpractice and give a male patient some mouse bites.

Aaron reentered the bathroom a minute later and turned off the lights. The faint orange light came from your wax melter. He carefully slid his hand under your head and slipped a pillow under your head before carefully laying your head down. “Roll over, sweetheart,” Aaron murmured. A small grunt escaped his lips as he kneeled and weapped his arms around your waist. “Good job, honey.”

You felt tears prick your eyes at Aaron’s coos. One of your hands carded shakily through Aaron’s hair as the other pressed down hard on your lower stomach. Aaron kept his head up, watching your face warp with pain. His heart clenched at the rapid rise and fall of your chest, feeling guilty for not being able to protect you from the pain your own body produce.

“Everything hurts, Aaron,” you whined pitifully.

“I know, honey,” he whispered, kissing the hand on your stomach. “But I could make it stop.”

Your eyes snapped open and you peered at him with accusatory eyes. Your chest heaved and you felt the urge to slam your head into the floor. “How you would do that?”

“I could get you pregnant.”

You may have laughed if you weren’t in so much pain.

“Yeah?” You asked, leaning back and trying to survive the next wave of cramps.

“Yeah. You’d be good for nine months,” he hummed. “But I think that’s a conversation for another time.”

Your eyes screwed shut. “Put a rock on my finger first, Hotchner, geez.”

Aaron chuckled. “I will, sweet girl. I will.”

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 A Warm Body

Oviposition CW: egg laying Monster!Reader based on an Anon❤️ from a while ago, yandere!human, reader with male and female reproductive organs

Growling in frustration, (Reader's) long claws carved into the concrete flooring of the room they were kept prisoner.

Their swollen body ached with how full they were, going mad with how desperate they were for release. As soon as they emerged from the Earth to reproduce, a human shot them with enough tranquilizers to put down a herd of elephants, which is why (Reader) now found themselves in what was essentially a concrete box, locked in by a large steel vault. (Reader) cried out in need, craving release.

The metal door spun obnoxiously, multiple mechanisms whirring as it unlocked and squealed open. The man who shot (Reader) quickly entered, shutting the door closed again behind him. There were so many things he wanted to say, an entire romantic monologue planned for the creature he had spent his entire life obsessing over, researching and hunting despite no one else believing in (Reader's) existence. But before he could open his mouth, (Reader) had him by the leg, dragging him down beneath them.

(Reader) ignored the man's happy squeaks, ripping his clothes off to find a suitable hole. His face glowed with heat, blushing as he pitifully attempted to cover up his body. But his small, human body was no match for (Reader's), effortlessly holding the man up by his hips, unfazed by his weak flailing. With his ass presented to (Reader) they couldn't help groaning, nearly bursting just from the thought of being able to mate.

They pushed the man onto their large depositor, screaming in pleasure at how snuggly he fit on them. (Reader) slid him against them, animalistic grunts bouncing off the concrete walls as they mercilessly fucked him.

His smile and incoherent babbling was cute, but (Reader) didn't really care. It didn't matter that it felt good for their abductor, that he was in complete and utter bliss. Nor did they appreciate his erect penis twitching with his building climax, about ready to cum without touching it. The only thing that mattered was coating the insides of his ass with their protective slime, forming a type of pocket to protect their eggs from his bodily functions.

Squelching sounds filled the air as he slapped into (Reader's) pelvis wetly, creating strings of fluids stretching between their bodies. (Reader) could feel that they had pumped enough nesting liquid into him, with how round he was already becoming.

The man erratically spasmed as the first egg entered his asshole, hitting his prostate on the way in. Cum hit the concrete with the next egg, off-white droplets landing pathetically by (Reader's) feet and dripping onto his own face from the doubled over position.

But (Reader) wasn't done. Eggs continued pumping into his body, brushing past the overstimulated man's sensitive spot, bringing him to tears as his post ejaculated body was overwhelmed, fucking deep into his aching hole.

He couldn't stand or run away, his legs weak from his orgasm and his body tired from the sudden bloating from his unnatural impregnation. (Reader) carefully pulled out after finishing, satisfied from laying their first brood. The man wasn't a bad host for their offspring, still smiling through his drool and tears. His full body was cradled against (Reader's) protectively, feeling content with the new life laid inside of him.

(Reader) may have only needed a warm body, but they didn't mind using this one for the rest of their mating needs ❤️

[milkteabinniechan]

♡ sleep deprived - felix

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY commissions // m.list

pairing: idol! Felix x female reader (sort of)

warnings: masturbation, pillow humping, sleep deprivation (get ur sleep!!)

a/n: this is a long one, folks! but I'm proud :) comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Room service, single use shampoo, turn down service. Every hotel was starting to blend into one enormous mansion of anonymity. Felix dropped his bags at the door and pulled out his key card. A green light blinked and a locked clunked from inside the handle.

He pushed his way through to see what he had seen a hundred times before. A bed with sheets tucked in tightly and pristinely. A large television with crappy TV shows. A shower with complimentary towels and fancy soaps that would disintegrate and crumble within the first hint of water.

Felix sighed as he looked around at the all too familiar environment. Only this time, he was running on zero sleep. The plane that brought them all here had experienced terrible turbulence and as a result, he was never even able to close his eyes.

At this point, the adrenaline from the tour and the press conferences was started to wear off and now his body was just running on instinct. He made his way to the sprawling California king bed and threw his entire weight on top of it. The plush foam cushioned his fall and cradled his body and aching muscles in the exact way he needed.

Finally, he thought to himself, while his arms caressed the nearest pillow and squeezed it firmly underneath his head. Felix let his eyes flutter close as he tried to sleep, but what had happened the other night was keeping him up.

A few nights prior, Chan had brought you home to the apartment that he and Felix share. You had walked into the living room in a short black skirt, the pleaded fabric whipped lovingly across your bare thighs. Felix couldn't help but shift in his seat when he watched you make your way to Chan's bedroom. You were gorgeous.

You and Chan had hooked up a few times before, but Felix always came home when you were leaving. The two of you would exchange pleasantries and be on your way. But this particular day, Felix was home. He didn't want to listen. To eavesdrop. In fact, he had made a conscious and drastic effort not to listen. But your voice pierced through the music in his headphones like an alluring siren song.

And that's where Felix found himself in this moment, in this hotel room. In his ears still echoed the sounds of your moans, the rhythmic grunts of Chan as he slid in and out of you so exquisitely. The sounds reverberated in his mind. His hips gently began to press into the king sized mattress. A low grunt left his throat and into the pillow beneath his face. He could easily picture your soft skin and closed his eyes to imagine your sweet scent.

His hips picked up speed slightly while his growing cock was willingly enjoying the sensation of fabric to skin. His sensitive tip leaked and left a desperate little spot onto his boxer shorts. Felix pressed his face further into the plush pillow as he bucked his hips up and pulled the shorts off and into the floor. His hands squeezed the cushion and he imagined squeezing your soft legs, your delicate stomach. Sliding his tongue down to your perfect, soaking, tight....

"Fuck... Fuck.." Felix whimpered pitifully into the mattress as he pushed the pillow down to his throbbing cock with a frustrated force. He pictured your big, dark eyes looking into his as he slid into you nice and slow. He imagined your hands running down his chest and waist, gripping his hips to pull him further inside of you.

