#( just might have tapped into your mind and soul | asks. )

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop��instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

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cont in comments !

[merakiui]

[0] 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢.

yandere!twst x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, non-consensual touching, power imbalance, abuse of power, descriptions of religious imagery, attempted non-con, hypocrisy, solitary confinement, rollo is immensely creepy, archaic mindsets and logic masterlist // prologue (you are here) // one

Without a shred of sympathy, discarded like dross, you are thrown before Father Flamme’s feet.

You have enough grace and dignity to resist the urge to grasp at his robes and beg for forgiveness. Instead, you condemn yourself to silence, allowing his piercing stare to stab through you with a judgment so precise it might just slice the skin from your skeleton. Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and you can almost taste his disapproval, much like a snake might parse chemical witchery in the air.

“Lift your head, if you would,” he commands gently, and you do as you’re told. He folds his arms over his chest and looks on, cold as winter’s frost. You watch his finger tap out a soundless rhythm. “I must ask of you, Sister, to provide reason to your recent absences. As a child of God, you have taken oath to follow His wise teachings and devote yourself to serving this church. Am I wrong?”

“You speak wise and true.” You rise to your feet and, ignoring the brutes who so rudely cast you forward in the first place, bow your head in apology. Father Flamme waves them out without sparing so much as a second glance. “You are right that it is my duty to serve the church. I ought to be doing just that and yet I have failed to do so. Undeserving I may be, I ask that you pardon my negligence.”

Father Flamme hums. Standing in front of the altar, backdropped by a stained glass depiction of the crucifixion, he is bathed in a colorful, angelic array. He strides towards you, covering the short distance in just a few clicks, and places his hand upon your shoulder. You’re led from the steps and down the aisle. It feels more like you’re being brought away for slaughter, a lamb primed for punishment.

“There is no doubt you are genuine in all that you do,” he notes, sliding his hand down your arm. Those slender, spidery digits curl into your woolen sleeve. “You are impartial and well-bred, a woman of impressive patience and virtue. Qualities of which arouse an admiration most potent.”

You know the rest of your convent is much the same, which is why it puzzles you that Father Flamme should praise your humble name in such a sickeningly fond manner.

“You are too kind, Father,” you acquiesce. “As a modest servant of God, it’s my pleasure to devote myself to Him, the church, my fellow sisters, and the community.”

“Hmm. A laudable outlook.” His lips quirk up in a smile. Strangely, it looks sharp and predatory. It does not reach his eyes.

Father Flamme steers you in the direction of another stained glass window. This scene is of The Resurrection of Christ. You gaze at His face and wonder if there truly is something up there, watching over the world’s sheep as they live out cyclical days in their pastures.

Immediately, you realize you should commit yourself to writing lines to chase that doubtful notion away.

Father Flamme rests his hand on your other arm to hold you in place. “A quote paraphrased from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter twenty-two, verses thirty-six through thirty-eight, if you’ll listen: ‘When asked which is the great commandment of all in the law, Jesus would reply, ‘You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment.’”

You nod mechanically, only half-listening. After observing you closely, he frowns.

“What troubles you, Sister?”

“It is hardly a burden worth shouldering. I assure you I’m of sound health. My recent habit of absence is most unbecoming of a sister. I should sooner confront the great shame of my actions than let it fester within.”

“There is still time to atone. You must seek counsel and, having taken it in your arms just as God embraces all, you will know forgiveness.”

You rest your hand upon Father Flamme’s, which has somehow found its home at your hip. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

He smiles that empty smile again. “If He is to provide for you, you must first lay yourself bare before him. I am no fool, Sister. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I have been truthful, Father. I would never lie under this sacred roof, nor would I have the gall to do so in your presence. It would be an offense so beastly I could not bear to let it weigh heavy on my heart.”

“Yet, rather than scorch your tongue with a dissolution of the truth, you evade the simplest of queries.” His fingers toy with the knots of your cincture. “What manner of tale will you spin to mystify me next?”

Reacting on instinct, you rip yourself from his immoral grasp. The nave is as silent as the grave, so stuffy it’s suffocating. Father Flamme narrows his eyes at you. His gaze cuts through you like blood swirling through the cracks in ice—like a scalding brand pressed onto flesh.

A thick tension blankets the air. You merely stare at him, and he levels you with the same calculating intensity. Both of you are searching the other’s face, hoping to find an explanation for such polar opposite behavior.

You’re courageous enough to break the quiet first.

“If it would please you, Father, I will graciously offer myself up for confession. There is no reason or need to circumvent the Lord.”

“Sister (Name), if you may spare the time, I entreat you to take a short stroll with me.” Before you can object, he offers his arm. “All children are lost lambs who will soon find their way when following the path illuminated by God’s brilliant light. You are no different. It is my duty to see that you are no longer led astray by temptation and the litany of filth propagated by the fiend.”

Sensing no other option, you link arms with him and subject yourself to his whims. “I’ve a frightful feeling. Most frightful indeed.”

“By all means, confide in God and trust that He will provide shelter. Under His sacred roof, He will lend an ear just as I am doing now.”

You inhale a steadying breath. At this moment, Father Flamme is all you have. In the depths of your heart, you’re aware he’ll never understand. He will never know the morbid secrets that dwell in darkened corners, swept expertly away. And if he knew, you would never be welcome in the church again. Your fellow sisters would certainly turn their noses up at you, loathing the sin of your very existence.

Even as you walk alongside the righteous bishop, you feel an overwhelming itchiness.

“Recent events have led me to believe—though I pray it isn’t true—that my heart has been possessed with a ghastly malady. Umbras waltz in my peripheral—no trick of the light, I assure!”

“Perhaps it is merely a case of wicked dreams?” he posits, leading you through the aisle like a father might accompany a bride on her wedding day. You shake your head insistently, and so he holds his hand up to soothe your frazzled disposition. “Peace, Sister. The songs of night are naught but whimsical folly weaved from the silk of zealous minds. You would do well to shake yourself free of their deceitful shroud.”

“I shall do so most ardently.”

“To rectify this trouble, might you consider attending evening mass? It can only do you good.”

You step up towards the altar, keeping pace with Father Flamme’s casual gait. “Oh, I couldn’t. As of late, I’ve felt uneasy in my solitude. I fear my shadow is not my own…”

His verdant eyes are so stark against the pallor of his face that it reminds you of coins placed over those of the dead. His arm slips away from your waist and, gathering your hands in his, he assesses you more carefully. Under the watchful stare of both Father Flamme and a crucified deity, you feel as if someone has taken a spoon to your soul and scraped it out. And then, for extra, unnecessary measure, they’ve flattened it out on a table for dissection in hopes of picking apart each of your dirtiest secrets.

“Oh? Do elucidate.”

Hazarding a glance at the cross situated grandly in multicolored glass, you lower your voice so as to not be heard by any outside parties. Paranoia grips you in a clenched fist.

“Something—what it may be, I could not begin to form ample conjecture—is hunting me.”

He does not grace you with a reply, and this only incenses the unrest bubbling within you.

“How say you, Father? What is it that causes me such nocturnal torment?”

His features are set in perfect neutrality; it’s impossible to glean any sort of emotion from the way he acts. He coaxes you closer, pulling you along towards the altar. 

“It is with great devastation that I must behold you as you are,” he says, breaking the suspense. “Tainted with the despicable sins of the world outside, young and promising as you are… I shall remedy that.”

You open your mouth to voice concern, but in one swift motion he shoves you against the altar. You land with a thud, your back colliding against sturdy mahogany. It happens in a flash, like the final expulsion of breath from your lungs in the wake of the end. He’s between your flailing legs, pushing you up and onto the cloth-covered surface. Brass candlesticks scatter in a haphazard clatter. Globs of wax bespatter stone floors.

In the quaint tranquility of the church, the struggle is louder than a newborn’s cry.

Your chest heaves in a panic. 

Gracious God above, I implore you—save me from this wretched devil!

Your pupils flit wildly, assessing every area within your range. There must be a means to escape! Above the ornate display, his head hung, your god looks on silently. He does not offer a whit of protection.

“Father—”

Frigid fingers crawl upon your legs like a flurry of scurrying rats. You blink up at him, helplessly hopeful.

He inhales a long, steadying breath and shuts his eyes. “God, have mercy. Have pity on this wayward soul. May she be cleansed beneath my fingertips, pure as freshly fallen snow, and may you forgive her every transgression.”

You sputter an incoherent noise.

He opens his eyes and smiles serenely. “Amen.”

Squirming beneath him, you resist his touch like it’s flickering flame. “Father, I beg of you… Quell your frustrations and release me at once. I am innocent.”

He sighs, unconvinced. “You are exquisitely venust, Sister. As sweet as the first buds of spring. You must know it is impossible for beauty to exist freely when there are fiends who wish to tarnish it—who will trample upon the virtuous garden in which you bloom and pluck you by the root, rough as barbarians. Thus, it is my duty to see that you are scrubbed of their detestable influence. May God pardon my iniquity.”

His hands slide up your calves beneath your habit. You watch, prickled with horror, as he parts your legs. 

“Belle chose, unfurl your petals so that we may make feet for children’s stockings.”

He leans over you, reaching to secure your wrists with one hand. The other climbs higher in its rapacious pursuit of a place most sacred. In the midst of your ferocious thrashing, you espy His divine eye once more.

I adjure you, Lord… Save me from this demon. You must. Please, Lord…

Silence. A haunting, engulfing silence. 

There is no salvation to be found beneath the cross. None for you, as it appears so disturbingly clear.

“Unhand me! Unhand me at once!” you snap, tearing your arm free. “You would allow yourself to fall lower than the ground you trod upon—to so flagrantly commit sacrilege in His hallowed home?!”

“It is not I who is to be scorned so. I am guiltless,” he sneers. But then he smooths his scowl into that of pristine, practiced patience, and he speaks in a soft, pitying tone. “Oh, Sister, you have allowed them to tip poison into your precious ears… Your perception is clouded with the cobwebs of that uncouth crowd.”

“To stand at his feet and reveal your malice in such a grotesque manner… You are no better than swine!”

“You shall see there is no better solace to be found than with me.” Tenderly, he fits his hand, cold and skeletal, in yours. “I shall shelter you from all that is cruel and unjust. You need only take my hand.” His fingers flicker at your inner thigh, waltzing in circles. His incessant petting sends a shudder wracking through your body. Paralyzed as you are, you recognize the monster lurking just beneath human flesh. A demented desire flashes in his eyes. You’ve never felt more lost. “And your sins shall be forgiven.”

Father Flamme leans down, chancing to catch the scent at your neck. You reach between your bodies, searching for the garter secured around your thigh, and unsheath the dagger from beneath your habit. It’s thrust at his throat, the sharpened edge pressed close enough to pierce through the collar of his alb and draw the slightest pinprick of blood. Clasping the ivory handle in a trembling fist, you face him with a fire burning in your fear-filled visage.

Perhaps it is his own disbelief that prompts the rattle in his chest—an ominous chuckle. 

“You are a bride of Christ, yet you dare turn a blade on me?”

“You’re a man of God, yet you besmear His holy name with the sin of your incorrigible lust?”

“You are mistaken, Sister.” He grabs hold of your fist with both hands and folds his fingers over yours in mock prayer. As if intending to stoke your ire, he tilts his head in taunt. “Let my blood run red on this altar and you shall know of my humanity.”

“Defile the Lamb of God and you are no shepherd but, rather, the wolf who adorns himself in woolen mendacity.”

Before he can utter a response, the doors burst open. Father Flamme releases your hand and climbs off of you, brushing the wrinkles from his robes. An icy gale claws at the interior, and with it two men arrive in a whirlwind rush.

“Your Excellency, forgive our intrusion!”

Your arm falls to your side and, with a mounting sense of defeat, you gaze at the ceiling. You don’t feel soothed, but you must compose yourself. And so, shoving your frenzied emotions to the side, you sheath your blade and scramble to make yourself presentable once your feet are back on the floor. Brightening at the sight of the two villagers, you cradle your rosary and pray silently.

Dear God, may you smite he who spreads abhorrent rot with his fingertips and, in witnessing a most magnificent death flail, gralloch him without mercy.

“Ah, gentlemen, what fortuitous timing,” Father Flamme greets them, smiling. “Do come in. I’ve a task for you, if you would be so inclined.”

You linger behind, cautious like a gare-fowl often is when at the receiving end of a hunter’s rifle.

“Your Excellency, you need only ask and we are at your service.”

“Before that, you must accompany us to the hogs,” the other interjects. “Death has soiled these grounds, Your Excellency. A sight so barbarous it forebodes only the worst! You must come—come and behold the infernal darkness which has cursed this village!”

Father Flamme glances between the both of them, assessing the urgency of the situation that has been so cryptically illustrated.

“As you have described, the present circumstances appear dire. Oh, but I do require your assistance before that, gentlemen. It shan’t be too arduous a task.” He turns on his heel and indicates you with an outstretched hand. “Sister (Name) totters at the precipice with her fickle faith. As it is my duty to ensure all are well in the arms of God, I must take…caution—you might say—in sorting such a sensitive matter.”

The men exchange bewildered looks.

“You imply…punishment, sir?”

“Nay, I think not!” you interrupt, striding forwards. You’re stopped by Father Flamme’s arm, held just in front of your chest to keep you in place. “Father, I am steadfast in my faith. I have—”

“If such were the truth, you would not speak nullifidian filth.”

Pushing past him, you plead with the men: “Sirs, he knots his tongue and utters dishonesty! You know of my virtue—my loyalty to Him. And of my father, who has provided comfort and care, the means by which I was raised into the woman you see before you, I am justly proud. As the daughter of (Last Name), I sicken with the thought of bringing dishonor to my father, my faith—all of which I hold true in my heart. Sirs, you must believe in—”

Father Flamme lifts his hand to silence you, but you’re aware of his cunning machinations. “I ask of you this, good sirs. When sailors set out at sea, do they allow themselves to fall prey to the song of the siren? Just as those wretched sea-beasts sing, so, too, does honey pour spoiled from the mouth of a sinner. Her words serve to chart a course for ill-founded temptation.”

“Sister, your virtue I do not question.” The villager addresses Father Flamme next, disregarding your presence entirely, as if you are naught but a worthless speck. “What shall we do, Your Excellency?”

A smile curls on his lips. “Take her to the tower just beyond the village. She shall remain in solitude for seven days. That shall provide her with ample time for contemplation.”

The men approach you without a hint of remorse on their lips. Cornered, you look to Father Flamme for guidance.

“Father, I beg of you—you mustn’t send me away! I shall repent! I shall do so before you now.”

“It serves me no satisfaction to subject you to solitary confinement.” He folds his hands in front of him and observes the spectacle of your resistance. “You have proven to me your doubt in the capabilities of the Lord. It is my right to correct your contumacious thoughts. I’m certain your father would share this sentiment. No daughter should empty her mind of His valuable teachings.”

“Do not speak as if you have dined with my father,” you hiss, wriggling in the firm hold of both men.

Father Flamme steps closer and smiles. “Let us away.” 

You are dragged, struggling all the while, out of the church and down the steps. There is a ferocious bite to this year’s autumnal weather. Father Flamme is gracious enough to drape his cloak over your shoulders just before you’re lifted onto a horse. He mounts his stallion and, with the crack of a whip, the four of you are off towards the decrepit tower at the rugged foothills of the mountains. No words are exchanged. You’ve said more than enough and you still remain the accused, guilty due to distorted logic.

The tower, which had once appeared so distantly out of your mind, gains striking clarity as you approach. You gaze helplessly at the man transporting you. He offers nothing of substance, his gaze focused squarely on the dirt footpath ahead.

When you were but a babe, the tower served as a warning for all children in the village: Those whose souls are stained with the sins of their atrocities shall wither away in silence.

There was once a raving madman who was imprisoned there in your youth. A heretic, he was called. Driven to his end, his sanity thin as a hair, he scraped at the walls and pulled loose bricks free until his fingernails cracked and blood trickled down his hands in rivers. When he had created a sizable opening for himself, at the peak of his derangement, he climbed out to meet the sun’s soft rays, a singular blessing owed for years of captivity. And then he threw himself from the tower, landing in a broken spattering at the very bottom.

In the years following, the tower housed numerous prisoners. It is a cold, unforgiving place, existing solely for the ugly and the crooked. And, now, the misunderstood. The wrongfully accused.

As you’re helped down from the horse, you ponder how many have been sent here to live out time for unfair accusations.

You’re joined by the second villager shortly, and they flank you like soldiers as they shove you along.

“Have you no sympathy, sirs!” you snap, shaking yourself from their grip. “To treat me so callously when my devotion is fervent and true! I am no fabulist.”

The men say nothing and amble onwards, pushing you closer to the tower. One of them attempts to seize your wrist; you evade him gracefully. Father Flamme observes your outright stubborn refusal and hums his disapproval.

“Unhand me! I’ll go of my own accord. I’ve feet for a reason, and thus they shall work as God intended. I need not the assistance of fools. My legs shall be the ones to carry me.” Punctuating that with an indignant huff, you stride ahead.

What brutish handling… These doltish fiends sit under the tree of knowledge and yet not a single fruit falls into their laps. To think this is how they would treat someone sworn to the church—and a lady, no less!

The latch is weather-worn, and it creaks a discordant note when lifted. You peek into the shadowed entrance and frown. Before you are subjected to the impatience of the men at your side, you step into the dimness. It is alight with the red-orange slivers of a setting sun.