The pillow hugged the rigid length of him so sweetly as his mind turned fuzzy and dumb. His tip continued to leak and pour out onto the pillowcase, leaving a long, thin string of pre cum connecting him to the plushy faux cunt. His whimpers grew in volume and length. Drool fell from his lips while his hips rutted ruthlessly into the hotel bed. He could see you underneath him so clearly now and all he wanted was to fill you up so entirely that his seed would have no choice but to pour back out of you.

When Felix finally snapped back to reality, he witnessed the fruits of his labor. He sighed and instantly fell asleep. The deepest, longest sleep he had had in a very long time.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang

[faevi]

GOJO SATORU WAKES YOU UP - (smut)

Scenario: Gojo Satoru promised to help you wake up on time and fix your sleeping schedule. He decides to use his own methods. (SMUT).

Word Count: 3,890.

Content / Trigger Warning: female reader (she/her), somnophilia, cunningulous, finger sucking, gagging, tasting of oneself(?), fingering, squirting, praise, a little bit of degradation / humiliation, a sprinkle of possessiveness, hair pulling, marking with hickies, pet-names, slight size kink, gojo being hot?

Please let me know if i missed anything - if i have, it’s genuinely unintentional.

Note: As you can see, I'm slowly getting back into writing cause I miss it. So it might be a liiiiittle bit rusty. This is my first Satoru piece! I plan to write many more. This isn't proofread / edited - So please just ignore any mistakes lkdfgfd. I also tried to follow the aesthetic trends of how everyone posts their writing pieces?? Editing is hard. I hope someone reads this and likes it (: Please let me know if you do!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Satoru’s warm gaze never left the bed. Even as he blindly wraps the leather strap around his wrist, long fingers sliding the strap through the metal half circle, prick poking into the hole and tightens the watch. He decided to let you sleep in for an extra hour as he prepared himself for work. It’s difficult for the tall male to not indulge in spoiling you, especially when you look so cute curled up and drool seeping out onto the pillow.

Still…. He made a promise to both himself and you that he’d help you improve your sleeping schedule and limit sleeping in. It pains his heart whenever he watches you get upset from wasting hours of your day. Satoru gently sprays his cologne, dabbing it against the sides of his neck and wrists before setting the fancy-looking bottle down amongst your many that he’s purchased for you. He checks the time on his watch, already unbuttoning the few buttons of his white dress shirt. It’s 8:10 AM and he has to leave soon.

The white-haired male opts out on waking you up in a usual loud-playful manner of his. Simply because, well, you’re looking too cute. Just how you manage to coax him into letting you sleep in without even having to lift a finger. Satoru approaches the shared bed, feet silent against the carpet floor before he lowers one knee against the mattress, feeling it sink beneath his weight as he leans down, large hand sliding from your waist to hug around your stomach.

“Baby, it’s time to wake up..” Satoru speaks softly, voice his usual low and soothing. He scatters kisses against your bare shoulder, fingers gently brushing against your stomach before his palm presses against it. You only stir a little in your peaceful slumber, curling up further and pitifully trying to pull the blankets over your head. Satoru snorts, endeared by how you are just not a morning person at all. His loving attempt was a failure and he watches as you continue to sleep, wondering what you’re dreaming about.

Strands of white hair fall over his crystal blue eyes as he presses his bigger form against you, almost smothering you but he keeps his weight off of you, trying to peek at your face beneath the blankets. “If you wake up now, I’ll take you out for breakfast.” Satoru offers, hands on your body stopping as he waits to see if that temptation would have gotten a response. Nothing. Only soft breathing. ‘How can someone be such a heavy sleeper’, he thinks in almost disbelief. Satoru rolls his eyes before he stands up at the edge of the bed, hands tucking into the pockets of his black slacks. The sadistic, playful side within him calls to rile you up in the early morning by yanking the blankets and dragging your body off of the mattress but…

His heart just squeezes at the sight of the bundle of blankets forming barriers around you. Nothing is tucked in tightly, thanks to the fun last night and so instantly, an idea pops into his head. He has access. Satoru is often fantasizing about you. Hell, it feels like it’s every second of the day. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to focus on work or crack a joke to annoy his co-workers. Satoru is just the best at multi-tasking and right now, he craves to devour you and wake you up… eventually. Technically it’s multi-tasking.

Satoru bends over, lifting the blankets up cautiously from the bottom until he could see your bare legs. His heart begins to thump faster with excitement at the thought of touching you when you’re at your most vulnerable; cock twitching in his slacks. He flicks the blankets over to keep your legs exposed, hands rolling up the sleeves of his tight fitted dress shirt before he lowers his upper body onto the mattress, one hand guiding the blankets over his head until he finds himself trapped between your legs, hungry gaze falling onto your pussy.

Even with the darkness clouding around him from the blankets, Satoru can see everything. Your cunt already lightly coated in a light sheen of slick. Appearing so inviting for the taller male. He groans quietly, large hands cupping the back of your thighs and pauses for a moment. You don’t even squirm from the new touch. Whatever you’re dreaming about must be good. That, or your trust in him is so deep that it reaches sleep. He guides your legs over his broad shoulders, shifting himself so his knees are planted on the carpet, the length of your legs staying over his shoulders as he presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, tongue sliding out to teasingly dance across your smooth skin. His love-marks from last night only encourage him, lips latching onto your warm flesh to suck harshly to form another; now starting to feel you squirm a little.

You whine softly in your sleep, trying to roll onto your side but it fails as his strength easily keeps you flat on your back; body thinking nothing of it as you continue your peaceful slumber. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, though lips curled in amusement. “A sleeping beauty, all mine for the taking.” Satoru mumbles beneath his breath, fingers squeezing your flesh roughly before inching up until his long index finger glides between your folds. It slides so easily. Wet, already. He groans, pressing his crotch against the edge of the bed to try and contain himself. Invading your wet needy cunt with his cock would definitely wake you up but he thinks you need to earn it and you’re unable to do so in such a slumber.

Satoru is always in absolute awe when it comes to the sight of your pussy becoming so easily aroused just from his touch. Even as you sleep. Two of his fingers continue to cautiously glide up and down between your slick covered folds, grinning a little at noticing your thighs quivering from the careful touch. Even your hole clenches around nothing in response, desperate to be filled. Your eyebrows furrow, tilting your head into the pillow to lazily nuzzle against it in your sleep, inhaling the scent of the white-haired male that lingers. “Fuck, baby..” Satoru mumbles, two of his fingers pressing against your folds until they part to reveal your sensitive clit and needy hole. Strings of slick become visible and Satoru is always easily tempted. He drags his tongue between to break the strings, pleased by tasting you further.

With silent frustration towards the blankets hiding your face, Satoru swiftly yanks them off until the pair of you are exposed, blankets discarded on the floor. He coos mockingly as you begin to shiver from the cold. “Poor baby girl, needs warming up.” He whispers, toned arms wrapping around your thighs to keep them in place over his shoulders. Your inner thighs squeeze against his face, piercing blue eyes focusing on your sleeping face as he quickly dives in to devour you, growling lowly. His lips pressing sweetly against your sopping pussy, wet muscle dragging between your folds, moans muffled as he taste your sweet juices on his daring tongue. His mind going wild with the idea of what he could do to you as you sleep so deeply. It tempts him so much that Satoru thinks of testing further other times.