“You shall wait here. I will accompany this misguided Sister to the very top. After which, we shall return to the village and I shall accompany you to the hogs.”

The men nod and stand at attention.

If you’re so dedicated to foolish play, you would be wise to salute, you think with a sardonic tut.

Father Flamme offers his arm. “Shall we?”

Ignoring his attempt at chivalry, you lift your habit so as to not trip on it and begin the lengthy ascent up the spiraling staircase. He chuckles and follows your lead. Every wooden step creaks under your weight. Something brushes your face—dust, perhaps. You swat at your face, grimacing. The scent of mold and rot clings to the bowels of this tower like maggots on a corpse, impossibly redolent in ways you shall avoid giving thought to.

I must not breathe so deeply, lest I wish to savor the taste of decay and bitter rage.

You carry on, ignoring the creeping revulsion and the stench of death as it clouds the air, accompanying you on your journey. A door waits for you at the top. You note it is without a lock.

“A bird will not fly in captivity,” Father Flamme advises, pushing it open to reveal a sparsely furnished room. It’s equipped with the essentials a common prisoner would need. You can’t help feeling less than human the moment you pass through the threshold.

It is enough of a sight to wear on my eyes and render them woefully sore.

He meets you at the door and offers an embroidered reticule. “I shall retrieve you in seven days’ time.”

You eye him dubiously and, upon sensing no additional malevolence, swipe the reticule from him. “May you rest guilty on your bed of lies.”

He leans in close, his voice as faint as a phantasm. “May you reflect on what it is you hold dear, for I assure you it is well within my reach.” He pivots and begins his descent, his footsteps tapping out a resounding rhythm. “You will learn a glorious lesson here. Treasure it as you would a child.”

Minutes later, the door below shuts and the latch is dropped into place. The noise races up the stone spiral in echo, filling your ears with its haunting reverberation.

Now you’re truly alone.

“How boorish he must be to condemn me to this prison!” You slam the door in your anger and drop the reticule onto the bed. In an effort of appraisal, you feel the lumpy mattress. It’s packed full of straw. “I am not nameless, nor am I a harlot. Yet I am gifted the opulence of peasants. I can scarcely accept such generosity.”

Alas, this is your new misfortune.

To busy your idle hands, you open the reticule and peer inside at its contents. A thumb Bible rests beside a bulk of misshapen cloth. Gingerly, you unwrap it to find bread, cheese, and salt pork. Somehow—and you have every right to be fastidious—you doubt this modest portion will be enough for seven days.

“And not a drop of water!” you announce to the empty room. “He has an astounding amount of faith in me if he thinks I will surrender so simply. One day he shall get his gruel. I’ll make sure of it.”

Until then you will never know peace.

Bundling the rations, you place them within the reticule alongside the Bible. Perhaps you should have requested writing implements or a book—anything to preclude the impending accidie. 

Beyond the window, which is sized perfectly for the smallest bird, the sun disappears below the horizon. Ink spills across the sky, darkening the surroundings outside the tower and leaving room for stars to speckle the vastness. You sit at the edge of the bed and wrap your fingers around your rosary.

“Dear God, you know I am faultless and so I ask that you guide me in understanding your ways. Father Flamme speaks of protection in your home and yet when danger is knocking you are not there to answer.” You tug anxiously at the beads. “If you are there, show me… Show me that you hear my prayers. Show me that I am not alone. That even I, imperfect as I may be, am deserving of your sanctuary and forgiveness. Amen.”

Shrugging the cloak off, you fold it into a neat square and set it at the end of the bed. Your veil and coif are next to go, and you take immense care in handling both. You slide your dagger out of its sheath and set it on the bed. The night is cool and so you resolve to remain dressed as you are, in your robes and chemise.

“I will endure these seven days. Each one, night and day, I will be strong. My faith will never falter. I will never waver,” you whisper, repeating this oath like a mantra. You settle into bed, sparing a final glance at the square cut into the brickwork, where a starry sky wraps the world in a celestial counterpane. “Perhaps then you might acknowledge me.”

Clutching the rosary close to your chest, comforted with the weapon at your side, you drift into dreamless slumber.

[sim0nril3y]

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon hasn't been able to stop thinking about your relationship and how not making a commitment to you might lead you to running off with someone else. He needs to solve this.

Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), suggestive thoughts, canon-typical swearing.

It was strange to Simon that the two of you had settled into routine together. Most nights he’d pick you up after finishing work, he’d bring you back to his home or drop you off at your flat. More often than not Simon would cook you some good food to fill up your empty tummy, then roll around in the sheets together. The next morning you’d wake up beside him and he’d set to making you a hearty breakfast and discuss plans for the days. Those plans typically of doing exactly what you’d done the day before, spending time together and… though he’d never say it aloud Simon enjoyed it, he looked forward to it.

There was the times when Simon was left feeling lonely because you weren’t around. It was when he wouldn’t see you from one day to the next because you were busy working on an art project or work had left you exhausted. Simon was a solitary person, not needing or even wanting other people around him, or… at least that was how he’d felt before meeting you.

So, what was this? A question that Simon had never asked himself before, but now it was burning inside of him. Never before had Simon desired clarification, but as it currently stood you were just two people living independent lives that slept with each other and spent time together. That left opportunity for you to find someone else and bring them into your life. He hoped that wasn’t the case, it certainly wasn’t something you’d mentioned before but it still left that door open for someone to take you from him.

The thought of losing you filled him with utter dread. How was he supposed to sleep at night with your body to curl around? He’d started buying extra food when doing his weekly shop, who was going to help him eat it all? Plus, all your favourite snacks were filling the cupboards, if you weren’t here then they’d just go to waste… Besides, there wasn’t another living soul out there that would be able to make you fall apart as quick as he could.

Bloody hell. He was in deep here.

That night after a long shift at work you were curled up beside him on the sofa, blanket draped over your legs, snacks between your lounging bodies and eyes fixed on whatever dumb show you’d thrown on the TV. You hadn’t seemed to notice that from beside you Simone was stewing silently, mind racing with how to broach the subject in the most subtle way.

These questions and that anxiety was beginning to build up inside of Simon, his knee was bobbing relentlessly, muscles wound tight, fingers tapping furiously against the arm of the sofa like a metronome. How was he going to do this? How was he going to ask for clarification on what you were to each other? What did he actually hope the answer was going to be? He wanted you, right? Only you. He didn’t want another living soul to have you… fuck, the thought of someone else having their hands and their lips on you. It made him seethe.

“What are we?” The question tumbled from his lips, short and frustrated. It caused you to look up at him, brows furrowed. “Sorry?” “You… do you ever do this with anyone else?” He looked down at you through intense dark eyes. “Do I… watch TV with other people?” You questioned, almost not following his line of questions.

Further frustrated Simon bit out. “Do you fuck anyone else?” That made you begin to fight a little smile, finally figure out what he was trying to ask. “And the rest of it… everything we do together… like going for walks, or to dinner… or just watching TV like this…” He gestured to the way you were lounging so comfortably behind him, sans any make-up and looking so relaxed. “Do you?” Simon asked, you simply smirked as you flitted you gaze back towards the TV and muttered easily. “Would it bother you if I did?”

This question only made him stew and simmer again at the thought of someone else being in your life like this. The thought of them kidding and making you fall apart only mad his anger bubble further. “Mm.” He grumbled out, keep his dangerous eyes locked on you.

Reaching across to rest a delicate hand on his tattooed forearm you mentioned softly. “I don’t do this with anyone else, Si.” You informed him, watching the tension leaving him body in that moment. “Only you.” You quip with a little shrug of your shoulders, before continuing. “If I’m not here with you then I’m at work and I’m wishing that I was here with you or counting down the minutes until I’m going to see you again or wildly ignoring all of tasks and remembering all my time with you.” There was vulnerability to your tone as you informed him that. “Then I see you and I’m happy in all those hours before I’m back to being on my own and wishing it’ll happen all over again.”

You were in deep too. With the way that Simon was looking at you, you could have been convinced that there wasn’t anyone else in the world. “Simon, are you trying to ask me something?” Reaching up you brushed your fingers against his face delicately before following with a gentle few kisses against his cheeks and temples and jawline. Every action made forced his body to relax, coaxing his anxiety away before finally the words came. “What if… we did do this everyday? Just… us two…”

You gnawed your lower lip. “I could get behind that.” You agreed with a tiny shrug of your shoulders. “So… if we did do this… what would I call you?” You quirked a brow at him. “My boyfriend?” Simon grimaced. “Love, I’m not a boy.” He muttered, snatching some of your snacks and beginning to munch away. “How about my lover?” You purred playfully and once again Simon groan and threw you a look. “So… just my Simon?” You raised your brows at him, this time he didn’t seem to fight your suggestion, simply smirked.

“Mm…” Then he nodded, much to your surprise. “And you’d be mine.” It was like your heart exploded in your chest, smiling at him and trying not to act overly excited and frighten him off. “I guess I would be~” Then leaning forward you kissed a couple sweet kisses. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Not moving too fast?” You ask, concerned that Simon might change his mind all of a sudden and end up hurting you both. “M’sure, babe.” He responded, pressing a sweet kiss to your nose. "You're mine."

Masterlist | Ask | 29-01-2024

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Energy Check~ for wherever you are right now

This was completely unplanned but frankly spirit doesn't give a fuck about my plans. So if this found you, here are some messages you probably need right now-

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pile 1: Ooh.. as I was preparing to start your reading, I saw 11:11 as the Chariot card showed up for you. This. Tells me that you are pretty strongly connected to your divine path right now, which simply means that you're doing something that's keeping you in alignment, sweet pile one! Good job! Keep going down this road because you WILL stumble upon amazing experiences and people! This message is coming through quite strongly. Now, isn't that lovely? Hehe.

Here's the thing, though.. Although you're actually IN alignment with your greatest timeline and life, you seem to be completely UNAWARE of the fact! You might be going through the necessary purging emotionally and/or mentally as a result of this alignment since the "old stuff" has no more room in your new vibration anymore. So, you've probably had to go through some intense endings and/or tower moments in life lately and THIS has left you feeling really, really sad. Maybe even depressed. For some of you, if that's the case, please seek help, sweet soul. It doesn't have to be therapy but even as simple as talking to a trusted loved one, you know? Or even journaling about it could help if you're into it. It seems like you could use a new perspective on the things you're going through right now. I'm sensing that you might be feeling emotionally numb right now too, but that's because you've been doing a lot of emotional processing lately AND IT'S ALL PAYING OFF. I just need you to know that. You just can't see it right now because you're slap dead in the middle of the storm, and I'm looking at it from a bird's eye view, you know?

While you're purging old stuff, I also see you making your way through an old core belief - "I gotta work hard to be deserving of anything because I inherently don't" Or something along those lines. You may have started purging this belief as a result of life showing you that it's simply not something worth keeping alive inside you. Maybe recently, you caught yourself overworking yourself to death only to receive very little in return (in any area of your life - relationships included) and this experience helped you wake up to this unhelpful belief of yours. You're unlearning this belief as we speak. It's not easy though, but I CAN assure you, you're acing it.

If you find yourself worrying too much about anything and everything or simply feeling a general fear, just know that it's a normal reaction to having things uprooted in your life. Life, right now, is asking you to do your best to focus on what's right in front of you because if you do this, the future is guaranteed to sort itself out. I promise.

I love you so much, pile 1. I see all your hard work and am rooting for you SO hard, bro. Love and light.

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Pile 2: Seems like to me that y'all have been STUCK in a particular pattern for a while now, maybe years? For some of you folks reading? Let me spell it out for you what this pattern looks like to me - an imbalance of the mind and heart. Too much mind and too little heart. Maybe none at all.

I can't seem to tap into the root of this imbalance, maybe because it's different for each of you reading, OR maybe it's not relevant to us right now because you can simply begin to address this imbalance as you see it in your day-to-day. But I sense that you're really good at addressing things, so once you're conscious of this pattern going on subtly in the background, running your life, you can really do something about this. This pattern may show up as you struggling with feeling fear, and this is blocking you off to one very important thing fear is here to show us, and that is how to support ourselves. If we are afraid of something we desire and have a healthy relationship with fear, we go for the desire while caretaking our fear. I read a quote the other day, it said "Do that thing you love but if you find that you're scared, then go do it scared." The point I'm trying to make is, fear isn't going to go away on its own, it's you who will simply expand your ability to hold space for it AND your desires equally. When you figure out how to do this, magic will happen in your life. You'll find that your unwillingness to caretake your fear only gave you more things to be afraid of (because, hello, Law Of Attraction *lol*), BUT you'll also find that when you radically start taking responsibility for your fear(s), you'll be able to act from a wiser space and be your full badass self. You'll find that there are so many things you CAN do and so much life you CAN live. Everything you've wanted to start doing in life will start to happen almost seamlessly. It WILL surprise you big time. You're currently making your way through an important part of your healing, and that is to hold yourself in all your glory. To hold all parts of yourself, even the ones that are scared shitless. Once you've integrated this segment of your healing, SO many doors will unlock for you. Sweet soul, you have no clue of JUST HOW MANY. And this… is probably because you manifest with your heart primarily (meaning you feel things deeply and so you unknowingly tap into the frequency of what you want easily) and your fear is keeping you stuck in your head, which means you're only 40% of the full You right now, PRIOR the healing of c. You might even feel it sometimes. You might feel like you're only a shell of a person (been there myself, you're not alone in this!). Listen to that feeling. Your truth lies in there. You're meant to be the 100% you, and I see that you're already halfway there!

I love you so much, pile 2, sending you so much light and love. Hope you find the resources you need to make it through to your new life where you live in more love than fear.

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Pile 3: Man… y'all been fighting for your lives, huh? I see that you may be in the midst of a lot of divinely evoked darkness? Lol, I literally heard that - divinely evoked darkness. Maybe you're going through a dark night of the soul, perhaps? Whatever your're going through though, it seems like you've been hanging on for dear life.

Some good news for you- no matter the circumstances you're in right now (be it good, bad, or terrible), you've been doing all the work necessary to keep your head above water and have been diligently nurturing your own light, positivity, and essence. THAT'S incredible resilience, sweet pile 3, and I'm really proud of you! It's not easy to keep an open heart through bad times, and that's such a grand achievement in my eyes. UGH, BEAUTIFUL.

Your energy SCREAMS transition period vibes. You seem to be neither in your "old" timeline nor in the new one yet. You're sorta hanging in the middle right now. I see the Hanged Man in the third eye as I tell you this. Feels like you're in the void right now, and things just seem… bleh. Boring. Colorless. This is probably because you're already done with the ugly part of the process, "the divine shakeups", the loss, and the purge. Think… the bland but peaceful feeling you feel after having an intense ugly crying session, you know? Yeah, you're energetically there right now. You'll probably be here for a while longer because you've let go of MAJOR stuff, pile 3. Did you let go of people recently, maybe? Or that old bad habit, perhaps? That was the purge, so to speak. And now you're in the aftermath of it all, the uncomfortable but necessary calm.

-Side note: You might've struggled to embody your divine feminine earlier, but the timeline you're entering right now is the exact opposite of that. You might be attracted towards things that will help you nurture your own divine feminine right now. Give into it. Nurture patience, stillness, and compassion for self. It will HOPEFULLY speed up the void period if you consciously take part in it, you know?-

You're quite emotionally intelligent, and it has guided you throughout the whole process, and it also seems like it ain't your first rodeo in the process of proverbial death and rebirth. Good on you because you're doing a real good job keeping your calm through venturing into the unknown. You know what? You remind me of Elsa from Frozen, taking on the unknown like it belongs to her. You are such a queen, omg.

Yep, all that's left to do now is celebrate yourself, pile 3! Try your best to embrace this period, the void, and you'll be on your way to your next happy adventure! Love and light, sweet soul. Thanks for sharing your energy with me today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[kyu-piddy]

The mark of a soulmate

Small drabbles about meeting your soulmate.

Gn reader x Silver, Rook, Trey, Sebek, Kalim

Tw: None

2.5k words

Soulmates. A strange concept to you, but not to the residents of this strange world. Will you find yours?

When you came through that mirror, to this strange place of Twisted wonderland, you could feel a sting on your wrist. A small pain, like a sting of a needle, and then it was gone. When you had looked down at it, you had seen an intricate design. Curious about it, you asked the headmage.

“That is the mark of a soulmate! My, are they not common where you’re from?”

You shook your head.

“Not to worry. I’ll explain it to you, for I am so kind.”

“That mark is proof that out there, there is someone who is your other half. Their soul and yours complements each other in a way that no one else can. Meeting them will make you love the world just because it has them in it. Some people have multiple soulmates, others have platonic soulmates, but the most common is a romantic soulmate, and looking from your mark, it seems you have a romantic soulmate, and they’re rather close by. The mark gets darker and more defined the closer you are to them.”

With so much information, you could feel your head spinning. A soulmate? Such a thing really existed in this strange world you had been thrust upon by a dark carriage? 

You stared at the headmage with a confused expression.

“Oh, you doubt me! How can you think that of your headmaster?”

You sighed.

“But how would I even know who my soulmate is?”

“You’ll feel it.”

“Feel it?”

The headmaster nodded.

“You’ll feel something pulling at your heart. Like a string.”