A whimpering moan parts from your sleeping lips, face scrunching up as pleasure spreads through your body from your core, fist bunching the sheets up. You stir in your slumber only slightly and for once, Satoru is glad you don’t wake up instantly. He feels powerful, being able to touch and kiss you when you’re completely vulnerable but still feeling the absolute bliss that is his tongue. Short nails dig into your thighs, pressing his face further between your legs as his open mouth makes out hungrily with your cunt. He could barely breathe from how firmly he’s pressing his face into your core, only inhaling the scent of your sex. His tongue laps up your sweetness before he leans in to press sloppy kisses to your throbbing clit, sucking harshly and tongue rubbing against the bud until he feels your legs tense up and tremble, pitifully trying to contain the ecstasy you begin to feel from his eager mouth never parting from your lower lips.

Tongue swirls around the nub lightly between his needy kisses, juices smearing across his handsome face. Blindly, your hand reaches down towards the source, fingers threading through his white hair. You begin to wake up. Slowly. Not truly able to get out of your slumber but, you feel the sweet pleasure wash over you constantly and your mind begins to seek for answers. “A-Ah… Wha— Nn…” You moan out, unable to form words from the cloud of sleepiness hanging over your head. What is going on? Something feels so good… You could barely lift it off of the pillows, eyes glancing down. You feel face get hot when realisation starts to hit you; Satoru is gazing back up at you. The piercing blue eyes wide and manic with a mixture of excitement & hunger. He’s eating you out like a starved man.

Satoru barely lifts his mouth to speak, voice dripping with lust and sounding breathless. “Good morning, princess. Finally awake, huh? Took me to touch your needy cunt for you to wake up? Filthy. My dirty little slut, hm?” The degrading words slip out through a teasing purr, prompting your free hand to pathetically try to cover your face. You feel your heart flutter, head dizzy with lustful thoughts. Drowsiness hands over your head but, it doesn’t stop your cravings starting to form. You couldn’t deny that the sadistic ways Satoru shows only causes your pussy to clench around nothing; wishing to be stretched out by his thick, pulsating cock.

“Nn, ‘toru, please—”

“No cock for you.”

He could practically read your mind by knowing you too well. That’s what you get for refusing to wake up in the first place, you suppose. Especially since you begged him to help you fix your awful habit. Satoru may love to spoil you, shower you in love and pleasure but, he can be almost scary with how firm he is with punishments. This isn’t the worst and so you accept it. You pout sleepily, eyes droopy as you watch the tall male bury his mouth against your wet cunt against, flustered by the sounds of just how excited your body is. It’s an addicting sight to see. A tall man lapping up your slick, groaning quietly from the delicious taste of you. He could taste you for hours on end if he could. Moans of his name part from you as you feel his tongue rub relentlessly against your pulsing clit, slurping loudly as his lips move against your folds, drinking every drop that dares to seep out. “Fuck, you taste so good.” Satoru groans, lips dragging down until his tongue teases your hole. You see stars, gasping sharply as you pull on the strands of his silky white hair.

Satoru groans from the ache he feels, head tilting back away from your hand to feel more of the painful tug, tongue licking over your fluttering hole, gently prodding at it. You anticipate it and, that’s why Satoru pulls away. He’s kneels up and grins down at you, admiring the way your body trembles so cutely beneath him. Your slick is dripping down his chin, coating his lower face. Your face falls from the loss of pleasure, attempting to whine in complaint. “Satoru, come on…” It does nothing, asides from making his cock strain even further against his slacks. Satoru takes his sweet time, wiping his face with his hand, watching as a string of your mess connects his fingers together.

“Dirty girl.” He comments before bringing his hand towards your face. “Open wide.” Satoru orders, voice smooth and instantly, you part your lips to happily take his long fingers into your mouth. Even this is spoiling. Satoru knows you have a wild fetish for his hands and so, if it’s not his cock that you can take; you’ll eagerly take his fingers down your throat. Your needy moans are muffled as you suck your own sweetness off of his fingers. The pads of his fingers press against your soft wet muscle, sliding them further down and watches intently as you swallow around them, his gaze darkening. Your throat muscles constrict around the invasion, causing you to gag audibly but you continue to suck like the filthy whore you are for this man.

“So good for me, aren’t you? Taking everything I give you.” He speaks soothingly, his free hand caressing your stomach. His other hand continues to slide long, slender fingers in and out of your mouth. You whimper, looking up at him with an ‘innocent’ gaze as you continue to obediently suck, only able to taste yourself, few droplets escaping down your chin. Satoru feigns calmness, checking the time on his watch. You couldn’t help but think how hot it is when he even checks the time. You’ve fallen that deep for the tall male. He’s definitely going to be late to work. Frankly, he doesn’t fucking care. They need him more than he needs them. What he truly needs? You. Always. Every shape and form. Still, this isn’t about him and so with every fibre of his being, Satoru ignores his cock, even though it throbs badly & craving to be touched.

“If you promise me to wake up properly when I wake you, I’ll let you come.” Satoru promises, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, thumb swiping gently against your lower lip. “P-Please, I promise! I’ll wake up on time, I swear.. I’ll listen to you, always. Please.” You beg, voice raspy from the lack of talking and having fingers deep down your throat. “Okay, baby~.” He coos, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your soft tiers, unable to deny how cute you are when you beg for him. You could smell is heavenly cologne gently waft over you from how close he is. One of your favourite scents. “Still, no cock.” He whispers breathlessly against your lips, hand trailing down to between your legs. You pout at him from denying you his cock once more, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close.

He lovingly rubs his nose against yours, obliging your clinginess by keeping his bigger form pressed against you in an embrace, scattering kisses against your jawline as his long fingers meet your needy core once more. He doesn’t tease you by dragging out his time with you, two of his fingers rub against your quivering hole before finally pushing in slowly. They slide in so easily. Even if it’s just his fingers, Satoru groans at the feeling of your tight, velvety walls cling around his digits, squeezing. Your breathing becomes erratic from feeling the sweet stretch around his digits; nothing compared to the entire length of Satoru’s thick cock but, his fingers still feel so heavenly inside of you. You briefly wonder if you could just live your life with a part of him always inside of you.

You’re clinging onto him, upper body rising off of the bed and his free arm wraps around you to keep you pressed against him, soft lips still attached to your jawline, sucking firmly enough to leave a bruise. Another possessive mark to wear with pride. His long fingers pump deep inside of you, feeling them drag along your warm slick walls as they push in and out. Moans just spill from you and Satoru feels so damn aroused just from how needy and precious you sound. Your slick already dripping onto the sheets as he continues to pound his fingers into your tight cunt roughly, angling them until—

“Oh!” You gasp sharply when a jolt of ecstasy rushes over your entire body, upper body jerking upwards from the sudden sensation. Satoru knows where to find your sweet spot quickly and is already eager to abuse it until he witnesses pretty tears in your eyes, sobbing his name out over and over like your own prayer. The white-haired male keeps you trapped beneath his large frame, plunging his fingers desperately, rubbing against your g-spot and keeping his blue eyes focused on your visage. Fuck, it really turns him on to see your face scrunch up and mouth hanging open as you’re unable to contain yourself, crying out for him.

You choke on a sob, toes curling against the crinkled sheets and bare breasts jiggling from the impact of Satoru’s fingers moving, encouraging your hips to move as you grind down onto them. You feel complete bliss, not able to feel flustered like usual from the wet squelching sounds of your throbbing pussy. Pleasure in the form of electricity just shoots through your body, trying so hard to contain yourself by tensing up. Satoru knows you’re pathetic when it comes to that. It’s adorable, really. He enjoys watching you try to hide how good it feels before you’re babbling out his name, screaming for him.

Just as you are now. From his fingers alone. You bite down on his shoulder, trembling hands holding onto him as you cry out for him, tears glued to your long pretty lashes. Your stomach is feeling so hot and tight, throbbing walls clenching around his relentless fingers. “Sweet girl, need to come?” Satoru chuckles softly, warm breath fanning against the side of your face. The free arm holding himself up aches a little but that is nothing compared to his strength. Though, he knows you’d probably love being smothered by his larger body; Satoru selfishly wants to witness it all. Witness you come undone by just his digits.

You whimper, deliberately squeezing around his fingers to coax out a grunt from him. It’s true. He can read you so well because you really do need to let go. Be broken in by the man. There’s an unspoken rule between you both and that is waiting on his permission. He loves how obedient you get for him in the bed. So fucking cute and sweet. He drags it out a little longer, not quite done with you. He grinds his fingers into you, now pressing his palm against your sopping pussy and makes contact with your overly-sensitive clit.

“Ah, fuck! Please!” You plead breathlessly, a hand coming down to weakly hold onto his wrist but neither of you refuse to stop him. Satoru peels himself off of you, creating more distance between your body and you could see his eyes cloud darkly with desire for something. “Come for me.” Satoru orders, free hand pressing against your stomach, the fingers deep in your core now rapidly moving up and down. You pant heavily, feeling your high swiftly approaching as you try to lean up on your elbows, thighs squirming. Everything feels so damn hot and sensitive, it’s a miracle you’re not snapping your legs shut on his hand as you usually can’t help it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuu—‘Toru!!” You cry out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure now constantly crash down over your body, leaving you trembling hard, eyes rolling. Satoru is quick to slide his fingers out to watch the heavenly sight he’s been craving for; you squirting. Fuck, he thinks. He’s panting himself as your sweet juices spurt out in lots, gushing hard all over the bed and his work slacks. “Squirting all over me, filthy girl.” He groans, not daring to blink. ‘Do not dare miss a moment’, he thinks. Your hips snap upwards, chasing the addicting high as your wetness continues to spill out. Tears escape, sobbing out for the white-haired male, body feeling so hot and tingly.

Satoru coos at the adorable sight of you coming undone from his mouth and fingers. Large hands caressing along your sides, not daring to hold you down through your orgasm. He enjoys it far too much as you tremble and cry for him. “Good girl..” He praises, one hand coming to stroke your hair, peppering kisses against your bare shoulder. His office clothes are a mess now, your fluids soaked in patches against his black slacks. He didn’t care. He loves you too much. Satoru lays next to you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in and lips cautiously brushing away your pretty tears, mixing in with the taste of your sweetness that lingers on his tongue. You slur out a whine when you feel his tongue against your face, body still trembling gently as it naturally comes down from the high. You feel so sensitive. No one else has ever made you feel anything this good until Satoru.

Satoru…

You just always crave to be with Satoru. Body, soul, heart & mind. This is where you belong. You lean back into his loving embrace, smiling from the multiple kisses that he presses to the top of your head, trying to look up at him through droopy eyelids. You could feel his bulge pressing against your backside. “Well, I’m awake now.” You joke sheepishly, prompting the male to snort and roll his eyes. “Didn’t take much to wake you, just my face buried between your legs. Should have tried that from the start, knowing how needy you are for me.” Satoru teases sweetly, lips curled to form a cocky grin. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, rolling over to bury your face into his firm chest, slowly gliding your hand down towards his crotch. His large hand smothers yours, stopping your movement and you pout. He’s still firm on the ‘no cock’ rule this morning for refusing to wake up, much to his dismay. His length aches from no action. You press an apologetic kiss to his broad shoulder, voice quiet.

“Don’t you need to leave for work? You’re already late.”

“Nah, they can wait a little longer. I’m with my girl.”

You smile at that, always feeling spoiled by him. You giggle softly, ignoring how sticky your legs feel as you tangle them with. He gazes fondly at you, arm draped over your side. His sweet girl. All his. He presses his lips to your cheekbone. It’s moments like these, that you really adore. Silence can even be comforting with the white-haired male. Satoru is in love with you. The warmth in his eyes will never fade, even if he’s feeling particularly nasty to ruin you in bed. His crystal blue eyes refuse to leave you, fingers splaying across your naked back, nails dragging over the hot skin. He clears his throat, trying to bite back a smug expression.

“So, Y/N. Dick for dinner tonight?”

You burst out with laughter, nose scrunching slightly. “Come on.” You say, sitting up and taking hold of his hand, fingers interlocking. You could feel your dried up slick causing his hand to become sticky. “Washing hands and breakfast first. I want your famous pancakes.” You express with a loud kiss to his cheek. Satoru puffs out his chest proudly before helping you off the bed, unbothered by the still wet patches on his slacks. It’s a pleasant reminder, after all.

“Anything for my princess.”

[literaila]

Can we get a scene where reader and satoru get sent to the principals office? I think it would be so chaotic

“y/n,” satoru coos, poking at your cheek. “c’mon, i know you want to say something.”

you slap his hand away, refusing to look at him.

“you’re scowling, and your mouth keeps twitching,” your face hardens even more and satoru sighs. “just let it out. it’s just us, you know? no need to feel self conscious around little old me.”

you let his stupid arrogant voice ring out, crossing your arms.

your eyes are drooping, your neck is sore and you feel… furious, idiotic, nervous, and most of all—furious.

this is all gojo’s stupid fault, with his stupid ideas, his stupid sunglasses, and his stupid gps.

seriously, how dumb can one person be?

you’ve gotten in trouble with him before—for bickering during training, or stealing his snacks, or being late for dinner because someone forgot how to tie his shoes—but it’s never been this bad.

yaga’s never had to step out of the classroom for so long to… what? avoid a heart attack? keep his head from exploding?

so if you’re ignoring satoru and secretly plotting his demise, who can blame you?

if nanami were here, he would approve.

gojo groans. “just say something,” he pleads. “i hate the silent treatment. i might die. do you want me to die?”

and maybe it’s his tone of voice, or the innocence he’s showboating, or his mental incompetence, but you break.

“go to hell,” you hiss, still staring at the chalk board.

damn it.

he grins at you, pulling on the sleeve of your shirt. “that’s not very friendly,” he tells you. “what would haibara say?”

maybe you can’t look at him because his face is another one of your breaking points. if only yaga was as susceptible to his grin as you.