It all still felt like bogus to you, but who were you to deny his words? In a world filled with magic and talking animals, soulmates wasn’t such a strange concept.

“A soulmate, uh? I can worry about that later. It’s not like I’ll meet them any time soon, even if they are close by. This campus is massive.”

Silver

The mark on your wrist was a beautiful sword, glimmering silver enveloped by roses and their thorns, but they weren’t menacing, more like a protection to the splendor of the weapon.

Being in this strange new world was stressful. You didn’t know any of the material in class or had any street smarts. You were a stranger in a strange land, and everyday felt like a fight to stay afloat and not lose yourself in the unknown.

It all felt so overwhelming, that you couldn’t help but run into a remote place and hide under a tree, tears streaming down your face, hiccups assaulting your body.

A gentle tap on your shoulder made your head shoot up.

You locked eyes with a beautiful silver haired stranger, his kind purple gaze making you want to cry even more.

“Are you alright?”

He asked, a voice so soft and soothing, you broke into tears again. 

You wailed and wailed and the stranger remained in place, his comforting hand stroking your shoulder until all your tears dried up and you just hiccuped like a child who just had a tantrum.

You finally felt calmer, but embarrassment was settling in.

“It’s going to be okay.” said the stranger, his sweet voice resonating through your head and making any embarrassment die down.

Looking at his eyes again, now calmer than before, you could feel something. A gentle tug, a pull from your… heart?

Your eyes widened. According to the headmaster, this meant that this guy was your soulmate.

As if he could read your mind, he murmured:

“I think we might be soulmates.”

You tried to speak, but instead a hiccup left your mouth.

The stranger put a hand in his pocket and took out a white handkerchief, using it to gently dab at your eyes.

“Do not cry, soulmate. It will be alright. I’m here for you.”

And he smiled. A smile so soft it felt criminal to be the cause of it.

Your hiccups finally settled, you thanked him.

“Thank you, …?”

“Silver. My name is Silver.”

Rook 

The mark on your wrist was of a bow and arrow, poised to hit its mark with staggering accuracy, but more in the way a Cupid would hit its mark, a piercing of the soul and not of the flesh.

For the first time since you had come to NRC, you had Crowley's permission to head to the local town in this mysterious isle.

You had missed the hustle and bustle of strangers of different ages, of being a face in a crowd with no connection, even if at every turn you could spot the tell tale uniform of NRC.

Wandering through the town, starry-eyed and distracted, you tripped on someone’s foot and fell,  grabbing onto them and making them fall too.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

You quickly got up and offered him a hand, but he refused, getting up on his own.

“You dirtied my uniform shirt!!” he screamed at you, a frown etched onto his features.

From the color of his vest and his peerless complexion, you knew he was a Pomefiore student.

“I’m really sorry. I’ll clean it-”

He looked you up and down and sneered.

“I should have noticed immediately. You’re the magicless half a student of that rundown dorm. No need for you to touch my uniform. Your filthy hands will only dirty it further.”

Rage filled you to the brim, and you were about to give him a piece of your mind, when an arrow passed through you both and landed on his vest, right above his shoulder.

“What do we have here? An altercation between our Trickster and Monsieur étudiant? What seems to be the problem?”

A man spoke from behind you, his voice close to your ear.

The student in front of you turned as pale as a ghost.

“Vice-house warden Rook! T-t-there’s no problem! None at all! I was actually leaving to take care of my dirty uniform!”

He scurried away, not even looking back.

“What a difficile Monsieur. Such cruel words for something so little.”

You turned back, seeing a blond man with a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, a gentle smile decorating his sharp features.

“Thank you for saving me. He was being really horrible for no reason.”

He reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and you felt your heart pulse erratically beat in your chest.

“Non, non. It was my pleasure to save you, soulmate.”

Trey

The mark on your wrist was of a playing card, three green clovers dotting its white space, comfortably in each place, pieces of a puzzle missing a hidden piece, to be found by itself and no one else.

The campus of NRC was a truly gigantic thing. It felt so labyrinthic, paths and more paths crossing with each other and becoming one or diverging into many, butterfly wings of concrete and bricks.

Getting to each class felt like a wild expedition. Where would each corridor lead you next?

You mostly relied on asking others, but in a school full of villains not many would tell you the way, or worse, not many would tell you the right way.

You stared at the edge of a corridor, no path to “turn left” like that student from Scarabia had told you.

Frustration bubbled inside you and rose up, small tears threatening to slip from your eyes, but you held strong, and kept them trapped.

You turned back around and started your scavenge for your classroom again, tracing your steps to the entrance of the school building.

You counted each step in your mind, walking backwards but sometimes looking back to make sure you were going the right way.

You didn’t even register the change in the deafening silence around you, so concentrated you were.

A pair of steps became two, and as you were about to look back, your face collided with a wall covered in fabric.

You exhaled a quick “ow”, pinching your sore nose, closed eyes watery.

“That was quite the hit. Do you need some ice?” asked the wall.

Opening said watery eyes revealed that the wall was in fact, a person.

A tall man, green hair and glasses and a worried expression.

His worry for you made you feel strangely happy.

“I don’t think I need it, but thank you. Oh! But I do need your help with something else.”

You scrambled to explain to him your problem.

“Ah, so you need to go to animal linguistics class. It’s really close by. I can take you there.”

His smile was so mature, it made you feel like you could rely on him for anything. He couldn’t be lying.

“Thank you so much, senpai!” 

Giving him your brightest smile, you followed after him, your heart soaring with happiness, the mark on your wrist so defined it looked like a fresh tattoo.

He’d let you notice it for yourself.

Sebek

The mark on your wrist was of a crocodile curled around a beautiful dark rose, its piercing gaze and ferocious fangs turned to any who dare harm it, but rather than animalistic, it felt noble, like a knight protecting its liege.

The horses of the equestrian club were magnificent things, varied coats and manes and tempers, all in (sometimes not so) clean packages.

You liked observing them, their manes floating in the wind, some of them unruly, some of them as docile as a house cat, as their riders took them around and around the race track, perfecting their skills as you watched from afar.

But curiosity had gotten the best of you one day, and you decided to approach the stables.

Sneaking in right after practice, the tired horses were resting on their wooden homes, the smell of hay and horse dung infiltrating your nostrils and making you gag, but you were already here, so why stop now?

You didn’t dare to approach too much, but being this close to them made you feel better. Even in this weird magical place, some things were the same.

A loud sound came from behind you, and you felt yourself freeze. The main door to the stable had opened.

Louder than the first sound, a voice yelled from behind you.

“WHO IS THERE? NO ONE IS ALLOWED IN THE HORSE STABLES AFTER PRACTICE!”

You slowly turned around, coming face to face with a tall light green haired man, his expression serious, frightening and yet also ethereal.

“I’m really sorry! I know I shouldn’t be here, but I got really curious and really wanted to see the horses.” you explained.

“THAT IS NO EXCUSE! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN SEVERELY HURT, HUMAN.”

Even though he had approached you, he was still screaming loudly, making you flinch.

The horses didn’t seem to mind, perhaps used to his booming voice.

His tone wasn’t the nicest, but it didn't feel mean either. It was a strange mixture of emotions that neither of you were entirely sure of.

“You’re correct. I sincerely apologize.”

He kept his hardened posture and gaze, but an almost imperceptible twinkle in his eye told you that he appreciated the apology.

“IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE THE HORSES, YOU NEED TO ASK TO BE ACCOMPANIED BY A MEMBER OF THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB. AS A GUARD OF LORD MALLEUS AND A MEMBER OF THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB, I WILL DO MY DUTY AS BEFITTING OF ONE OF HIS KNIGHTS AND ACCOMPANY YOU IF YOU SO WISH.”

That was unexpected. The screaming, lightning eyebrowed boy that had the expression of someone with extreme constipation wished to accompany you. What a strange and wonderful thing.

“Then, Knight of Lord Malleus, I accept your offer. Next time you’ll have to show me around the stables and let me meet all the horses.”

You gave him your brightest smile, and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink.

In the dim light of the stable, neither noticed the intricate design on their wrist become fully inked, its splendor in full bloom.

Kalim 

The mark on your wrist was of a beautiful exotic carpet, gold, red and purple thread intermingled to create an embroidered tapestry, who instead of laying flat or being rolled on its side, looked ready to soar into the sun. 

Potions class always made you feel like some sort of ancient magic bearer, living by a bog and making frog stew.

It simultaneously felt mindless and stimulating, being so precise with temperature and ingredients and color of the potion but also mandating that you stir a pot for 10 minutes while looking for a color change from burgundy to pale red.

It all took ages to perfect, and a second to explode on your face.

You stirred the pot, your mind already outside of the classroom and in the lunchroom, boredom and hunger fueling daydreams of snacks.

You almost even wished for something to explode, just so you wouldn’t be as bored out of your mind.

Like the universe had read your mind, a loud thwack echoed from the window beside you, scaring you out of your mind, your arm moving on its own and accidentally elbowing your cauldron, the whole thing spilling on the floor, a goey slippery mess of red and chopped ingredients.

From the other side of the room, Professor Crewel gave you a look that said it all.

A thorough scolding later, and your after class lunchroom plans were dashed, as the bubbling mess of a potion on the floor was your mess to clean.

You sighed, but armed with a mop and some cleaning solution, you’d deal with it.

Looking at the window that had started it all, your eyes widened, seeing what you assumed to be the perpetrator of the loud sound still there waving at you.

It was some sort of a rug? And it was waving at you? But the strangest part of it all, is that you felt like you recognized this rug, like one recognizes a friend lost in a crowd.

You stared back down at the spilled potion, wondering if in its liquid state it caused some sort of hallucinations.

Your contemplations of your state of mind were interrupted by the door to the classroom loudly opening, and someone exclaiming:

“Found you!”

Turning back, you saw a silver haired youth barreling towards you and the spilled potion.

“Wait, watch out-“ you warned, but it was too late, as the young man was already with one foot on the puddle and the other in the air, his body directly projected towards you.

“waaaAAAAAHHH” he screamed as he fell on you, squishing you against the ground.

He quickly got on his elbows, looking down on you with an easy going smile.

“Oh, hi there! Sorry for falling on you. But my carpet flew away and Jamil would be super mad if he found out so I’ve been searching for it everywhere.”

You blinked slowly, the whole situation feeling like a fever dream.

You should be more appalled at whatever just happened, but seeing this stranger's smiling face made you feel soft.

Everything dictated that he should get off of you, but strangely you didn’t want him too.

A light turned on in your head, and you peaked at your wrist, the once slightly faded mark a vibrant work of art, like a freshly painted portrait.

Your eyes met the smiling strangers' red ones, and you smiled back at him.

“I think I already found the carpet.”

[clairdelunelove]

around the clock

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (working drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, handyman!ghost

synopsis: ghost finds comfort in always being busy, whether that'd be completing household maintenance or chores but what does he do when there's nothing else to fix? well, it's simple, he goes over to your place–

a.n. hi lovelies! life's been picking up BUT it's finally spooky season! 🕷 pls take handyman!ghost to compensate for the fact that I dropped off the face of the earth for a bit <3

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ghost would definitely have the characteristics of being a handyman– specifically, yours.

-

paid leave was a valuable but rare benefit that many military personnel took advantage of. traveling, relaxing, or staying with family were typically on the itinerary for most. to catch up on lost time. to ground and comfort them with the humanity that they might’ve forgotten about while on the battlefield. a solace for their minds, souls, and hearts to rest. service members could request leave at any time, fortunately, but ghost never had a reason to. he found comfort in being constantly busy. proved to be less on the mind. an escape from the pain that frequents him whenever he opens his eyes and follows him into his sleepless nights. he recalls price mentioning his unhealthy coping mechanism– the word ‘escapism’ leaving his lips in a sympathetic grimace. a sensitive emotion that reached the captain’s eyes and caused ghost to uncomfortably shuffle on his feet. he wouldn’t label it as ‘escapism,’ per se, just favors his hectic life. so when he chooses is forced to take his paid leave, ghost keeps himself active; repairing his plumbing system, fixing broken light fixtures, or testing any of his home appliances to ensure they’re working properly. he’s continually restless. likes strenuous and taxing work. makes it easier to fall asleep at the end of the day. and, by the off chance there’s absolutely nothing left to maintain in his compact flat (because a couple bare rooms, small porch, and no backyard is hardly a feat to clean), he’ll sit on his threadbare couch. might tap his fingers against his thigh while the living room clock obnoxiously ticks. the silence is deafening, ironically. his heavy-set eyes float to glance at the time and upon noticing this is the predicament he’ll be in for a couple more weeks, he abruptly gets up, pockets his keys, and makes his way to you.  

ghost who stiffly stands at your front door when you answer the familiar knock. frankly, you’ve noticed the way he knocks on your door is strikingly different than how he does on missions. a strong rap but not powerful enough to scare you. it’s a sign that’s irrevocably him. served as an indication of his presence. it was up to you whether you wished to entertain his trivial inquiries. you peep your head out first, not quite believing the sight before you, and he raises a brow at your widened eyes. “simon?” you ask incredulously. his plain balaclava shifts when he catches how you intuitively open the door wider for him. to make room for him in your home. “remembered you asked about patchin’ and paintin’ your walls,” he explains like it’s ordinary to recall a conversation from weeks ago. astonishingly, he was right. you had, offhandedly, mentioned that you nailed picture frames to the wall which created noticeable holes that you didn’t know how to fix. you reminisce at how he held back an amused scoff when you emphasized that it was an honest mistake on your part. didn’t entirely think it likely that he’d personally fix it. “oh,” you glance at the rather large toolbox in his hand as your voice trails off, “like, you want to fix it right now?” he offers a singular nod as a response.  

ghost who’s a second away from packing up his home repair tools/gadgets and heading back home when you glance behind you to stare at your place in contemplation. your lower lip caught in-between your teeth. he hesitates. isn’t accustomed to the sensation even when he has a weapon in his grasp. his mind whirs. the green-eyed monster of jealousy bleeding its way into his heart. “unless,” he dreads the words before they leave his lips, “you have a bloke to help ya with it?” his words are stiff. ghost shifts to lean against your doorframe in an attempt to ease off the bitterness in his voice. drawn to the movement, you can’t help but become aware of how he fills the entire entryway with his physique. your cheeks burn. a quick shake of your head followed by a resounding, “no, I don’t and I haven’t called a handyman either.” and it’s the perfect remedy to quell his discontent. his rigid posture loosens with the answer. while you step to the side to welcome him in, you hurriedly clarify with an awkward laugh, “had to think for a bit because I didn’t want you to see how much of a slob I am,” and hope that the joke lands. the universally polite comment to excuse the untidiness. ghost isn’t focused on the clutter, however. he’s basking in the fact that you’re not seeing anyone. offhandedly throws in a murmur of, “not a problem, sweetheart,” when he eases by you. and the way it borders raspy satisfaction reduces you to a puddle. 

ghost who allows his gaze to wander to your decorated walls and dainty furniture while you explain where the tactless gaps in the walls were at. picture frames encasing friends and family were thoughtfully tacked onto the walls. trinkets lined the shelves to serve as memoirs. he stops himself from reaching up and picking one up for closer inspection. wouldn’t be fair if he did. truth be told, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d put up a photograph in his own flat. his loved ones and comrades stayed etched in his mind. recurrent and persistent. your place, on the other hand, seems well-inhabited, lived-in, and loved. he could almost spot the glow that you managed to sprinkle everywhere you went regardless of the situation. a feature that endlessly puzzled him. the addictive familiarity that accompanied you and made every place feel like home. ghost likes it. it’s comfy and cozy– you. and his mind slips into the possibility of adding a few pieces of him in your home. his work boots at the front door. his toothbrush residing beside yours in the bathroom. his shirt in your closet. “need any tools to help fix the damage I made?” your witticism forces him out of his train of thought. halts the delusion from straying too far. he’s quick to recover, however, and murmurs, “got everythin’ I need here,” while his eyes are solely fixed on you. a declaration that’s spoken as profound as a pass of thunder. and you wait with bated breath, mind whirring to reciprocate the sentiment but ghost is already trekking past you. he gets to work almost immediately by using a putty knife and a joint compound to patch up the holes in the walls. but goodness– his eyes. the raw dedication that manifests and bleeds out when he glances over to you. his words are a certainty that he grasps onto. 

ghost who, unsurprisingly, fixes the blunders in the walls with ease. it’s a minor task that’s covered with a gentle hand and some paint. nothing that he can’t fix. but truthfully, the afternoon passes far quicker than usual. with fleeting smiles and stolen glances whenever his focus shifted to you. it was spotting your figure, halfway hidden behind the kitchen entryway, from the corner of his eyes. it was finding you tampering with his tools whenever his back was turned and hearing your soft laughter when he halfheartedly chided your roaming hands. a serenity disguised as a luxury that ghost could never afford. “want to hear a construction joke?” your voice fills the house; he prefers it that way. yet, your inquiry falls flat because he’s short-circuiting. with a hand on his shoulder, you lean forward to inspect the spot that he’s working on. forces the two of you closer. your breath is a hot puff against the shell of his ear and he visibly pauses. you’re warm. he turns his head sideways, purposefully staring ahead, and decides to indulge you, “sure.” “hm,” you hum and the pleasant noise goes straight through him, “I’m still working on it.” and when you’re rewarded with an amused huff from his lips due to the punchline, a grin stretches across your face. it’s a meager detail that he imagines as he trudged back (with heavy feet) to his bare flat later that evening. yet, it’s the only solace that allows him to sleep a little easier that night.  