“he would tell you to stop antagonizing me,” you slump down in your seat, feet tapping against the floor anxiously.

“what? i wouldn’t do that to my favorite underclassman.”

“this is all your fault.”

satoru snorts. “i cant even drive,” he argues. “and you’re the one who made the key.”

“only because i was listening to you! you told me no one would even notice.”

“i don’t recall.”

“‘c’mon, y/n,’” you mock, “‘it’ll be fine. everyone’s sleeping. don’t you wanna go for a joyride?’”

“who is that supposed to be?”

“i can’t believe you.”

satoru sighs. “how is this my fault? you’re the one who couldn’t sleep.”

you finally turn to him, eyes sharper than daggers. his smile can go to hell too.

“i hope you’ve enjoyed your life so far because it’s going to be over as soon as we get out of here.”

“go ahead and try, sweetheart.”

“i will kill you—“

satoru shakes his head. then he holds his hands up in defense. “you try and help a friend,” he says, so pitifully. “you try to be nice and instead of thank you, you get threatened.”

you lean towards him unconsciously. everything about satoru is a antithesis to evolution, to karma. “you want me to thank you for getting me potentially expelled?”

he laughs. “you’re worried about yaga? that pushover? when me and suguru broke that wall he just told us that curfew was an hour earlier.”

“well we didn’t break a wall, you dimwit! we stole a car!”

satoru taps at the table, snorting. “dimwit? that’s what you came up with?”

“it’s four in the morning!”

“is that why you’re so moody?”

“i am not moody,” you kick at his leg. “you’re just annoying.”

if nothing else, at least the bickering is a nice distraction from the actual crisis at hand.

in a couple of days you’ll probably appreciate this moment for what it is. appreciate gojo for caring about your insomnia and pulling you away from your hell of a world for at least a couple of hours.

you’ll recognize him for what he is. you’ll remember that the only reason you agreed to a late night drive with him is because of those eyes, because he smiled at you when he asked and—

you’ll look back at this fondly someday.

but for right now you would like to blame gojo for everything and punch him in his stupid face.

he nudges you back. “you’re freaking out about this for no reason.”

“we’re locked in a classroom waiting for yaga’s verdict,” you grind out, “he dragged you in by your ear.”

gojo waves a hand. he leans back in the chair, hands behind his head. “he’ll yell at us for an hour and then make us clean the common room.”

“i saw a vein on his forehead.”

“that’s always been there.”

you sigh and close your eyes. “i’m going to be homeless. i’m gonna be kicked out and i’ll have to work at a gas station for the rest of my life and i’ll probably be fired and i’ll never amount to anything.”

satoru laughs.

you whine, laying across the desk. “i’m never going to see shoko again.”

“i’m sure she’ll visit you at the gas station. you know how much she smokes.”

you make a face. “i’ll have to find some old rich guy to marry.”

“just marry me instead,” satoru suggests, easily.

you give him a blank stare. “you’re already dead in this scenario.”

he yawns, looking around. then he turns back to you. “are you really only going to miss shoko? what about me?”

“i’ll go to your funeral, i guess.”

satoru pouts. “i was helping you! i’m older and wiser. just trust me on this.”

“i trusted you when you said there was no way for yaga to find out.”

“okay…” satoru licks his lips. “so i make one mistake.”

you glare at him. “one?”

he grins. “at least if we get expelled, we’ll be expelled together.”

“are you kidding? me and one of the three special grade sorcerers? you’ll get a slap on the wrist.”

satoru contemplates this for a moment, and you suddenly realize that he looks.. tired. did he stay up just to entertain you? should you feel bad for getting him in trouble because he wanted to make you feel better? should you care about him at all?

he taps at his chin, another smile breaking his face. “you bring up a good point. i’ll just threaten yaga if he tries to kick you out.”

you groan, rubbing your eyes, deciding you don’t care if he’s tired or not. “i genuinely don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

“well, it’s—“

and then the classroom door opens.

both of you sit up—because despite whatever satoru might say, you know he’s just feigning nonchalance. if anything, he’s at least dreading a lecture.

its just instinctual when you open your mouth, really.

“it’s all gojo’s fault—“

“she’s the one who crashed the car—“

you both turn to each other simultaneously, words clashing into one another.

satoru frowns and you point a finger at him. “it’s called parking you asshole—“

and, okay. maybe its a little bit your fault.

[milswrites]

Stubborn Little Fox

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris struggles to look after his stubborn mate when you are sick.

Warnings: Poorly reader but it’s pretty much fluff. Maybe some suggestiveness.

Notes: Just a silly little fic to tide you over until I finish the angst I’m writing. Dedicated to @sarawritestories who wrote me this exact scenario in an attempt to get me to stop writing and go to bed 😌

Your bed was empty.

Again. 

The wrinkled covers pulled back to reveal the bare sheets of where you had once laid, where Eris was supposed find you soundly sleeping upon entering the room.

The Autumn Prince cursed lowly under his breath, knuckles turning white with frustration as he tightly gripped onto the tray of food he had prepared for you.

It was easier to control his hounds - Eris thought as he carefully placed the tray down on the edge of the bed, lest he toss its contents onto the floor in his anger.

Eris was used to completing impossible jobs, and yet nothing has been more difficult than trying to wrangle his sick mate and convince you to sleep away your illness. Your inability to sit still making caring for you harder than Eris had initially anticipated.

He needn’t try too hard to find you, a swift wander down the hall and to his office was all Eris needed to walk before he opened the door to find your sickly form hunched over his desk with a pen in hand. Scribbling away at whatever documents had been left for you once you had recovered.

It was impossible to stop the exasperated sigh which fell from his lips as he took in the paleness of your face and the worrying sheen of sweat which had coated it.

“And why, pray tell me, aren’t you in bed where you’re supposed to be Little Fox?” Eris snarled, all comfort forgotten as he once more found himself trying to coax you back towards your bed.

With shaking hands you reluctantly place your pen down, guilty eyes meeting the burning stare of your mates unforgiving glare. “I’ve got work to finish!” You defend, gesturing to the stack of paperwork which had only grown during your absence from your job.

At your excuse, the red-haired male inhaled deeply, a disbelieving hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. And it wasn’t until Eris exhaled his frustrations that he allowed himself to reply as softly as he could, “work can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“It can’t,” you reason, a disappointed sigh drawing from your sickly lips, “I’m far enough behind as it is. Another day without work and I’ll never be able to catch up. Besides, I’m fine. I feel much better now.”

Whilst Eris prided himself on holding back the roll of his eyes which threatened to occur, he failed to stop the raise of his brow as you proceeded to burst into a fit of coughs after your weak-willed reassurances.

“All better?” He mused, a small smirk finding its home on his lips as he watched you pitifully try to compose yourself. Innocent eyes meeting his own as your incessant coughing eventually came to a halt.

“I have to say Little Fox, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like going against my orders” Eris chided, slowly walking towards you as he spoke. Each step forward drawing you deeper into his hypnotic trance. “Would I be correct in assuming you keep leaving your bed because you want me to scold you?” He asks teasingly, bringing his face down to meet yours, until his playful eyes were level with your own.