ghost who questions his rationale when he’s hauling his lawnmower and other tools onto the back of his pickup truck just for you. well, he supposes you never did ask him to mow your lawn but your front yard is in need of his care. his personal touch. afterall there were various benefits of keeping a lawn clean and tidy. encourages new grass growth and deters pests– or so he justifies. surely it’s not due to the appreciative smile you throw him when you tug your curtains back to find him trimming the edge of the grass. he hears the click of the window opening before your voice calls out to him, “you didn’t need to, si!” but ghost has never given half an effort to seek your favor. lives his life in extremes. so he spares you a glance while genuine words leak from his mouth that he attempts to mask in his surly voice, “jus’ wanted to.” and hastily wretches the starter cord on the lawnmower so it roars to life. pretends not to catch onto your longing stares when the sun’s rays are scorching and he’s compelled to shed a couple layers off. sure, you had tasks at hand rather than blatantly gawking but it could wait. and he didn’t particularly mind the attention. especially when you’re seated by the window so prettily with your face perched atop your hand. admiration pooling in your wide eyes. you watch with bated breath as he one-handedly tugs off his bulky sweater to reveal a fitted black shirt and dirty jeans. a combination that has you visibly gulping as he continues pushing the machine across the lawn. he’s a tantalizing brew of brawn and power. a darkness that you wish to traverse upon. satiates you with a knowing look when he stretches and the fabric of his shirt is pulled taunt across his broad chest. and he huffs in delight when you hurriedly reach out to yank the curtains closed. 

ghost who picks you flowers (weeds) but doesn’t know the difference. he ends up discovering a clump of golden dandelions growing near the edge of your fence and decided to pluck them. pinches the stems in between his fingers until it breaks. ends up harvesting a handful of them. the question is: what does he do with them? he saunters over to your front door, raps his knuckles against it, and patiently waits for you to answer. of course. then, he hands the dandelions to you, unblinking but brimming with good intentions. because he’s not aware that dandelions are the most notorious weeds that many desire to get rid of. just acknowledges that they’re pretty and you’re pretty– so it only makes sense. another gift for you. anything for you. he watches as you absentmindedly twirl the stems in your grasp, speechless. and, without warning, he’s flushed for a reason far beyond just the weather. a terrible queasiness that was unlike any he’s experienced. his mannerisms are fidgety, mind itching to leave, and save him the humiliation of offering you weeds. but then your lips break into a wide smile. a dazzling one. knocks the breath out of his lungs. you’re uttering repeated ‘thank you’s’ though, clearly too distracted to notice his predicament, before scurrying into your kitchen. he’s left stunned while you call out, “how did you know I have a pretty vase to match with these?” 

ghost who’s knocking at your door in the early mornings, greets you with a gruff, “mornin’,” and slinks past you into your home. doesn’t even pause despite the fact that it’s barely the crack of dawn and the sky is still hazy from the remnants of last night. the birds are barely tweeting out to each other, still testing to find a harmony to start the day. you’re as bright as the sun, however, when he offers a glance to you. an expression of stupor and excitement conveyed on your face due to his arrival. he’s stopped by a couple times now yet the warm buzz never dims: if anything, it flourishes like the row of flowers he planted on your front porch. vibrant and all-consuming. “still finding stuff to fix, si?” you joke while tilting your head. you stop him by the kitchen counter just as he’s about to state that everything looks maintained for now. “‘course,” he rumbles as his gaze sweeps to you, “soon you won’t need me though.” his statement is heavier than he expected and he opens his mouth to thwart the abrupt negativity but you beat him to it. the words tumble from your lips, “pretty sure I can always find something here that needs to be fixed.” your voice is soft as you add, “just as long as you want to stay.” he watches as your eyes flicker to the floor but it’s too late. ghost has already seen the tenderness that belongs wholly to him. your vulnerability that he wishes to cradle in his grasp. his hands clasp and unclasp by his sides before he finally mentions, “your fence needs fixin’ today. don’t want the strays comin’ in and fuckin tramplin’ on everything.” 

ghost who’s true to his word and tirelessly works to replace your fence posts even in the scorching heat. scratches the back of his neck while muttering something about how they’re rotted on the bottom. and it’s almost hypnotizing to observe how he works. methodically checking each panel’s angle to see how severe it is. he detaches the surrounding pickets and stringers from each post in order to pull the wooden planks out. it’s demanding manual labor, more exhausting than his previous projects, which is why he requests your help. “just need ya to hold these up for me and I’ll straighten out the rest. can you do that for me, pup?” he explains as he hands you a singular fence post. and you try– you really do since he asked so nicely– but the wood is coarse against your fingertips and the sweltering sun hits the nape of your neck too harshly. you huff, voice bordering a whine, “I can’t do this anymore, si.” and ghost, the saint he secretly is, just raises his head to peer up at you. he’s currently on his knees, denim jeans caked in dirt, and dripping with enough sweat that the edges of balaclava curl at the edges to expose slivers of pale skin. “be good for me, will ya?” an inquiry that sounds more like a command due to his thick accent. his dark eyes search for yours, squinting in the sun’s rays, before he goes back to digging around the base of the fence post. however, when even the rare sight of his bare skin does little to serve as a reward against the extreme heat, you’re pouting again, “can’t we do this another day–” “oi,” he interrupts you when his large hand blindly reaches back to clamp over your knee. his thumb moves to caress the inner portion of your knee and you can vaguely discern how each of his fingers press against your skin. featherlight touches that sear your skin. his gaze snaps to yours, a dark brow arching at your unwillingness to move. the next demand leaves his lips in a low, tempting voice, “behave.” 

ghost who’s a sucker for your large, beseeching eyes and only shakes his head when you prance back into your house. you’re humming a light tune when you skip up the steps, away from the harsh weather, and leaving him to continue angling fence posts alone. it’d be a crime for him to deny your wish. and it’s not like he bends to your every whim. sometimes. he huffs, half in amusement and half in disbelief, before hauling another slab of wood. it’s not like the task was terribly difficult. he’s proficient– a machine that rather enjoys ruthless duties. just assumes that teamwork would lessen the strenuous work. and having your company was always pleasant. he’s in the act of lifting another fence post when he spots you bounding towards him, a glass cup in your hands, and a radiant grin on your face. his heart flips. pounds against his chest like a sledgehammer beating against fragile wood. “made some lemonade,” you offer and raise the glass to him, “for the hard worker.” notices the hesitant tremble in your fingers and your sudden shyness compels him to inwardly crumble. like you weren’t already the cause of his peace. there’s a swirly straw and a decorative umbrella in the drink which catches his attention. calloused fingers skimming the edge of the vibrant garnish, he’s silent. has never gotten this treatment from another person. it's foreign to him but not unwanted. his eyes are unblinking, caught in a trance, before he’s murmuring honest appreciation for your generosity.

ghost who prods, a bit of humor in his voice, as he sips at the beverage, “a bit sweet, yeah?” coerces himself to ease the smirk that threatens to overtake his face when he recognizes how your eyes widen in alarm. recognizes the panic that spreads within you when you quickly suggest, “is it? let me try.” and he’s more than happy to comply. wordlessly edges the straw between your glossy lips so you can take a sip. half-lidded eyes trained on how your lips curl around the straw, an action that serves as his newest vice. one that he’s certain will take ages to treat. constant time that’d be spent with you. always you. “you’re right. it’s kinda too sweet,” you naively remark, flicking your eyes up at him. you’re so sweet to him– soft voice and all. he’s not looking at you, however. no, ghost lifts the straw to take another sip and as he pulls away, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. to chase after the taste of you. memorizing it. saccharine and gloss. a primal act that has you aching for more. “m’fault then,” his amused voice was snuffed by his blank expression as he gently gripped your jaw. you watch as he slowly blinks, blond lashes sweeping against his cheek, and lowly hums, “forgot I like sweet things.”  

[fanaticsnail]

Hi Snail, I need you to know I haven't been able to stop thinking about Invitation since I first read it 😭 it's just so absolutely perfect. Vampire Law has absolutely infested my brain, he's haunting me at this point! Every time I try to sit down and write he's the only thing I can think about!! I might have to write something for him just to free myself at this point (but do I want to be freed? I could just think about Vampire Law for the rest of my waking days!)

Oh, but you've invited him in now. Whatever shall we do...

Vampire Law - Punishment

Word Count: 300+

Themes: vampire!Law x gn!reader, mdni, 18+, smut, NSFW, penetrative sex, mean dom law, dacryphilia, blood consumption, a little bit yandere. Part 1 Here.

Notes: I couldn't get him out of my head either. If you ever want to write more for vampire Law, I gotta read it. For now, here's this little punishment. Thank you for your ask!!

The vampire, Trafalgar D Water Law, is absolutely utilizing that verbal confirmation to the epitome of his advantage. He's never going to be satisfied by simply releasing once into your body. Not after all that teasing and taunting.

Absolutely not.

As his cock begins to flood your body with icy ropes of otherworldly release, he'll take a moment to huff out a drunken laugh while he watches you cry at the overstimulation. His treatment was punishing, and his sex-drunk eyes peered down like a predator about to consume his meek prey.

His lengthy, dark eyelashes shrouded his blown irises, his pupils narrowing as they zone in on a fresh bite on your neck. He could sense your life pouring from your body, draining you dry while unloading you full.

“You gonna tap out, brat?” He asked, gently lulling his tongue out to swipe up over your chin, “Attempt to rescind your invitation?”

Eyes foggy and mind clouded, you babbled out a cock-drunk, “Can I do that?”

Law chuckled darkly, moving his lips up to eclipse yours in a cool kiss from his reanimated lips. Tugging at your bottom lip, he bit down on it and dragged it up before releasing it with a ‘pop.’

“No.” His taunt caused you to let out a soft whine, feeling his cock once again spring to life deep within your entrance. Stretching your walls over his girth, he began the slow roll and drag of his hips.

Aligning his thighs with yours, he threw your legs over his shoulders and let out a shuddered groan. Feeling how deep he was in your abdomen, seeing the soft bulge from his cockhead in your stomach had his need once again spring forth and cause him to abuse your tight flesh.

Perhaps you should've thought twice about edging a creature of the night, a soul damned to wander the abyss without a tether to a host.

Law’s right hand reached forward to stimulate you while the other gripped your thigh. His punishment never ceased, only stopping when he truly felt you had experienced enough of his wrath for a single evening.

He hopes you enjoy sailing, because now there was no way he would ever let you go.

[celestialprincesse]

More Simon X Single mom!Reader💕🌙

Based on this drabble😚

wc: 1.1k

You're so, painfully reluctant to ask Simon for help. He offers, frequently, to help you get bedded in to your small flat, which only now, finally free from the clutches of your desperation, do you understand why it was so cheap. The first time he comes over for dinner he notes the way your kitchen faucet takes ages to put out hot water, and honestly, it took a fair bit of blindly tapping (smacking) random pipes to get any water at all. He seems to take issue with not only the lack of amenities that could help you get settled, but also the fact that the few basics that you do have access to don't work. You're a single mom, with a three year old daughter, and his sense of justice has always been at war with his longing search for peace and isolation.

Simon doesn't have much to do when he's not deployed, Price putting him on some kind of mandatory break after the last mission went south, as did his mental health. Because of said lack of hobbies, work and education, Simon finds himself doing literally whatever he can think of to occupy his mind, to forget about what happened in October - if that means helping you string a wreath on the front of your apartment door and lugging a christmas tree up the stairs for you, that's what he'll do. You'll be the first to admit that you're cash poor - buying this house ate up the majority of your savings, and the rest you're currently blowing through supporting your daughter whilst also trying to get a job, very contradictory to the fact that you're also trying to lay low.

The man that lives next door to you is no fool, not as blind and imperceptive as you wish he'd be. You see the way his eyes occaionally shoot to the fading tan line on your left ring finger and the small, raised scar on your bicep. Occasionally, he himself wishes that he wouldn't see the bags under your eyes or the way you clutch onto your daughter like she'll be ripped away from you - maybe then he wouldn't feel such a sense of duty to you. Maybe he wouldn't lie awake at night thinking of the fact that he's spent his life plagued by gunfire to protect innocent women and children, and now faced with the people he vowed to lay down his life for, all he can do is offer to fix your blocked hot water pipe.

So, when you stand on his doorstep, sniffling down fat tears threatening to spill, apologising profusley when you look up to see his confused expression, he can't help but to engulf you, and your wailing daughter at your hip, into what he can only hope is a comforting embrace. "Y' a'right? Whats goin' on?" He murmurs, a hint of panic in his voice. Simon knows the feeling of your past coming back to haunt you all too well.

"I'm sorry I just - the oven is broken, and I need to make her dinner and bath her and put her down to bed -" Is all you can manage before you're hiccuping into the hand not supporting your equally as distraught baby girl.

For a second he just stops, his brain short circuits as he struggles to comprehend the fact that you're coming to him for help. He can't understand the way you lay your soul bare before him, not when he's so distant, so intimidating, and you're oh so soft, lovely as a morning songbird and as warm as sun soaked sand.

"Would you mind looking at it?" Even you recognise how pathetic you sound, standing here practically grovelling at your neighbours door, but apparently it works when he's guiding you back to the front door you stupidly left open in your panic, pulling out a kitchen chair and easing you down as you sit between utter misery and the panic which filled your lungs like a puncture in a life raft when one little part of your routine you'd become so reliant on fell out of place.

"Gas's out." He tells you softly, like any more bad news might make you shatter completely, and the thought of delivering that blow makes him feel physically sick. "Right - Right, no gas." You murmur, brain whirring at a million miles a second in order to work out what to do next.

"You could use my oven? I'll call the gas company in the morning and have them install a new bottle."

His words make you stop, processing his offer, his generosity, the generosity of a man who's never once been cruel or rough or mean to you, and you give a little grateful nod, cooing to your daughter about how you're going on an adventure to Simon's place. The way he scoops her up so that you can stuff a bag with all of the things you need to make dinner, bouncing her on his hip to stop her wailing makes your insides warm in an unfamiliar way, one that you promptly shake off as you follow him across the threshold of his undecorated apartment, trying not to stare at your surroundings as you're guided to a kitchen that you're sure is far more functional than your own.

The way Simon doesn't have any cartoon channels on his TV, so he grabs his laptop instead, plopping your daughter down on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders and some kind of kids show playing on the screen makes you ache, and you can't imagine how a man with no kids of his own could be so good with yours. There's a softness to him despite his physical body being comprised of muscle and sinew and scars, his soul is gentle. He's gentle with you, and he's gentle with your daughter, and that's all that you can ask for.

You make enough dinner for the three of you, mostly to thank Simon for his hospitality, but also because you're starving and the meat needs eating. When you ask where the cutlery is, he gives a little chuckle, grabbing out two sets for you and him, as well as your daughter's little blue Peter Rabbit spoon and tray. He helps you dish up dinner, and when you go to sit at the table, he steers you into the lounge.

"You're not worried about food on the couch?" You squeak in utter confusion, to which he gives a laugh and plops down on one end, placing your daughters tray before her where she sits in the middle of the two of you, happily scarfing down her dinner and watching whatever Simon could find on such short notice.

When you inevitably fall asleep on his couch, your daughter doing the same, Simon sets a blanket over the two of you before going into the kitchen to call the gas company, putting down his card details to pay for the new bottle. He's happy to cough up fifty quid that he's sure you don't have if it means not seeing his girls cry again.

[kissoulie]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒

𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

— NSFW, MDNI. being in love with soul ♡

warnings: not proofread, odd amount of minecraft references, implied that they met underage but all physical activity happens when both are adults, idol!soul, gender neutral for the most part

nsfw: fem-body in mind but can be read as gn (imo) mild voyeurism, some roughness, overall pretty tame

a/n: i wrote this while doing a harry potter marathon so it's not the best 😭 might make it a series tbh, one movie = one being in love with [piwon]. joking, mostly. work has been ass this week ngl and i work again tmrw buttttttt i will be able to dedicate at least 5hrs to delusion after i pick up some conditioner 🫶 who knows maybe i'll lock in and get it done by the 1st (i probably won't)

1. first meetings

soul is the type of person who would be your friend first. one of your very best friends, actually. if you aren't childhood friends, you would be someone he met by chance. at a store, cafe, a park. no matter what, you would be the one to approach him. striking up a conversation about an interest you both share. soul would take a liking to you immediately, opening up gradually, meeting you as often as his schedule allows. he would eventually have to introduce you to the members, and start bringing you over to the dorm. he's getting recognized. going out was becoming a chore for both of you. besides, you've been friends for a while, it's only natural the next step is hanging out in each other's personal space.

after years of your bond, soul finds both of you in his bed after a long day of practice. he wasn't sure what was up wirh you. normally, you wouldn't insist on seeing him after practice. you knew he was tired. for an hour, you'd been clinging to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. he didn't need words from you. yet, anyways. he just needed to know you're okay. "my treasure," he whispers, "what's wrong?"

your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt. those soft eyes of his, they melt you. "i just had a bad day."

mhmmmm. soul's hand finds itself pressed against your lower back, pulling you onto his lap with ease. "what else?"

"i love you, that's what else." you see soul's expression twitch ever so slightly, brows furrowing before he evens his gaze with your teary one, "i love you too."

2. commitment

life with soul is bliss. he's an extremely attentive lover. he already knows you inside out, and like everyone you change; he changes with you. he blossoms with you. soul loves you so much, he becomes the best version of himself. he doesn't even mean to. all he knows is that you know perfectly how to soothe his fears, how to celebrate with him, how to make him feel loved. he will never ask for more. he's the kind of boyfriend who brings you things that remind him of you. he makes a minecraft realm just for the two of you, where he fills up a whole book telling you how he loves you more than he's afraid of losing you.

soul has a possessive side to him. he rarely shows it around you, but sometimes you notice. when jongseob is making you laugh just a little too hard. or when you're alone with him in their shared room. if he could, sometimes soul thinks he would bite down on you and claim you forever. but then your eyes light up when you see him. you're encasing him in a hug so tight, so intimate, he forgets all about the possessiveness he felt.

date ideas are split evenly between the two of you. whether it's a movie marathon, a quick little errand turned exploring all the shops, a nice dinner date, playing video games for hours on end... you two come up with your own ideas of fun, and share them. but he never ever lets you pay. he will hold your hand so you can't get your card. trying to pay with cash? he's already tapped his card. oh you tried to be sneaky and pay for dinner by giving the server your card? he gave the hostess his the second you walked in. seriously. he's not huge on princess treatment, or gender roles, but he firmly believes you shouldn't have to pay for anything. except in minecraft. he will go halfsies with you when trading with villagers.

2. intimacy

always, always, always is touching you in some way. holding hands, arms wrapped around you, hand on your side. he is casually touching you no matter where you are. while he used to be shy about kissing you around the members, he'll kiss your forehead, cheek, and nose around them. kissing your lips is saved for when you two are alone because...

every kiss turns into a makeout session. no matter how innocent. you'll give him a soft peck, and before you know it his tongue is slipping past your lips, licking against your own. honestly, he doesn't even always wait until you're completely alone. jongseob does have noise cancelling headphones on, at least.

speaking of jongseob: your lovely boyfriend always seems to be more passionate with you when he's in the bed just across from you two. it's that possessiveness he hides from you. he wants to bite you so hard you bleed, so no one will ever look at you again. but he doesn't want to hurt you. so instead he settles for stretching you open with his fingers while his best friend is in the room. you would think he'd be quiet and leave him out of it, but his dirty talk makes it seem like he wants you to moan a little too loud. "quiet, baby. unless you want him to hear? want him to see how good i ruin you? how i pleasure you? you know he can't see you cum, baby, that's only for me to see."

but aside from that little fantasy of his. no matter how rough soul is with you, he's always making love to you. even when he's thrusting into you so hard the bed is shaking and your knees are pressed up next to your chest, he's still looking at you with his puppy eyes, making you feel so good. and if he finishes too early, you bet he's using his mouth to finish you off, even if it means eating some of his own cum. usually he's ready to go again by the time you cum anyways. he has endless stamina.

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre ♡

[sunarc]

Do We Have a Deal

Synopsis: Your shy sweet tutor could use a lesson of his own

Character:Choso x reader

CW:afab reader, smut with a little plot, cum eating, unprotected sex(wrap that willy), riding, kinda dom reader, reader is sassy, choso is shy, alcohol consumption, oral m receiving ,3.5k words, collegeau

A/N: i wanna rub my pussy juice on choso’s face also thankyou to @aztecbrujeria for fueling me with Choso content that basically motivated me to write!

Choso gets sweaty palms when he just so much as looks at you. His breathing becomes jagged and he finds himself holding his chest in an attempt to contain his sudden excitement. His eyes scanned over the crowded room watching the way people danced, sweaty bodies pressed against one another.

“You’re too tense, have a drink” Itadori’s voice yelled over the obnoxiously loud music.

This isn’t the kind of scene choso would normally find himself in. He’s not a partier yet, somehow he found himself pressed against a corner wall watching with fatigued eyes as sweaty bodies grind on one another. He’s not a drinker yet somehow he found himself gulping down large amounts of alcohol and grimacing after each sip. The only real reason he can say he’s here for is you. You love to party. You’re honestly the exact opposite of him if he’s being honest. You’re outgoing, you seem to always know the right things to say. Your laugh, my god your laugh, it’s one of the only things Choso can hear over and over again. You are such a ball of sunshine Choso finds himself squinting whenever he stares at you. He watched with low lidded eyes as you mingled with the crowd. Your clothes were skin tight showing off every curve. Choso's eyes analyzed every inch of skin he saw. Your plush thighs jiggled with each step you took, your plump lips formed a gentle smile. Choso wasn't a fan of sweaty bodies but the way your skin looked glistening covered in a sheen of sweat left him wondering, what other parts of you look as glorious as this? He shook his head almost embarrassed by the lewd thoughts that plagued him. His feet dragged him to the nearest exit. It was hot There were so many sloppily drunk people falling over him. He almost tripped over someone laying on the floor. His face scrunched up at the sight.

Parties are so silly , he thought to himself. He wondered why you liked them so much. He found himself standing aimlessly at the front entrance. He could have push his way back in through the sweaty bodies and find some sense of purpose in the party. He’d rather not waste his time doing that. He sat on the porch tapping his foot to the sound of the muffled music inside.

“You don’t seem like the party type” a voice rang out behind him.

“I’m not,” he answered without looking.

He felt a body plop down next to him unnaturally close. The skin to skin contact normally would have annoyed him but his head turned to see you sitting smiling at him. Your eyes were low and he could tell you had been drinking.

“Why are you here then” You questioned with a smug smirk.

Choso staresd wondering why you were outside with him right now. You looked exceptionally beautiful in the moonlight. You smelled nice too. He wondered how you could be so put together even when you had an altered state of mind. His eyes moved down to your lips. They looked so plump and soft. He was so caught up in you he nearly missed what you said to him.

“I-I’m sorry what was that?” he was usually never this nervous.

He fumbled over his words. His palms are even more sweaty than before. He’s fearful you might hear the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

“I asked if you were okay,” you smiled softly “ You’re out here all alone and I just wanted to check up on you”

What a kind soul you are.

“I’m alright, I’m just not a party guy” he said lowly “Why are you out here”

He wanted you to say because you were following him. He wanted you to say you couldn’t stand the thought of being at a party where you couldn’t find his face in the crowd.

“Someone threw up on the couch and it smelled horrendous” you said showing disgust at the memory.

Oh.

“And I saw you leave I just wanted to check up on my friend”

Oh?

“I um “ he felt himself growing even more nervous and he couldn't help but laugh at himself.

“You’re laughing”

“I am” he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that caused the sudden surge of bravery but his words shocked him “You make me nervous” he voiced

“I can tell” you said.

There was a silence between the two of you. It wasn't one that was awkward more so one that made him smile. He could feel your eyes staring at him causing him to feel hot all over.

“You never answered my question”

His eyes met yours and he almost regret turning to you.

“What question”

“If you’re not a party guy why are you here.”

You sat back leaning on your hands eyes never leaving him.

“You” he wished he could take the simple word back. His face went a sharp red. He turned away embarrassed at his sudden bravery.

“Me?” you said leaning forward coming close to him.

“Yes” his voice cracked and he wanted to hide away in a hole.

“But…” you leaned close, so close Choso was almost positive he could feel your lips against his skin. Your chest pressed against his arm and he could see the smug smile you had knowing the effect you had on him. You gave him a soft giggle before pulling back just enough to stare at him.

“You never speak to me when you come to these parties.” You said.

Your hand reached for his hand. He knew his palms were sweaty and he wanted to pull away to dry them but you moved too fast. You held his hand looking at the way his veins showed . His fingers were thick and his hand were wide.

“You only ever speak to me when we have our tutoring sessions together” You said still staring at his hand. You massaged the skin before feeling his arms. His muscles felt tense and you could tell he was growing more and more nervous by the second.

“You are a really good tutor by the way” you smiled “Why don’t you ever talk to me? Aren't we friends?” you said pushing a loose strand of hair from his face. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could voice his thoughts you were already saying the words he couldn't bring himself to say.

“I make you nervous” you whispered. Your voice was sultry.

Choso couldn't help the lewd thoughts that crossed his mind. He wondered how sultry your voice would sound moaning his name. He let out a breathy laugh unable to form any reply. His skin felt warm all over. Your body is pressed so close to him he didn’t even realize. You’ve never been this close with him, not even during your tutor sessions. You typically sat across from him staring and chatting away instead of paying attention to his dull intellectual words. You were never one for boring lectures, he learned the quickly. You liked to joke, you were quick witted and you always gave him silly nicknames that he never really minded.

You stood quickly and Choso’s eyes followed your figure. You held your hand out to him with a delicate smile.

“Walk me to my dorm?”

This wasn’t something new. Choso had walked you to your dorm room countless times after a tutor session. He wiped his hands against his jeans in an attempt to wipe away the sweat before grabbing your hand. Choso’s cheeks never burned so much before. You held his hand pulling him closely behind you. His feet dragged closely behind you. He bit his lip wondering what he could say in this moment.

Say something

He took a deep breath.

“So how did you do on your test?”

What are you a professor? Why are you asking about school?

He regretted the words immediately.

“Is that really what you want to know right now?” you turned to him.

“No”

“Then ask me something you care about?”You teased

He couldn't think. He could barely even focus on how to walk. One foot in front of the other he thought, chanting the words over and over in his head.

“Why do you come to these parties?” he asked hesitantly.

“Hm” you said thinking “ For you I guess” Choso hesitated cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean for me?”

“I come because you always seem to be at these parties, you come so often even though you stand in a corner looking like you hate everything” you said keeping a steady walking pace “I never really understood but I guess I do now. You’re just so intriguing” you continued.

Choso hung onto every word. His breathing was heavy as he leaned forward captivated by your voice.

“You find me intriguing?” he almost forgot everything you had just said focusing solely on that part.

“I do” you said stopping in your steps turning to him. His eyes stared down at you scanning over your body then to your lips.

“I find you so intriguing and I wish you would talk to me about more than just school.” you took a step towards him. Your hand glided up his arm to wrap around the back of his neck. You pulled him close to you. Your lips were inches apart. Choso’s eyes were filled with lust.

“I want to know so much about you” you pressed a kiss to his cheek “I want to know what drives you crazy” you pressed a kiss to his other cheek. You leaned back staring at his lips.

“I want to know what can I do to ease those nerves” your lips pressed against his for the first time and you felt chills run through your body. His arm wrapped around your waist pulling you in to deepen the kiss. Your lips moved in sync as if the two of you were meant for each other. It was messy but in the most perfect way. Choso could taste the liquor on your lips, it had never tasted so good. You pulled away and he followed wanting more of the taste of you.

“Come to my room” you whispered

Choso looked up not even realizing that the two of you were standing in front of your dorm. He wanted to go with you he swore it but he was so anxious he could barely move his feet.

“You’re drunk” he said.

“Sober enough to know what I'm doing though” you replied.

Quick witted as always

He didn’t realize how his feet followed you with barely any hesitation. He could feel his heartbeat growing stronger. The walk through the hall felt extraordinarily long. It’s so quiet he was positive this time you could hear how fast his heart was beating. You reached your dorm room and pulled him in. You led him through the apartment like room. His feet follow yours matching each step you took. Your room was nice, It smelled like you. You turned to him, slipping off your top. You stared at him watching the way his face turning a bright red. Your hands grab his leading them to your chest.

“You act like its your first time”

His eyes were wide. He tore his eyes away from you.

“I uh” he cleared his throat “I’m a virgin”

You smile holding his hands against your chest.

“I can teach you” you said. Your voice was soft and Choso couldn’t help but lean into you.

“T-teach me?” he stuttered

“Let me help those nerves, let me give you a lesson for once” you said emphasizing the 'you'. Your hands help Choso’s hands to massage your chest. Your eyes stare into his waiting for him to allow you to do as you pleased. He looked nervous scared almost as if he was afraid to have you in such an obscene way.

“I- are you sure” he asked in a shaky voice.

“Of Course. I want you Choso. Can I have you?” You were so close to him he could feel your breath fan across his skin. Choso closed his eyes silently praying this wasn't a dream but if it was he’d gladly entertain it.

“God you don’t understand how bad I want you”

His lips pressed against yours in an eager kiss. Heavy breathing filled the room. Your hands both scanned each others body leaving little to nothing untouched. His hands squeezed at your skin as he hungrily pressed his body against yours. The bulge in his pants began to grow. Your fingers danced against the hem of his pants.

“I’m gonna give you something special just for being so good for me Choso”

You got on your knees and unbuttoned his pants, eyes never leaving his nervous ones.

“It’s okay” your said breathlessly as you pulled his underwear down freeing his cock. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

You gave the tip of his cock a kiss before sliding his length into your mouth.

Choso was big. His cock was thick and long and almost impossible to take whole. You couldn’t believe he was keeping all of this to himself. Your head bobbed along his length slowly. You let out soft moans. The vibrations of your moans left Choso shaking. He rocked his hips into your mouth in a delicate motion as if afraid he’d hurt you. He slipped his shirt off tossing it to the side revealing his toned chest. His hand came up to his hair gripping the strands. He looked down watching the way your mouth stretched to take his cock. Drool pooled down the sides of your mouth. Choso couldn’t help but think of how pretty you looked taking his cock like this.

“F-fuck you’re gonna make me lose it” he whimpered.

You let out a small laugh as you released his cock from your mouth with a popping sound. Your hand stroked him while your tongue licked the tip causing him to shiver.

“If you cum in my mouth I promise I’ll let you make a mess in my pussy”

Choso’s eyes grew wide at your words. You took his length back in your mouth, bobbing your head in a slow teasing motion. His hands grabbed at your hair pulling gently. He stared down at you, jaw hanging slowing.

“I’m so sorry “ the words slipped past his mouth as his hips picked up speed rocking into your mouth. You let out gagging noises as his cock touched the back of your throat. Choso’s groans and whimpers began to fill the room. He couldn’t contain himself as he fucked himself into your mouth.

“I-I’m so fucking sorry Angel” he panted “You’re mouth is just so warm and good I can’t help myself.”

He let out desperate whines as he continued his abuse to your mouth. He threw his head back letting out a strained moan as his cum filled your mouth. He looked down at you eyes filled with desire and concentration as he watched his cum drool down the corner of your mouth. He pulled his cock out using it to wipe your lips. You licked the cum off his cock with a giggle. Choso didn’t even recognize his actions. He never thought he would be one to make a pretty girl lick the cum off his cock yet here he was shoving his cock back into your mouth just to make sure you swallowed all of it.

“You look so pretty”

You stood up and grabbed Choso by the back of his neck and pulled him in for a wet kiss. The kiss was messier than before. Your spit mixed with his as your tongue pushed against his. The two of you took off your remaining clothes before you pushed him down onto the bed. He sat watching you crawl into his lap with wide eyes.

“You’ll be a good boy for me and make my pussy nice and creamy for me right?” you moaned the words as you placed the tip of his cock at your entrance.

Choso almost went feral feeling you slid down onto his cock. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as your walls squeezed around him. This feeling was completely different from your mouth. It had him breathless without you even moving. His mouth hung open drooling gliding down to his chin. His hands found their way around you hips squeezing at your skin. You bounced your hips up and down in a slow pattern. Choso cursed to himself quietly noting that you liked to tease. He had never felt anything like this in his life. The way you felt gliding up and down on his cock. Your slick dripped down making a puddle around his core. He thought he might lose his mind. Your chest bounced up and down as you moved. Choso couldn't help but bring one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked and nibbled at the bud causing you to moan. His hands wrapped around your body clawing at your skin.

“Please” he whimperd. He wasn't sure what he was begging for but it was the only word he could think of along with a string of curses. His hips bucked roughly up into yours meeting your movements. His hands moved to grip the fat of your ass squeezing harshly. His nails dug into your skin. Choso never thought he would be one to whimper and moan so much during his first time but the noises that slipped past his lips were euphoric to your ears.

“You’re- fuck” he could barely form a sentence as he was cut off from the pleasure of your gummy walls squeezing him so tight.

“You like that?” you asked.

Choso almost missed you words as he was so concentrated on shoving his cock upwards into you. Your hand squeezed his jaw forcing him to make eye contact with you. Tears brimmed his eyes. He had never felt so desperate and needy before in his life.

“I asked you a question pretty boy” you said as you threw your ass back onto his cock.

The sound of his balls slapping against your skin filled the room, yet somehow not overcome by the lewd sounds of Choso’s moans.

“You like the way my pussy feels sucking you in hm?” You whispered the words into his ear.

“Yes I-I love it so much” he choked out. “Pussy feels so good” he grunted

You let out a pleased hum at his words. You placed wet kisses down his neck that you’re sure will leave a mark.

“You’re mine now Choso” You whisper the velvety words into his ear.

Choso let out a whimper.

“Please” he whined “ Please let me cum”

You bounced up and down chasing after your own orgasm.

“I like it when you beg” the words dripped down your tongue “ cum for me baby”

Choso’s eyes saw stars as he came. His thrust were wild as he fucked you through his and your orgasm. His teeth clamped onto your shoulder as he lost control. He never felt something like this before, not even during his late night sessions of touching himself to the thought of you. Those short skirts you would wear to your tutor sessions or the way you would bend over to grab your pencil showing him the pretty panties you would wear always left him feeling insatiable. Never did he think that he’d have the chance to fuck you so sloppily, watching the way his cum dripped out of your hole onto his cock. He leaned his head back breathing heavily still holding your body against his chest.