“I can’t say I’d hate it if you had to take care of me” you replied honestly, unable to help the way your gaze drifted towards your mates slightly parted lips.

“Is that not what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eris feigns hurt which fails to read through his wicked smile, “Taking care of my mate?”

“I can think of a few more ways I’d like to be taken care of” you answer, hoping to be seductive but ultimately failing as another round of coughs wrack your chest.

“Later” Eris chuckled, his strong arms coming to lift you from where you were sat, “for now you need sleep.”

You furrow your brows in protest, opening your mouth to argue with your mate before he beat you to it. Eris’s soothing voice acting to calm you, “Don’t worry, I’m going to have to cuddle you just to make sure you don’t run off anywhere else.”

Eris’s warm lips came to meet your aching forehead, his kiss already working to dissipate the uncomfortable pulsating of your sore temples. Your mates healing touch enough to already have you drifting off in his comforting embrace.

“My stubborn Little Fox,” he uttered as he began to move back towards the bedroom which you shared, cradling you close to his body in hope that the heat which he emitted would soothe your aching joints, “you better feel well again soon, I’ll be waiting to deliver your punishment for disobeying me.”

You hum happily in response, nuzzling your face into his warm chest to hide your smirk of anticipation, “I’m looking forward to it, My Prince.”

It was only once you woke, when your fever had broken and the ache in your muscles had quelled, that you noticed that Eris was no longer holding you. That it was his turn to escape the comfortable confines of your sheets which had now grown cold in his absence.

Stepping out from the warmth of your covers, you walked barefoot across the cold wooden floors. Seeking the ever-lasting warmth of your mate. You followed the call, moving through the hall until you found yourself outside his office, the strong scent of crackling wood and chestnuts enough to tell you the male was waiting inside.

Cracking open the door you peered inside, noting the way Eris was slumped over the freshly inked papers you had saved to work on when your health had improved.

Your mate - your selfless, loving mate - had completed them all. No doubt seeking to ease your worries and provide you with the extra hours of rest you would no doubt need once you had woken.

Quietly pulling the door to, you move to the kitchen to prepare your love a warming tea. Because as much as Eris longed to take care of those he loved so dearly, sometimes what he needed was for someone to take care of him in return.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

ACITHYCS.

“a crack in the heart you call stone” (john wick/fem reader)

Running away from John Wick is never a good idea. TW: nsfw, noncon, dead dove, abuse, violence, power dynamics except the reader doesn’t have any power, smacking, spanking, choking, rough, awful shit. Your assassin sweetheart is not sweet in this. He’s fucked in the head, but I mean it is your fault.

It was a really, really, really.

Really. 

Bad fucking idea. 

Bad fucking idea to turn cottontail and run away in the night. 

Run from him.

But you did, didn’t you? Maybe because you didn’t realize what a stupid decision you were making, maybe because you were too scared to stay, maybe because you didn’t know what else to do. 

Maybe because running away from monsters is the standard of sane and you needed to prove that you were not crazy. 

“That’s bullshit,” you know he’d say, “your decisions are your own and you will deal with their consequences.”

And, oh fuck, you haven’t heard his voice in so long - that sweet honey heroin aphrodisiac infused growl - but somehow little drops of it still sit sticky inside your ears. 

Your cotton panties feel uncomfortable and clingy, and you have to squirm several times in your seat to pull fabric from damp folds. 

That’s the worst part, the one that makes you want to put a 9 mm barrel in your mouth because surely - guaranteed - you’re sick in the head for almost - ha, who are you kidding - for definitely - wanting him to find you. 

Insane after all, even through the trouble to prove otherwise. 

You shouldn’t get out of the cab, you shouldn’t walk upstairs to your apartment, you shouldn’t open the already unlocked door, you shouldn’t start curling your toes and burning when you see him casually sitting at your dining table, drinking a cold beer and eating leftover pizza. Like he just belongs here, in the life you picked specifically void of him.

He ignores you, favoring the newspaper clutched in his fist, munching and relaxing and as handsome as any husband should strive to be.

You take the chair opposite from him and press your thighs together in anticipation of that involuntary, awful clench of your cunt when his broody eyes meet yours. You try to rest your hands on the table, but pull them back into your lap when you notice they are visibly shaking. 

“John.” You’re surprised you can talk through the saliva filling your mouth. 

“Hello, honey,” he says, then kicks the table out of the way and muffles your scream with the loud crash into the kitchen counter. No barrier between the two of you now - really, you’re a fucking idiot to think anything could keep this beautiful, horrifying human wrecking ball away from you - and he fists the loose fabric dress over your tummy and tugs you forward. 

“You know what happens now?” He asks, terrifying you with a smile. 

You blink owlishly up at him, tears globbing on your bottom lashes, body shaking violently, and ask: “wh-what?” 

Instead of answering, he grabs your throat, takes you off your feet and slams you - not gently - against the wall. Picture frames smash to the ground, scatter glass over the linoleum. One minute you’re breathing, and the next you’re wondering what delicious air even tastes like.

You claw at his hands, face swelling up and turning a shade of beautiful blue that grabs his cocks attention - the length of him fattens up against your tummy and he grinds into your soft, plump skin, hard and unforgiving. 

There’s black hellfire in his eyes, a dark promise to make you sorry for your miserable little John-free existence, and, for a second, you resign to the notion that he is going to keep his iron grip around your suffocating throat until you pass out. Your vision is already blurring and darkening, claws scratching pitifully at his arms. A little woodland creature in a big bear trap. 

But, he lets you go, dropping you right on the hard floor, and you land on your ass, gasping for air, face soaked from tears, dress ripped down the middle. He jams his pointy shoe in between your legs, pressing the tip into your cunt, hurting you. 

“John, please,” you whimper through grit teeth, trying to push his leg away and only getting a big black dress shoe crushing your pussy as reward. 

Your head flips back, neck craning just enough to put agonizing tension on your scalp and spine. His fist nets what feels like every tearing hair on your head, and you can’t help but screech in pain. 

“Please,” he repeats, voice eerily calm even as he’s shoving his fingers down your throat and making you choke. He pulls out and leaves thick white spit dripping onto your pouty lips and chin. He smears the excess on your cheek and smiles down at you - almost lovingly - “you’re begging already? Fucking pathetic.” His foot digs deeper into you and you let out a cry, proving his point. You are pathetic. 

“Oh, I missed this tight little cunt,” he sighs and closes his eyes as if talking to himself. “Thought about her every fucking day.” 

“John, I’m sorry, I-“ 

“Shut up.” He slaps you on the cheek, hard enough to leave a big red welt, then lugs you up by your hair. He doesn’t bother to move his leg, so your bare skin scrapes raw on the rough fabric of his pants. “The only thing that’s gonna come out of that pretty mouth from now on is ‘yes, John.’”

He spins you around, manhandles you onto the counter, presses his cock into the cotton of your panties and slaps your ass harder than he had done to your face. He watches your plump jiggle and retract, wets his lips, grunts. “Did you hear me, babydoll?” He slaps the same spot, and you yelp and claw at the counter. 

“Yes, John.” The phone is right beside your head, you see the screen light up with worried texts from your friends, asking if you’re home yet. You could try and pick it up, call someone, dial 911, but this is John, and you know there’s not a chance in hell you could touch that phone without him crushing it in one grip. 

“Oh?” He sees where your eyes are, of course he does. He’s a fucking lethal predator, and you’re just a stupid girl. “You wanna call somebody to come save you? Do it. Call them. But you’re gonna watch attentively while I kill them all, I can promise you that, honey.”

Fat wet tears run down your cheeks and puddle on the counter. You can’t help but feel partially responsible for the crazed, lightless black fire in his eyes. The way he’s completely gone and fucked in the head. No, not partially. This is all your fault. You drove him to madness, left him with a broken heart that turned black and rotten over time, and now you’re gonna deal with the repercussions. 

He grinds up against your cunt and ass, so smashed in that you feel his plump cock head chafing your clit. He tugs on your hair to bring your face off the counter. “My little cry baby’s gonna be sobbing a lot more often, now.” He tsks as if disappointed. 

He slaps your ass for a good bit, alternating each cheek, using the tips of his fingers to make the sting unbearable. You almost move your hands to cover the raw red skin, but he tugs your head back harshly in warning. 

You whimper and put your hands back on the cool counter, wishing it was your ass instead - the tissue is on fire, a new level of burning every time his hand meets your flesh. 

His palm is worse than his fingertips. It’s a throbbing pain that shoots over your back, legs, and tummy, and he gets you screaming with a big, ruthless swing. Screaming and crying and kicking your feet and biting your lip hard enough to taste pennies. 

Sharp slaps on your plump little cunt turn you into a sobbing, begging wreck of a human. Then, he pulls your panties to the side and pinches your burning labia, tugging and stretching, making it snap and swell. 

“She missed my cock, huh? How many times did you try and fail to fill her up?” 

He unzips himself and pushes his pants and boxers down, then jams his massive cock into your unprepared hole and you wail into the counter. 

“How could you fucking do this to this to her?” he laments with a snarl, thrusting into you with shattering, slow slams. 

You try and nudge yourself onto the counter to get his raging tip away from your cervix, but he pulls you farther down on him instead and starts taking what he wants, hard and unforgiving, hair fisted in his hand so that your back arches for his cock to pound deeper into you.

“John. Please. I can- can’t. Fuck. Too much. It hurts.”

He smacks your ass with palm again, only this time latching to your skin, fisting a pound of flesh and fat. That familiar flop flop flop��of your body accommodating his intrusion tells you that you’re soaking his dick and making it easier for him to fuck you harder. Traitorous fucking whore. 

“What did I say?” He asks you, that poised voice cracking into growls and grunts and groans, slick with impending orgasm. 

You don’t answer soon enough, and he digs further into your ass with blunt nails. You feel like he’s going to rip the meat right off your body. 

“Yes, John.” But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t let up. He gets meaner, lifting your feet up off the ground and your head impossibly higher in the air, making so the only thing holding you up is his brutal cock. You feel fucking impaled. 

You’re helpless, trapped, humiliated, and all you can do is take the rough slap of his pelvis against your abused skin. When he reaches down and pushes his fingers into your swollen lips to find your clit, you can’t help but hate yourself for enjoying this - this consuming fire spreading, overtaking, the choice to orgasm from this brutality ripped away from you as he rubs and fucks you toward blinding, white hot release. 

He leans over you, puts one foot on the counter beside your ass to give him an impossibly deeper angle that reads like his cock is in your womb. 

With all senses overwhelmed by excruciating pleasure - an impending orgasm that’s going that’s going to wreck you - the only thing you can really do is cry and take it until he decides to baste your burning cervix in cum. 

It’s immediately spurting from you, coating your thighs, his legs, dripping pearly rivulets onto the floor. He replaces his dick with two fingers, wrenching away any hope of release, gathers some fluid and brings it up to the only unstained place - your asshole. He costs the outer tissue, pushes two fingers in and curls them down, rubs at your delicate insides harshly. 

“Think you can handle my cock in your ass, Mrs. Wick?” He leaves two fingers inside your anus and pushes his thumb into your snapping, gaping, runny cunt. You push back onto his finger, trying to fuck the almost orgasm free from your aching hole. 

John snorts as if to laugh at this whorish attempt. 

“Tell you what, I’ll give you two choices: I shove my dick into your ass and fuck it as hard as I want til’ I cum again. Or. I spend a few hours prepping you to take my cock. What do you think?”

“Need a break,” you mumble, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks in shiny rivulets. 

He smacks your thigh. “That wasn’t an option, honey.”

“Okay… okay.” Your frantic, hissing tone makes him smile for the first time in a long while… For the first time since you ran away from him and left a sobbing, drunk, blood hungry mess of a man on the kitchen floor; surrounded by glass and blood and splintered wood, screaming, smashing everything in the house to tiny pieces. You don’t know how many people have died terrible deaths for the absence of this spongey, tight, beautiful pussy - Christ, he even dabbled in torture just to see if it would get him off like you could. 

But he’s going to spend the rest of your life reminding you - reminding you that if you ever fucking leave again he’ll kill everyone until you have no one left but him. 

“Ten seconds and then I’m picking for you,” he murmurs, kissing behind your ear. 

He has to press his weight into your hips to keep them from rocking down onto his fingers - the ones he’s got shoved up to the hilt of his hand inside you, teasing your front wall with languid little rubs. 

The resigned, pathetic defeat in your tone warms his heart. “Second option.”

“Which one was that again?” 

“Prep me.” 

He nips your cartilage with his teeth, wrenching a little beaten whine from deep in your throat, the loss of his bully fingers making you clench and spasm and writhe. 

He picks you up, cradles you to his warm heartbeat, kisses your head. You can’t help it, you fold into his embrace, cling to the John you once knew, hands clutching at the lapels of his suit in some desperate attempt to find comfort. 

“I’m sorry, John.” You choke on whimpers, smothering your tears into his collar. 

“Oh, babydoll,” he coos, smoothing your sore scalp. “No you’re not. But you will be.” 

[wannaeatramyeon]

Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

.

.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

.

.

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

.

.

.

.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?"  you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

.

.

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

.

.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

.

.

.

.

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

.

.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

.

.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

.

.

.

.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

.

.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Can I request 23, 20 and 13 with Azriel? Please and thank you!

Reckless

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of blood and injury, fluff

Based on the below prompts:

It’s three in the morning. If even half of that blood is yours you need to sit down right now. I don’t like saying ‘I told you so’ but- The hell you don’t, it’s your favourite phrase.

Enjoy!

The ticking clock and the sky drowning in its sorrow was enough to warn you that Azriel was going to be late. A once roaring fire had long since extinguished, bright molten embers nothing but ash that trickled through the grate and dusted the base.

It wasn't often that you had a moment with your mate, a real evening away from your duties to your court, and when you did you both made sure to put the maximum amount of effort in. Whether it be long walks along the Sidra, or nights in cooking together which you would always commandeer, Azriel would never miss it, he'd never meaningfully skip a chance to see you.