“I- fuck - wow you’re amazing” he was at a loss for words.

“So were you tutor, how does it feel having pussy for the first time” you asked giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Wow” was all he could manage to say. His eyes were dilated. You knew he was too fucked out of his mind to really speak.

“Let’s make this a regular thing, you tutor me in physics and i’ll tutor you in sexology” you giggle at the made up subject name “deal?”

Choso looks at you with doe eyes

“Deal.”

[tarotwithavi]

Messages from the universe

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

Pile 1

Get ready for the amazing times that are about to roll in! Clear out any mental roadblocks both in the whimsical realm and the regular human world because there's an abundance coming your way, and guess what? There's plenty for everyone. It's like a big party, and you're invited! Believe it or not, magic is real, but it won't show up unless you're a believer. Magic is everywhere, especially in nature. you're a part of nature, so that makes you magical too. Embrace it! Your dreams are like precious gems. Keep them snug in your heart until you're ready to let them loose. Some might try to rain on your parade, and we don't want that. I'm like your cosmic genie, ready to grant your every wish just give me the word! Oh, and by the way, I drop hints in your dreams, so keep an ear out for my cosmic whispers. we're talking abundance and prosperity knocking on your door. Plus, get ready to meet your divine masculine! I won't spill the deets because, hey, surprises are the best.

Pile 2

Take a moment to reflect on where you are right now – living the life you once only dreamed of. Embrace the solitude as a chance to be in perfect harmony with everything around you. The greatest treasures often reveal themselves in the quiet moments. Your dreams are not far-fetched; they're grounded in reality. It's time to translate those aspirations into actions. If there's something on your mind, seize the moment and dive into it. Don't overthink; just do it. Sometimes, what you've been neglecting is about to unfold, and it's a hidden blessing. Revealing what's been concealed can bring a sense of liberation. Remember, you're a pure soul. Trust in the innate purity of your heart. Dive deep within, and you'll discover the answers to your lingering questions. Have you ever been told you possess wisdom beyond your years? Now is the perfect moment to tap into that inner wisdom to navigate through the challenges that come your way. Trust yourself—you've got this.

Pile 3

Alright, as you step into this fresh chapter of your life, it's crucial to find that sweet spot between your emotional and logical sides. Let those emotions flow, but also let reason guide you. Now, about those anger issues – time to put them on a leash. This new phase calls for a more composed and collected version of yourself. Picture this as a rebirth – leaving the old you in the rearview mirror. It's a shedding of the unnecessary, starting with those folks who aren't adding value to your journey anymore. Cut ties where needed. And those old habits? Yeah, give them the boot. They've overstayed their welcome. Excitingly enough, your spark is making a comeback. Life is about to get a splash of passion, and you'll feel alive like never before. Things that were lost in the shuffle are about to resurface. It's like a treasure hunt, and sometimes, people come into our lives like treasure hunters, helping us rediscover things we didn't even know were missing. Embrace this upcoming rediscovery – it's about to get interesting!

[clandestineloki]

the queen of hearts (NSFW)

mafia!loki x reader x mafia!bucky

tw: threesome, cuckolding, light bondage, corruption kink, innocence kink, praise kink, slight humiliation kink but it's very sweet i promise, unprotected sex

================================================

he’s always loved seeing you so nervous.

loki watches as you waddle around to the bar counter, lips parting and closing again in hesitation.

goodness, you pure little soul. he can see your dainty little hand tapping at your side as you ask for two glasses of Bourbon Old Fashioned, stuttering out a please and thank you like a good girl, and norns if you aren’t just the cutest when you’re shy.

as if you haven’t done much more depraved favors for him than just fetching some drinks.

and not only is that trait the one thing loki loves most about you; it’s also the most obvious. you can never hide anything from him— not that you do that often, but it doesn’t take him much… persuading to get you to admit what’s on your mind— the flush of your cheeks and chest and the way your eyes dart away and the way you hide your face in the side of your hair is unmistakable.

especially tonight, when he invited you to come with him to the casino for a few hours of poker between him and the second-in-command of the howlers— bucky barnes.

normally loki’s quite possessive, hiding you away from any men that even breathe differently near you, in fear that they might kidnap you or take you away from him.

but he trusts bucky and knows him quite well— from the very wine he fancies to the two secret hideout flats he has in case something happens (aka, where to find him if he even dares to try anything).

more importantly, he relishes in the flustered look on your face when bucky talks to you.

and he finds it adorable how you're nothing but a flushing, timid mess around barnes.

it’s no secret you see bucky as much more than just your lover’s illegal business partner. (loki knows that shyness all too well, from when he first took you to a dinner date at the rooftop of a first-class hotel and asked to be your official boyfriend, from when he gave you a beautiful diamond necklace to wear at a party with him, from when he kneels between your spread legs, lifting up your dress to reveal the dripping wet, clenching little cunt he loves to spoil so much.)

it was undeniably cute how you clung to loki when the three of you first met at the lobby, and even more adorable when barnes complimented your little blue dress and you mumbled a thank you, tucking your face into loki’s shoulder.

he merely chuckled, softly patting your head as he sent a knowing look to barnes.

“i’m back!”

loki looks up to see you place down the glasses.

the corner of his mouth quirks, and he reaches for your hand and presses it to his lips, mumbling a thank you, angel as he watches in amusement as you react so cutely, eyes widening and face burning red.

bucky clears his throat and raises his eyebrow from the other side of the table. “loki. your move."

loki snickers, letting go of your hand as he side-eyes bucky. “don't rush me, barnes. you'll get your turn soon."

both of them know he's not just talking about poker.

================================================

“you fucking bastard.” bucky grins, laughing breathlessly.

loki chuckles, raises his hands as the dealer sweeps the chips to his side of the table.

“one time. one time you let me win is all I ask," bucky takes another swig of his drink.

“sorry, i have to put on a show. can't let my darling here think i'm a loser.”

you perk up from leaning on loki's shoulder, half-asleep.

“hmm?" you mumble, sitting up. "more drinks?”

loki chuckles, placing a hand on your knee and another on your head to lean you back against him. “no, no, we're alright, thanks, love.”

“y’know,” bucky quips, tapping a finger on the table. “this’s getting a little boring. you and i both have a lot of money and betting a few thousand isn’t gonna change that.”

loki tilts his head, brows furrowing. “i don’t follow.”

“just wondering,” bucky shrugs, running his metal hand through his hair. “why don’t we put much more valuable stuff at stake?”

your lover grins. “like?”

bucky rolls up the left sleeve of his black button-up, flashing a stunning gold watch.

“this is one of the very first rolex oysters ever made, back in 2000. an ordinary one costs six thousand, but this baby is worth 1.7.”

“million?”

loki turns when he sees your eyes widen as you lean forward, admiring the watch.

“you heard it right. some say the only people who have ever touched it are the ceo, steve jobs, and kim kardashian.”

“and you.” you mumble softly. “i remember i watched this on buzzfeed unsolved. it went missing from from the british museum... did you-?”

“hold on, sweetheart," bucky chuckles, “i didn't steal this or anything. hydra did, i just happened ‘ta rip it off that bastard strucker’s dead body.”

loki turns to bucky. “it’s… quite interesting. though, it's a shame i don’t have anything on me tonight worth betting.”

bucky’s eyes meet yours.

then he grins.

“how ‘bout you bet your little angel here, huh?”

loki’s eyes darken, pulling you close to himself. “what?”

bucky laughs, waves his hand nonchalantly.

“not, like, forever, just one night, take her for a little spin. bet she sounds real pretty when she feels good, huh?”

in the corner of his eye, loki sees your brows furrow, and he feels you grip onto his shirt tighter.

“not that i’ll stand a chance against you, snake boy. doesn’t really matter what you put on the line if you win, right?”

you place your hand over loki’s, looking up at him anxiously. “loki, did i hear that right?”

he brushes a hand against your cheek, before turning to barnes.

“give us a moment."

bucky nods, standing up to go get another drink, leaving the atmosphere heavy with tension as loki patiently waits for you to say something.

“is it… weird that i kinda want the watch?"

loki scoffs, patting your hair as you lean into his touch. “of course not. i’ll win it for you, i’ll even kill him if it m-”

“no!!" you yelp, and he laughs.

“just joking, dear." he kisses your hand again.

“mhm.”

“mhm?" he mimics your breathy hum, smirking and teasingly kissing your cheeks and neck. “and why is my angel suddenly so shy, mhm?"

you gasp, trying to push him away with no avail. “loki, love, baby-”

he leans in just enough for his lips to graze against your ear. “can i tell you a secret?"

you nod, whining softly, and he grins.

“i know about your little crush on barnes~"

your eyes widen. “what?"

“oh, don't act so coy, love.” loki presses a hand to your chest, pushing you against the seat. “you know you can't hide anything from me, can you?"

“i’m not hiding anything-”

loki chuckles, shaking his head as he leans over you, smiling harder when your face flushes.

“right, you aren't, love," he tucks a stray bit of hair behind your ear. “not when it's so obvious to me. not when you’re such a shy little dove when he’s around, hmm?"

the way your lips part and close again as if you’re struggling to speak goes straight down to his crotch. he knows deep down you want this, that no matter how much you deny it the way you squeeze your soft thighs together is unmistakable.

“i’m going to accept this little deal, angel.”

he tentatively presses his thumb against your lips, watching intently as your chest heaves nervously at his touch.

“and while we’re playing, i’ll be watching your every reaction to him.”

he brushes your lower lip, pressing a bit harder to slip his thumb into your mouth, pulling away just a second after. you mewl softly, but he pins you to the seat so you can't get away as he leans in to brush his lips seductively against your neck.

“and if i see you turn even the slightest bit pink, i’m going to let him win on purpose and he’ll have you all to himself for the rest of the night.”

he knows you're way too transparent to even try and hide it, but that's the point, isn't it? he knows you want it too. and who is he if not the very first person who should be showering you in rewards and granting your every wish?

he nips down hard on your neck*,* then sucks delicately on the spot, relishing in the sweet sound of pleasure that leaves your lips.

“and if you’re a very good girl for him, i’ll give you a reward you’ll love very much. do you understand, my angel?”

“yeah,” you answer, more whimper than words.

he grins, and just in time, bucky comes back with a few drinks, sitting across the table just as loki moves away from your trembling figure, adjusting his tie very casually as if he didn’t just cuckold you off to his best friend.

needless to say it doesn't take long for the game to end and the more exciting part of the night to begin.

================================================

loki pours himself a drink, swirling the liquid around in the ice and taking a sip.

pretending his cock isn't getting harder with every whimper from you.

bucky’s got you pressed against the king-size bed in his suite, being a pretty angel so kiss-drunk already as he pins your wrists to your side. he’s teased you relentlessly on the elevator ride up to his suite on the 38th floor.

“bucky..." you mumble, your voice breaking off into a gasp as he moves down to your neck.

“gosh,” he grins against your sensitive skin. “you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.”

the praise has your head spinning as bucky sucks at your neck, grazing his teeth over the mark he’s making.

“see? that right there, how you get all shy when i tell you you're pretty, makes you such a cutie… i don’t blame loki for always keepin’ his hands on you, sugar~”

“bucky-!” you squirm as his knee presses up against your crotch.

loki takes another swig of the alcohol and sets his glass down.

he chuckles. “where are you running off to~?”

bucky is just as amused by your shy antics, letting you struggle in his grip as much as you want to, though he doesn’t let you go.

“gosh, lokes. she’s so-” he kisses your neck real hard and your eyes glaze over, “-fucking pretty.”

“she really is~” loki agrees, leaning back in his chair. “you know, you can be a little bit rougher with her.”

bucky hums. “really? she's real sensitive, don’t think she’ll last long, can’t have my little prize passin’ out on me. will ya’, pretty?”

you shake your head, and both men smirk at how good you want to be for both of them.

“i just wanna get a little taste of you, baby,” bucky mocks your breathless whines. “so could you be a good girl and lay back, hmm? let me claim my prize?”

“o-okay…” you mumble, feeling floaty as his hands wander all over you,.

“so damn cute,” bucky growls, nipping your ear. he places his hands on your thighs, spreading you out for him. bucky’s eyes widen, and he looks back at loki.

loki grins. “no underwear, hmm? just as i told her. see, she’s such a dirty little thing~”

“this whole time?” bucky kisses your inner thigh. “you’re corrupting her, loki.”

“and she likes it,” loki crosses his legs. “no matter how shy she is, it makes her feel heavenly when i praise her for doing everything i command.”

flustered at the way these lethally attractive men are talking about you as if you aren’t here, your eyes meet bucky’s and he smirks.

“that true, baby?”

“i- uh, kinda…?”

loki chuckles at your answer. “barnes, i think your reward is getting a little restless~”

bucky licks his lips and dives in for the kill, tracing his tongue along your slit before sucking on your clit. you whimper, trembling at the sensation, and bucky chuckles.

“god, you taste so fucking pretty.”bucky groans, using his thumb to tease your little bud as he fucks your dripping hole with his tongue.

loki shifts in his seat, the bulge in his pants becoming more and more prominent as he downs the rest of his glass and makes his way towards your helpless, shaking body.

a loud ripping sound fills the room and you gasp, completely bare as loki reduces your little blue dress to shreds.

“i’ll buy you a new one, angel,” loki sits you up as bucky grins up at you, his face wet with your juices.

your eyes widen as he licks his lips again, and you get flustered at the brazen look in his eyes.

“god, sugar,” bucky unfastens his belt. “’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll go stupid.”

you whine, closing your legs to ease the ache, but loki whispers in your ear, “don’t move, darling, you said youd be good for him~”

when bucky rolls up his other sleeve, you realize that you’re completely bare to them while they are both still fully clothed.

the feeling of powerlessness sends a tear down your leg.

bucky pins you down on the bed ass up, and loki takes the belt, binding your hands behind your back.

“she gets all fidgety when she starts feeling good,” loki chuckles when you whimper at his drawl. “don’t want her running off when you make her dumb, hmm?”

bucky swats his hands away, and leans in really close to your ear.

“i’m gonna fuck your pretty hole real good, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine at his dirty words.

bucky spreads your thighs and lines up, smirking up at loki, who quirks an eyebrow as he returns to his seat.

“and your loki here is gonna watch as you come for me over and over and over again like the little cockdrunk princess you are.”

there’s a lewdly wet sound that comes from your pussy as he pushes his cock into you, and you moan loudly, soaking him with your arousal and clenching down on him like a little slut.

“and maybe… if you look real pretty and let me do what i want, i’ll let loki have a turn~”

your glassy eyes flicker up and you whimper at what you see.

loki’s got one fist around his leaking cock, watching as his pretty baby adjusts to bucky’s size.

“you ready, cutie?” bucky laughs at the blissful teary look in your eyes, and decides that he’s got his reply.

he pulls his hips back slowly, making you really feel every bit of him sliding out-

bucky slams back in, stealing your breath and making you squeak brokenly. he laughs, kissing your cheek with a loud smack sound. “hmm? feeling good, sweetheart?”

“uhuh…” you look back at bucky, who grins and kisses you again on the lips.

“such a good little baby~” he mocks your airy voice, and presses you down on the bed and begins thrusting at a slow but rough pace.

loki groans as he watches you get fucked dizzy. “you alright, darling~?” he smiles teasingly, voice raspy from stimulating himself.

“y-yeah…” you mumble, whimpering into the pillows as bucky fucks you from behind.

loki just loves you like this: so depraved yet still shy and willing and still so eager to please, even when your coherence is withering away with every relentless thrust of bucky’s cock into your cunt.

“so fucking cute-” bucks rams particularly hard into you, making you squeak and kick helplessly.

“no, no, don’t fight it, darling,” loki chuckles, tilting your chin up to get a look at your pretty eyes wet with tears. “you’re just his little prize, so just be a good girl for us?”

bucky licks your shoulder and sucks on your sensitive skin, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“f-fuck, i’m getting close, baby~” he whispers hoarsely. “think you can come for me? keep squeezin’ your pretty cunt around me just like that?”

“mhm…” you whimper, nudging your cute little head into the pillow.

bucky fucks into you, groaning at the feeling of your warmth, and pins your shaking hips down on the bed before coming inside of you and making sure none of it drips out. loki cums too, his spent staining the expensive carpet.

shaky breaths tickle your ear, before he laughs and kisses your shoulder, pulling out and untying the belt on your wrists. loki laughs at how limp his pretty angel is as bucky lifts you up into his lap.

“cutie,” bucky traces a metal finger under your chin, brushing his lips against yours.

you shyly hum, eyes droopy and your body too exhausted to move.

but you still register the metallic click and something encasing your wrist.

“a little gift to you for being such a sweetheart, hmm?”

your eyes flutter open as you look down at the million-dollar gold watch around your wrist.

bucky laughs at the way your eyes widen. “don’t scratch it, baby. it’s a modern-day historical relic~”

“b-but didn’t loki lose?” you ask, “that’s why i-”

another set of arms wraps around you, making you wonder when loki got up from his seat.

“darling,” loki drawls, “what you don’t know is that either way, bucky would have ended up fucking your pretty cunt, mm? he likes you very much, doesn’t he?”

your lips part as he places you back down on the bed, spreading your legs before cradling the back of your head with one hand and grabbing your hips in the other.