As the clock chimed, you turned your head to see the ornate finger poking the invisible one and sighed, shaking your head and pitifully scraping the untouched dinner plates into the compost bin, leaving them on the counter to tend to in the morning.

The house felt cold without him, but even then you'd still complain that it was cold when he was right beside you just so that you could have his arms wrap around you securely, and you were sure that he knew about it from the sly smirk he would always give you before opening his arms to, chuckling to himself as you'd scurry into his embrace.

Azriel had sent nothing down the bond, which meant that he was busy, but he was so late, five hours late be exact and it made you feel on edge; every time he had been late in the past he would send a flurry of adoration and guilt down the bond to reassure you that he would return to you, but there was nothing but stone cold silence and shadow shrouded walls locking you out.

Twiddling the large rock on your ring finger you began the journey to your bedroom.

Rhys had insisted on buying yourself and Azriel your own home as a mating gift, but not only that, he wanted to thank you your loyalty and the personal sacrifices you had both made to protect them and the Night Court, Azriel as his Spymaster and you as Prythian's best healer; that came in the form of a two-story town house on the outskirts of Velaris, far enough to have your own space, but still close enough so that you'd be available if you were needed.

The home was a perfect myriad of you both, deep blue armchairs and dark oaken floors, bookshelves packed full of Azriel's tomes and research with your own passion pieces littered between them. The kitchen was very much made for you, a large stove, hooks for all of your strangely carved mugs, a pantry to die for which you always strived to keep fully stocked. Cookbooks stood along the windowsill and a pair of weighing scales sat before them, ready to be thrown into another one of your culinary adventures.

You weren't sure sometimes if Azriel was more excited to be mated with you or eat the food you had offered him that night.

The bedroom was missing its other inhabitant, evident in the dim glow from a single flickering candle that made little to no movement as you entered, frowning and going about to reset the room, putting away the massage oils and peeling back the comforter to climb into its shivering embrace.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before you had heard him, scuffing his feet along the floor of the lounge and stopping, no doubt peering about at the effort you had made for date night, and you heard him sigh before his feet hit the steps heavily.

His scent had always flooded you, but you weren't a happy mate in that moment as you curled onto your side with your back facing the door. A cold breeze drifted in from the world he had brought into your home with him, "Angel..." his voice was quiet, pained, you could tell he was feeling guilty.

"It's three in the morning," you grumbled, staring out at the crescent moon beyond the paned window, your fingers brushing through the unbound hair that had fallen over your neck.

Then it hit you, the all to familiar metallic smell that you had become so accustomed to, so accustomed to that you hardly ever realised it was near unless there was copious amounts of it. Sniffing deeply, you rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on your elbows, examining your mate who was stood in the doorway with his head hung low.

From where you lay, you could see the blood glistening in the moonlight as his hand lay stuck to the doorknob. Shallow breaths passed through his lips and he winced at each one, then he tilted his head back and you saw him, and you gasped. His bottom lip was busted, blood leaked from it as it did from the cut to his brow, his hair was tussled and matted, his eyes were dark and dreary.

"If even half of that blood is yours you need to sit down right now," you threw the covers off of you and moved toward him, taking his face in your hands and looking into his eyes.

Azriel winced with every step he took toward the edge of your bed, usually you'd tell him off for mucking up the sheets, but you didn't say another word as you flitted about the room and gathered your usual supplied from the bathroom before settling onto your knees in front of him.

He knew that you were internally cursing him for getting himself into that state, you had told him endlessly to be careful, to listen to his shadows and leave if things seemed more sinister than usual. This particular mission had not been one that you had agreed with at all, but you had little say in the details of his career, he knew what he was doing and you usually trusted that.

It had only been a few days prior that you had told him that he needed to slow down, that you knew he wanted to do all he could to protect you and his home, that you couldn't think about bearing his child until he did. The thought of being a single mother terrified you, you had been very truthful about it, how you were so afraid that one day he might now return to you and you wouldn't be able to care for another life let alone your own.

Azriel hissed as you dabbed a cotton pad of alcohol to his bottom lip, doing your best to be gentle with him. You had muttered a small sorry, but when he surveyed your face, he saw unfiltered fear in your eyes, and he knew you were thinking about the worst case scenario.

You knew better than to ask for details, he wasn't the most open of males, but he was trying to be, for you. He had told you some details of the mission and you had expressed your ill feeling toward it, you had told him it felt too dangerous.

Your mate happily accepted the tonic you had given him to keep the pain at bay whilst you worked, pressing your fingers to his cuts and bruises and allowing your healing glow to fix him. You were from the Dawn Court, you were Thesan's most gifted healer, and you had healed Azriel when he crashed into your court after being hit by an ash arrow by some grounded assassins, from that moment there was no place he would allow you to be than right beside him.

"I didn't feel you," you muttered with a strained voice, clearly trying to hold back your tears, you had seen your mate in some terrible ways, but this had to be one of the worst.

"Fae bane," he hummed in discomfort when you moved your palms to the entrance wound of a knife no doubt, closing your eyes and allowing your power to float into him, your essence entangling itself with his own and mending every broken tendril of shadow, "You were right, I shouldn't have gone. Nothing about it felt right and I didn't listen to you."

"I don't like saying I told you so, but-"

"The hell you don't, it's your favourite phrase," it was no time to laugh but you smirked at his quip, one that he mirrored, and you knew then that he was going to be absolutely fine.

Azriel's face was clean from the cuts and bruises, and he looked physically relieved as he rolled his shoulders and his shadows came out to say hello, slithering up your arms and kissing your cheeks in thanks. His fingers grasped the backs of your thighs as you did a final check over, his touch sending lightening spreading through your body, and he pressed his lips along your collarbone, humming as he drank in your scent and felt peace consume him.

"I'm sorry for missing tonight, I'll make it up to you I promise," he mumbled against your skin, "You have me all week. I'm going to tell Rhys that I'm going to take it easier from now on. I want to focus on us, on you."

Hazel pools of serene bliss flowed into you and you kissed him, softly just in case he winced, a ghosting things that left him needed more, "You know how you could make it up to me right now?"

Azriel's eyes darkened with desire, pulling you closer, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back a few inches, smirking at his confusion, "You can take a shower, you stink and you're covered in blood," Azriel's face fell and you laughed, a pure and playful thing as you peered to where he was sat, "I'll change the sheets whilst you do. I cannot sleep with blood on the sheets, especially when I'm not sure if it's even yours."

Your mate rolled his eyes and stood, swaying over to the bathroom whilst peeling his leathers from his body, he lingered in the doorway and gazed back at you still kneeling at the foot of the bed, smirking, he drawled "It's not."

When he had returned, free from blood and smelling of his usual cedar musk, he climbed into the freshly made bed and pulled you close to his chest, inhaling the coconut from your shampoo as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Does this mean I get to put a baby in you now?" Azriel's eyes drifted closed, willing a certain dream to infiltrate his consciousness as sleep began to consumed him, dragging him down into its embrace as you soothed out any tension in his body as you allowed your hands to trickle down his arms and over his chest. Sleepily and with a dragging tone that told you he was moments away from slipping into another world entirely, he spoke softly, "It's my favourite dream."