“while bucky’s recovering from how good you made him feel, pretty angel~” loki praises you, kissing your lips and breaking away too soon, “let’s make the most of the night and your pretty body, shall we? don’t worry, you’re in very good hands with the both of us, my princess~”

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 24: COCKWARMING 𝘈𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: anon ➡ Hi, I saw your requests were open for the upcoming event, do you mind writing 24 (if it's not already taken) for Aizen and adding a bit of praise, just him being kinda soft with the reader (which can be written as gender neutral if you'd like), thanks for considering ♡  Best wishes. tw: mdni. cockwarming. praising. kinda romantic in aizen's way. wc: 990 masterlist

Trembling limbs are left after he has you in between his claws, nights like this are the ones who made it all worth it… the sex, and the aftermath as well. Those who know Aizen would probably say that Sosuke fucks you and leaves you there, with no consideration whatsoever… but, they are all wrong. Perhaps, it was just you. With you. Who knows?

Outside it’s pouring rain, those fall downpours. Your body still lays warm after he made love to you, where kisses abounded, and climaxes teemed.

Curled up in between fine silky sheets, you hear the whistling sound of his kettle coming from the kitchen. Whenever he is over, and you are all cleaned up, he always stands up to take a cup of tea. And tonight, it wasn’t the exception.

As he comes back, with steam coming from his cup reaching out his glasses, the uncovered chest and the loose grey pants present before your eyes. His skin, with a hint of caramel tint, goes very well with his cinnamon eyes. His chocolate hair, makes the perfect combination with his sweet facial traits.

“Do you want some tea, (Name)?” he asks you, brushing his hair back as he speaks. You swallow; how comes this man is as hot as the sun itself?

“No, thanks…” you mumble, yawning after. You are by far tired, exhausted. Sosuke had the fantastic idea of spending together the weekend at the mountains. The amazing cabin he chose has a huge window wall, perfect for enjoying the scenery outside, and the crackling noises of the fireplace mix with the heavy rain outside lulling you.

Aizen takes a last sip of his tea while enjoy peaks of your nude anatomy in between the covers. You lie on your side, with legs crossed as he commanded… who knows why he is so interested in you doing so…

“Hmm… Seems to me that you are sleepy” he giggles in that sexy way he only knows how to. Aizen walks towards the bed once he leaves the cup and his glasses by the table. The way his hipbones move when he does, makes you shiver, makes you squeeze your thighs even more.

You nod, shily smiling at the man in front of you and while he gets in bed you can smell the everlasting scent of his skin. A sugary perfume that’s both sweet and manly.

When he finally gets in bed, he pulls you closer to his chest. Hairless, well trained, still with a barely visible scar from a very old surgery in the middle of his chest.

“Come’ere” he murmurs, allowing you to place your head over one of his pecs. His hand, delicate but dominant, finds the perfect place to rest; the small of your back.

You get drunk of his scent, of his soul. There is something within this man that’s so strong, so attractive, that invites you to willingly submit to him, to praise him like a love and sex god.

With his free hand, that up until now he kept behind his head, he grabs yours. He plays, first tapping the tips of your nails and then down trapping your ring finger. Sosuke’s autumn eyes fix on an invisible ring, the sharp brows slightly rise, and his lips separate just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his front teeth.

“Heh…” he scoffs, licking so slowly his upper lip. What is this man thinking? Perhaps a new plan? In any case, you sigh loudly… no matter how sleepy you might be, there is always energy for arousal.

Aizen lets go of your hand and looks up to the ceiling. He smiles, pleased, and pulls you closer against him. You snake your leg around his, giving your body exactly what it needs; to be one with him.

He takes a big gasp of air through his pointy straight nose; he is tired too. Both have lost track of how many times he made love to you.

“Mhhh, I adore your skin… you are always so warm, so soft” he whispers, pressing down and sliding his hand up until your ass. Soft, almost like caresses, spanks follow.

“Sosuke…” you gasp, looking up. Your eyes run through the sharp line of his mandible, and land on the apple of his cheeks. The everlasting soft honey tint on them invite you to kiss them.

Your hand reaches for his shoulder, the protrusion of collar bone joining his scapula, feels sharp on your fingertips. You crawl up until you reach for that spot. A soft peck planted, the first of many sleepy kisses given.

His neck, a temptation you are not willing to give up even as asleep as you are. Nibbling softly on his flesh, you can’t leave marks… Sosuke Aizen is one of the most influential leaders in the world, nobody must see him with something so silly like a hickey.

“You are about to fall asleep, you are such an insatiable pretty little thing…” he mutters, kissing the crown of your head and passing his hand down your chin to lift your face up. “Look at you… look at your tired eyes, come on let’s go to sleep” he continues, helping you turn around and lay on the side.

Aizen waits for you to get comfortable and hugs you as the big spoon. You move back your ass, enough for it to perfectly align with his crotch. The more your skin can feel his body, the more you smile.

“You are still so needy, don’t you…?” he whispers in your ear, sliding his hand from your waist down your belly, to push you even closer. More and more, squeezing you very well against his growing hardness.

His naked chest receives your naked back, his chin rests on your shoulder. A sloppy kiss, with wet lips, is left in your neck.

“Mhh… yes, I want it ~” you purr, because there is something you two do whenever is sleep time…

“You wanna sleep with me inside, mh? You will allow me to feel you so warm around me?” he asks, taking his pyjama pants down until they reach for they feet and finally are completely off.

You nod, groping blindly for his hipbone to push him against you. Wet, and drippy, overly sensitive you are, and you can’t wait to feel his shaft very, so deeply inside of you.

You can feel him smirking, with his lips pressed on your nape. You can sense his hand pumping his dick against the small of your back, getting ready to slide inside you.

Sosuke lets his wet tip play with your entrance, up and down, before letting the pressure of your bodies to push his shaft into it.

You feel it stretching you and a little whimper leaves your lips. Your moan combines with his low grunt, right by your ear.

“So… tight… such a perfect creature you are” he melts pronouncing those words. “God, you are so warm and tight…” he whispers, biting the lobe of your ear. After a big sigh, in which he had to fight not to fuck you until you drop, he hugs you tightly.

Aizen remains completely still but relaxes against you. You do the same, just by only being full of him, is enough to make you feel so good and calmed. “Keep me warm, baby” he murmurs, with his eyes closed, about to fall asleep. “I will, Aizen-sama💖…” you whisper, joined in one… a single soul.

Taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon @fushiguroshotwife 💖🙆‍♀️

[cambion-companion]

Inferna Victoria

Dining with the devil and having to answer for your breaking and entering...and sleeping with his personal incubus.

This was fun to write, most likely will follow it up with a part 2! But I needed to get this out of my system.

PLUS their banter is SO fun to write. I just love the way Raphael speaks.

Raphael x Reader | Victory dinner that was promised but we never got | OH he KNOWS about the Haarlep incident | light smut towards the end

“What an unexpected pleasure.”

You turned, the heels of your shoes sliding easily on the dark marble.  Your nose almost brushed against his, the scent of musk and cherries causing your head to spin for a moment before you could regather your senses.  From the tone of his greeting, there was nothing “unexpected” about your visit.

You raised a coy brow. “Do most devils not have a sense of personal space?”

Raphael didn’t return your smirk. His usually playful expression had become sharp almost tense. Warm whiskey eyes drank in your features, your face turned up as he towered over you, your chests almost touching.

When next he spoke, his lilting cadence had deepened into something akin to primal. A dark timbre sweetened by a fondness the cambion only seemed to harbor for you.

“You have served your purpose to the letter of our contract.  Why are you here?”

So enraptured were you by his hypnotic gaze you didn’t initially feel his hands skimming up the outside of your arms, tracing the curve of your body as they moved down to your hips.

Playful words spilled unbidden from your eager mouth. “You promised me a dinner.”  Your breath caught in your throat, taken aback by his soft touch before his fingers sharpened their grip on your soft flesh. “I came quite ready to partake.”

“So I gathered.”  Your ill-disguised flirtations clearly pleased Raphael.  With one hand remaining low at your waist, he guided you into the dining hall.  His heavy gaze continued to burn into you, try as you might to act oblivious.  You could practically feel the trails his eyes were scorching into every facet of your visage. “Always such an eager little thing. An excellent client and an even better co-conspirator.”

You snorted a laugh, watching him as he sank down languidly against a rather gaudy mahogany chair and stretched his long limbs, placing one booted foot atop the table. “You are pleased with my success, I take it?”

“I cannot sing your praises enough.”  Now Raphael smiled, easing the unexplained tension between you two as he picked idly at his nails. “The souls I tend to in my dungeon especially are regaled by the tale of your saving a world they can never return to.”

“Prolonging their suffering?”  You rolled your eyes, expecting nothing less, never forgetting his true nature. “How appropriate.”

“Enhancing.”  Raphael corrected, his foot shifting off the table as he rose to his feet and met your gaze squarely. “You are more familiar with me than most who enter my home, little hero.” The endearment rang with irony. “I am glad you came. However uninvited. Which…”  He tapped long fingers against polished wood, his smile gaining an edge. “Brings up a breach of contract I’ve wished to address after you won me the crown.” 

You felt a pit open in your stomach, knowing very well what Raphael was referring to. You opened your mouth to quickly defend yourself, but he interrupted, gesturing to the large table. “Sit.”

As you obeyed, sitting upon a plush seat and tensing as Raphael circled behind.  His large hands gripped the back of your chair, and you felt the stirrings of your hair beneath his breath. “If you wished me to entertain you in my Boudoir, you had but to ask nicely.”

“I…”  You had no excuse. “I apologize.”

“A sweet sentiment, but I do not accept it.”  Raphael’s presence shifted and he walked slowly to the grant mahogany seat opposite yours, taking a moment to look down upon you before he sat.

“Enlighten me as to the innerworkings of your mind.”  Raphael continued speaking slowly, his elegant brow arching imperiously. “What gives a small speck of a mortal the right to enter the home of a devil uninvited?”  He leaned forward, observing your silence with an air of condemnation. “Speak, ere I exact penance and take your leaden tongue for insolence.”

Your heart stuttered, this was not how you expected your victory dinner to go. “Gale was quite insistent we find a way into your home to, uh, destroy our contract.”

“Here I thought wizards had a modicum of intelligence.”  Raphael didn’t look pleased, nor did he appear as livid as you expected. He leaned back and gestured for you to continue.

“Upon entry, your house was a mess by the way, I had second thoughts.  Betraying your trust would pitch me into inevitable conflict with you…and I don’t want that.”

“Do go on.”  Raphael wore a smirk, halfway between mocking and amused. “You are at the cusp of this story’s climax.”

You felt the heat of the room intensify as your face flushed. “Yes, well…upon gaining entry to your room, your Boudoir, I met someone who gave me very little choice to walk away freely without giving something of myself first.”

“Thus, like a good mouse you wriggled and squeaked atop my bed before turning tail and running back to your little hole.” Raphael finished and nodded, seeming satisfied.

“I didn’t take anything…or disturb anything.”  You defended yourself.

“You took pleasure from my incubus.”  Like the changing tides, Raphael’s mood darkened yet again. He raised a finger and tilted his head. “Yet, you left something behind that balances the scales somewhat.”

“I’m not sure it balances the scales. They still seem quite tipped against my favor.”  You said, a little testily.

Raphael smiled shrewdly in response, his gaze drifting over your form. “I returned to my home to find Haarlep in your form, lounging naked in my pool.”

“Ah.”

“Indeed.”

You wracked your brains, trying to remember if you’d felt anything like the sensual tingle Haarlep had hinted at when he made love in your form. You hadn’t felt it yet…which meant Raphael hadn’t taken advantage of Haarlep’s conquest.  Yet.

“I am ever the gentleman.”  Raphael’s honeyed voice dripped irony, seeming to read your thoughts. “And in that vein, I indeed promised you a dinner to celebrate our victory.”

You rallied quickly, tucking into the food with the eagerness of one who is famished. “Speaking of veins, wait until you hear what happened with Astarion.”

Raphael listened, intent and focused as he always was whenever you spoke with him. The topic of your exchange with Haarlep seemed momentarily shelved, though you knew there was no chance of it being forgotten.

Raphael chortled in his familiar way, close-mouthed and smug, as you finished regaling him with the latest events. “What a quaint image. You revel at last in the success of your intrepid adventures, some more fruitful than others.”

“I’m satisfied.” You took another small bite of the roasted meat and sipped the wine.

Raphael peered at you, evidently not interested in eating. “Truly?  How unlike you.”

“You presume to know me?”  

“Better than most.”  Raphael answered, that damnable smile back on his face. “To illustrate this fact…Haarlep, join us.”

Slinking out from the shadows of a marble column walked Haarlep, you felt a jolt of dread at seeing the incubus wearing your naked form brazenly. Haarlep caught your eye, smiled widely, and did a little twirl to show off all your assets.

You sank down into your chair, mortified.

“Come.”  Raphael beckoned for Haarlep to straddle his lap and the incubus hopped merrily aboard.

“I can feel our little hero’s lust from here.”  Haarlep purred, taking Raphael’s ear between their teeth as they looked at you through your own eyes. “Delicious, and oh so familiar.”  Haarlep maintained teasing eye contact with you as their hands drifted down, giving you a torturous show.

You saw Raphael’s movements, saw Haarlep throw their head back in exaggerated pleasure, Raphael’s teeth scraping across the exposed throat that should be yours.

“I was in the middle of quite serious negotiations, pet, when you decided to take advantage of my body.”  Raphael gripped the soft flesh of Haarlep’s bottom, and you felt the corresponding touch echo ghostlike across your own skin. “I experienced everything.”

A rush of heated arousal awakened in the pit of your stomach; you squeezed your thighs together. Raphael’s eyes were drawn to the movement. He smiled. “Yes, I was quite aware, though I could only guess as to who soiled my bed.  It was irksome, a distraction from my business.”

Raphael slowly turned more of his attention to Haarlep and left you feeling frustrated and cold.  You felt only a hint, not nearly enough to gain release, and you didn’t dare touch yourself.

Haarlep cooed and giggled in your voice, your ears burned to hear such lewd sounds.

Only when Haarlep began riding Raphael in earnest did your resolve finally break. “Raphael, please.”

Large hands gripped Haarlep’s hips and stilled their movement. “Please what, pet?”

Your pride stilled your tongue.  Raphael chuckled and groaned as Haarlep resumed their bouncing movements. “Such a lovely, supple thing you are.”

“Surely, you don’t want simply a cheap imitation of me.”  You were becoming desperate, and keenly aware he could read right through you.

Haarlep let loose with a particularly loud moan and then placed their fingers to their lips, grinning wickedly at you.

Raphael’s hips began moving in rhythm, his breathing audible. “I could turn the same petulant quip…” He took a deep breath. “…back to you, my dear.”

Damn him.

“I want you.  That’s why I came to your house. I want you, the real you.”

Raphael stilled Haarlep, using his hands to quell their eager movements.  The incubus looked momentarily taken aback, giving Raphael a pout you hoped to never see again upon your face.

Raphael paid them no mind, his hooded gaze finally finding yours. He sat in silence for a long moment then rose to his feet, easily displacing the incubus.

Raphael extended a hand.

“Come to me then.”

[marleyybluu]

Truth or Drink

Pedro Pascal x fem!reader

WC: 1k

A lil quick one

Warnings: alcohol (drink responsibly), age gap (reader is like 30 we’ll say), fluff and flirting.

Look at this cutie

You sat across from him, nothing but smiles on both faces as you stared into each other's souls intensely. His sweet brown eyes wandered your face, fresh out of the makeup chair and looking stunning as always. You let out a small giggle, you looked down to shuffle your cards of questions. Today was going to be interesting.

The two of you had starred in a romantic comedy that had come out last week and the reviews it was getting had been great so far. The real buzz was the chemistry you two had, tabloids often twisting your innocent hangouts as something more. Pedro wasn't a difficult person to get along with, the vibes had been there since day one. You two clicked almost instantly, it was almost impossible to shoot one scene without one of you breaking character.

You had to admit though, the feelings you had were no longer just platonic. The movie felt all too real and whenever the director yelled cut you were sucked back into reality. Oh, that man could kiss. Lips soft and sweet, gentle and careful with yours as if he was scared to hurt you. There'd been a few times it felt a bit too real, but you didn't mind.

He made your heart race, even now, as he watched you across the table.

Today was another promo video for your movie. You two were doing Truth or Drink for Cut's YouTube channel. They wouldn't normally have well-known actors on their channel but they loved how you two interacted and insisted on a piece of the action. You had seen many of these videos and a lot of them were enjoyable so you were excited to do this, and also happy to get a few shots in. Though you two had some shots the night before.

"Alright, you guys ready?"

The both of you nodded and looked back at each other. The cameraman gave you two the thumbs up, and it didn't take long for you to let out a nervous giggle and quickly apologize for it. Pedro shook his head. "Hi, I'm Pedro Pascal, and this is my unprofessional co-star YN YLN." You sucked your teeth reaching over the small table to hit him in the arm with your cards.

"You can actually start with a shot if you guys would like." One of the producers informed. "Oh really?" Pedro asked, he looked back at you to see that you had already popped the top off of the bottle with tequila and poured it into his shot glass before pouring it into your own. There was juice in a slightly bigger glass as a chaser but you often didn't need it. "Salud." He winked. "Salud." You smiled before clinking and drinking. You sucked in your cheeks and squeezed your eyes as the drink burned your esophagus.

Pedro tapped his cards against the table catching your attention. "You want to go first?"

"Nah, you go." You leaned back in your chair interested to hear what he had written down. He looked down at his cards, a bit nervous about how this was going to go, he would try not to take too many shots for fear he might confess his true feelings on camera. "When they told you would be working with me, were you excited?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, a simple question but that shit-eating grin he had on his face meant it was a cocky question. "I already told you how I felt."

"Yeah but now you have to tell them."

"Yes, Pedro I was excited when they told me that I'd be working with you." You admitted on camera begrudgingly. Pedro's eyes disappeared as he smiled at the camera, your heart fluttered as his contagious emotion spread over to you. You quickly looked down at your cards. "Hm, who's a better acting partner? Me or Oscar Isaac?"

He shook his head repeating the word 'nope.' He was not about to get in trouble with his two friends, he reached over for the bottle and took a shot while you sat there dumbfounded with your mouth agape in amusement and utter shock. "You know what," You looked into the lens. "He only took that shot because he didn't want to hurt your feelings, Oscar."

Pedro snorted before throwing his head back, he quietly hissed as the alcohol burned his throat. You bounced your leg up and down as your eyes focused on the slender of his neck, the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. You groaned internally. "Alright," He started. "Do we have to do boring questions?"

"You can ask anything you want." They reassured. He slowly nodded.

The back and forth continued, and a few more rounds of liquor entered both your systems— the both of you giggly and probably annoying the rest of the crew but you no longer cared. "Do you watch the TikTok edits that people make about you? And does it boost your ego?"

He closed his eyes in defeat. "Yes, I do watch them." He cringed. "Some of them are a little... you know..." Pedro wiggled his brows alluding to the fact that some videos were a little too thirsty. "But I love them all anyway. So thanks, guys."

It was his turn to ask, he cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat. You knew him like the back of your hand, he was nervous but what could he be nervous about? You were just asking each other goofy questions, nothing too weird. Right?

"Okay, am I the best kisser out of all your co-stars?" He asked. You tilted your head, eyes passing between him and the shot glass, wondering if you should say the truth or leave it to the imagination. You nodded your head keeping your lips sealed. "Am I really?"

He sounded almost shocked.

"Yeah, you are."

"No bullshit?"

"No bullshit Pascal."

He made a proud face. "How about out of all your little boyfriends?" Your eyes popped out of your head, he was getting a little too hasty. He watched as you slowly reached over to the bottles, it was quiet as you poured your drink of choice. You looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Yes." You still took your shot pursing your lips and shaking your head as it went down.

He was taken aback, sure he asked the question but he expected you to take a shot instead of actually answering it. You shrugged putting your cards flat on the table. "Same question for you."

At this point the crew let them do what they want, the more natural it looked the better. Pedro shrugged. "Yeah, I'd say you're at the top of the list."

"Oooh, there's a list."

"Of course." He smugged. He tugged on his bottom lip, eyes scanning the entirety of your face. "Have you ever had a crush on a co-star?"

You covered your face, you were really laying everything on the table, in front of these strangers and soon for hundreds of thousands of people to see. "What are you getting at Pascal?"

"I'm just playing the game." He said with that not-so-innocent face. "Yes, I have a crush on a co-star?"

"I said had."

You smirked. "I know."

Now it was his turn to blush, he giggled nervously. "I have a crush on one of my co-stars too."

You turned your head away, you were nothing but a bundle of nerves. Pedro gently kicked you under the table and you returned the favour. Neither of you had any more questions... that could be asked on camera at least. "Well if you'll excuse us..." Pedro proceeded to stand up, he hooked his arm inviting you to wrap yours around it and you did not hesitate.

"We have some things to discuss. Make sure you guys check out our new movie. Byeeeee."

The producers stood there stunned at what just happened while you two skipped off. You could only imagine the response and chaos that this would cause.

I have to get these Pedro fics out of my system yall. I'm off tomorrow so hopefully ill post another one and then after that I'll update based on the poll (go vote if you'd like) if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. Peace and love

[bitethedevil]

Hey bitey! How are you doing? ♡

I know you are not much of a fan of sub!raphael but I would loooove to know your ideas for a reluctant/bratty bottom Raphael actually enjoying being dominated by tav for once hahaha

Hiii. Thank you for the ask <3 I tried. I'm not used to writing Sub!Raphael. It got pretty long.

Beg (NSFW)

Raphael woke up in chains after having been knocked out. It had been no small feat for her to arrange this whole ordeal. It had needed a lot of planning. She had lured him with promise of the Crown of Karsus. What he did not know was that the Crown had already been delivered to Mystra, and that Tav had been snooping through his house. She had found out that he had a spare pair of Infernal chains like those that held Prince Orpheus, and she still had the Orphic Hammer. She had freed Hope and then hatched a plan to tie up this unfortunate loose end of hers.

She saw the first signs of him waking up. She heard a low groan. She saw his tail twitch and his wings moving ever so slightly. She had the decency to place him in a chair rather than just letting him dangle from the chains. He raised his head from his slumped over position. His yellow eyes looked at her with clear hatred when he saw her and realized his predicament. She smiled brightly at him from a chair opposite from him. Despite his situation, he kept his composure remarkably well and kept calm. He glanced at the chains, and she saw his jaw clench before he looked back at her.

“Would you kindly explain what in the Nine Hells do you think you are doing?” he said in a low voice. “This was not what we agreed upon, mouse.”

She couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle. It was amazing how even when he was so clearly beaten, he refused to acknowledge it. It was admirable in it’s own way, if not a bit pathetic.

“You’re right,” she said with a cheerful tone. “I believe that we agreed that I either give you the Crown of Karsus or you get my soul. Something along those lines, right? There is just this tiny little problem, Raphael.”

He looked at her with a bored expression.

“I’ve sort of…” she said and gestured as if trying to find the right words. “Sort of changed my mind, I suppose. All this ‘nearly becoming illithid’-mess have given me a whole new appreciation for my soul, you see. I don’t want you to have it.”

His nose wrinkled in disdain, but he forced a smile.

“That should be no matter of concern,” he said calmly. “As long as you hand me the Crown, of course.”

She leaned back and drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair.

“Hm, yes, well,” she said. “About that… I gave it to Mystra.”

The calm façade cracked right then and there. It was like his eyes were ablaze.

“You insolent little—”

“Oh, we are not doing that,” she laughed and flicked her wrist.

She used her magic to conjure a piece of thick fabric that wrapped itself around his mouth, effectively gagging him.

“Here is what we are going to do though,” she said and got up from her chair, the sound of her boots on the floor and the rustle of him squirming against the chains filling the room. “You are going to agree to annul my contract.”

She tapped on the chains around his wrists. His hand shot out to grab her, but the chains held him back.

“Then I will free you from these, when you have shown me that you can behave, and I am convinced you won’t try to do something stupid. You can even have your hammer back too if you want, since I am feeling in a generous mood today. Nod if you understand.”

He did not agree. There came a low growl from him instead. His eyes were filled with just as much anger as before. Tav didn’t feel particularly patient. It had been a very long day. She kicked the chair away from under him, so he fell to his knees. He was on his knees in front of her and it was a very satisfying sight. She grabbed his face, her nails digging into his cheeks.

“Or I could just kill you,” she said with a shrug, staring into his eyes. “It might take some time but I’m sure you won’t put up much of a fight given your current state.”

He pulled his head away from her grasp. She grabbed his hair instead and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t think I won’t,” she said firmly. “The debtors, Gortash, Hope… I like you, Raphael, but you have a lot of skeletons in your closet, and it would be better for my consciousness to simply end you here and now.”

Something changed in his eyes. It was difficult to pinpoint what exactly, but there was something. She looked him over, simply basking in the view for a moment. This persistent bastard who had followed them around and flaunted his superiority at every given opportunity, was now on his knees, at her mercy. Her eyes landed on his lap where there was a not-so-discreet bulge in his pants. His eyes followed hers and then he looked up at her. She raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting reaction…” she said.

His eyes narrowed at her, and he let out another annoyed growl. She smiled brightly at him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Did you want to say something?”

She slipped a finger under the fabric wrapped around his mouth and pulled it down.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said with a sneer. “As for your contract and the terms for—”

“Oh, no no,” she said and put a finger to his lips. “Let’s put a pin in that for a moment. I am much more interested in what’s going on here right now.”

She gestured to his lap with her other hand. He surprised her by snapping his teeth at the finger pressed to his mouth. She moved it away just in time. Her eyes lit up in amusement before she slapped him hard across the face for the gesture. His eyes widened and fury washed over his features for a moment, as if he could not believe her audacity. His cock seemed to be of another opinion as it only seemed to strain even more against the fabric of his pants. Her head was flooded with ideas to turn this to her advantage. Her smile got wider.

“Tell me more about the contract,” she said.

“Why would I annul it when I am in my right to claim what you have freely handed over to me?” he asked calmly, though she could hear that he was somewhat more distracted than before. “Your feeble-minded actions lead you—”

He let out a small breath when she placed her boot on his thigh, pressing the tip of it against his erection. The way his hips jerked involuntarily to feel more friction did not go unnoticed.

“You are playing with fire, my dear,” he grumbled and looked up at her.

“Mm…” she hummed in a delighted tone and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Please continue.”

His eyes followed the movement of her hands with a hungry gaze and his hips jerked once again. She applied slightly more pressure with her boot, making him hold back a groan.

“Killing me will not get you what you want,” he explained, his voice a bit breathier than before. “In the case the drafter of the contract dies, the soul will still go to the Hells. The only difference is that it will instead go to the Archdevil who ruled over said drafter.”

“Fascinating,” she said and threw her shirt on the ground. “But?”

“But what?” he asked. “Which part of this is confusing to you? I will not annul your contract. I have no reason to do so. You did not fulfill it, so your soul is mine.”

She discarded her bra too. It became increasingly hard for him to keep his eyes on hers instead of on her bare skin. She untied her pants too.

“I’m afraid that simply won’t do,” she said.

She removed her foot from his crotch to take off the rest of her clothes.

“My dear, it is awfully kind of you to give me a show,” he said in that smooth voice of his, pretending to be uninterested. “But I was alive long before your great grandparents were but a twinkle in their fathers’ eyes. There is nothing to find under those distasteful scraps of clothing of yours that I have not seen before, and it will not sway me to give you what you want.”

She smiled at him and made a show of keeping eye contact with him as she bent over to slide down her panties. She threw those on the floor too. She was standing completely naked in front of him. Despite how much he wanted to act like it did not affect him, he still struggled to keep his eyes on her face. She walked closer to him until she was standing right in front of him, looking down at him. She saw how his nostrils flared as he discreetly tried to take in the scent of her sex now that it was so close to his face.

“We’ll see about that,” she said with a smile. “What do you want, Raphael?”

She crouched down so that they were face to face. She kept looking at him as she began unbuttoning his doublet and the shirt under it.

“You know what I want,” he said. “You have given what I want to a goddess who will only squander its potential.”

His eyes looked almost completely black with the way his pupils were dilated. She pulled the fabrics aside so she could see his chest.

“Yes, yes,” she said. “But you must want other things too, no? I think you once told me that greed was your favorite virtue.”

She ran her hand down the length of his chest until she got to the ties of his pants. She untied them and pulled them down to reveal his painfully hard cock. There were already beads of precum dripping from the tip.

“I want many things, my dear,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

“Mm,” she said and ran a finger up his shaft, making his breath hitch. “Though something in particular in this moment, I’d wager. Tell me what it is, and I might give you what you want. I expect something in return, though.”

She stroked him and ran her thumb over a particularly sensitive spot at his tip, making his hips jerk. He growled.

“If it is your intention to make me beg, I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you,” he said.

She smiled at him

“Wrong answer,” she said and let go of him.

She stood up. She positioned herself in front of him and grabbed one of his horns. She slung her leg over his shoulder and yanked his head back so that he was looking up at her.

“You will not want to know what I’ll do to you if you decide to try and bite me again,” she warned before shoving his face into her cunt.

Despite the small grunt of protest as she did so, she could tell that he was into it. She felt his nose against her clit, and she could hear how he was breathing in the scent of her. He angled his face so that he could be even closer. She looked at the chains as he yanked at them, desperate to touch her too. His forked tongue was eagerly tasting her. He growled against her, the rumble of it feeling amazing.

“You are surprisingly good at this,” she said between soft moans. “Especially considering you’ve only been fucking a copy of yourself for gods know how long…”

He looked up at her from between her legs with a pointed look.

“Yes, I’ve met Haarlep,” she said with a smile.

He licked a stripe up her slit and then turned his head slightly to bite her inner thigh for the comment. It was a firm bite that would probably leave a mark. She yanked his horn.

“Ah-ah,” she warned firmly. “What did I say?”

She could feel him smirk against her before he buried his wonderfully long tongue inside her again, making her moan. She ran her fingers through his hair with her free hand.

“Very good,” she praised. “Much better.”

His cock twitched at her praise, and he buried his face even deeper into her cunt. Honestly, had she known before hand that it was this easy to shut him up, she would have done it much earlier. It did not take long before she was about to fall over the edge. Raphael knew and eagerly tried to push her over it with his tongue. She held onto his jagged horns and almost lost her balance when she came hard on his face. He made a sinful slurping noise as if to taste as much of her wetness as possible before pulling his face away from her.

“Very, very good,” she praised and looked down at his cock that was leaking with precum. “Do you feel like begging yet?”

He was a sight. His face was glistening with her juices, his hair disheveled as he looked up at her with dark eyes.

“I don’t beg,” he said, though his tone seemed less strong in its conviction than earlier.

She leaned down to his face. His dark eyes followed every movement. They flicked down to her mouth as she licked some of her own juices off the corner of his mouth. He turned his face to catch her lips, but she moved away with a smile. He smiled too.

“Oh, the things I plan to do to you when I am out of these chains…” he growled.

“Mm,” she hummed amused. “I guess we will never know if you keep being so stubborn.”

She lowered herself to sit on his lap. He adjusted himself and spread his legs slightly so she could sit there. She wrapped her arms around his neck and positioned herself so she could grind herself against his cock. He bucked his hips against her. Her hand quickly grabbed his hair and yanked.

“No,” she warned and leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “You get nothing before I hear you beg for it.”

He groaned in frustration. She slowly moved her hips, spreading her wetness over his cock as his shaft pressed against her slit. His breathing became shallower, and his hips bucked again. She tightened her grip on his hair and bit his earlobe firmly.

“Beg,” she purred into his ear.

“Please,” he growled grudgingly.

“Oh, you can do better than that, surely,” she said. “Please what?”

Another frustrated growl.

“Please, let me come inside of you,” he said.

“Much better,” she said. “Very good. And you will annul my contract?”

Her hand snaked between them, and she positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. She lowered herself onto it, making him growl deeply into her ear. She took all of him, but she did not move just yet. She was waiting for an answer.

“Surely we can wait to speak of such matters until after,” he said with just a tiny hint of pleading in his voice.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” she said. “I need an answer now.”

He did not answer. She made a move to get off him and he strained against his restrains.

“Fine, fine,” he said hurriedly. “I will annul your contract, you insufferable whelp. Just—”

He fell quiet and a small moan escaped him as she slid down on his cock again. She smiled and began riding him at a slow pace. He groaned deeply in pleasure.

“Do you promise?” she asked.

“I always keep my word,” he groaned. “Unlike someone else I know.”

He leaned forward to kiss her neck. She let him. The second she felt his teeth wanting to mark her, she moved just out of reach. Her smile widened as she teased him.

“Enjoy this little sliver of power over me while you can, mouse,” he warned. “I can promise you that it ends the moment you let me out of these chains, and you best hope you can outrun me, or I will chain you to my bed and make you pay me back tenfold for all of this.”

She rode him faster, making him moan deeply. No matter how much he pretended to hate not being in control, his body told a whole different story. She yanked his head back to bite and suck at his neck. His breathing got even more out of control. He was getting close.

“Do you want to cum inside me?” she purred into his ear.

“Yes,” he breathed without hesitation.

“Beg,” she said.

“Please,” he pleaded, a hint of fear that she would stop what she was doing if he did not. “Please—”

He finally came with a deep groan. She felt his hips buck against her, burying himself in her as he came deep inside her. It took a while for his breathing to become steady again. She got off him. She admired how absolutely ruined he looked with his disheveled appearance as she put on her clothes. How his shirt was open and how his used cock was resting against his pants, glistening from their combined juices. It was exceedingly satisfying to see the usually prim and proper devil looking like such an utter mess.

She grabbed the Orphic Hammer from her bag and smashed his chains. He rubbed his wrists and then got up from the ground. He ran a hand through his hair and stuffed his cock back in his pants before adjusting the rest of his clothing. She smiled at him.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” she said with a mock bow. “I trust you’ll keep your word with my contract, like you promised.”

She handed him the hammer. He took it and snapped his fingers, making it disappear in a flash of flames.

“Oh, I will,” he said, looking at her with a dangerous smile. “Once I am done with you, like I promised. I will even give you a head start, since I am feeling in a generous mood today,” he said, repeating the same words she had used earlier. “You better start running, little mouse.”