#(i mean of course it's not perfect. but it's VERY far from bad

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

This Wasn’t in the Contract

Word Count: 1,6k

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: When a gossip account claims Lando Norris has a secret girlfriend, he jokingly confirms it—except he names you, his childhood best friend, as his mysterious partner. Now, you’re stuck fake-dating the most unserious man on the grid.

________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: A Joke Gone Too Far

You weren’t the type to start your day by checking celebrity gossip, but apparently, you should have been.

Because if you had, maybe you wouldn’t have woken up to 237 unread messages and a phone call from your mother screaming, “HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME YOU’RE DATING LANDO?!”

“…What?” Your brain was still booting up, barely processing her words as you squinted at the sunlight streaming through your blinds.

“Don’t play dumb! It’s all over Twitter! ‘Lando Norris soft-launches secret girlfriend!’”

That got your attention. You bolted upright, nearly knocking your laptop off the bed. “Lando did what?”

“I don’t know, you tell me! Did you think I wouldn’t find out? The neighbors are texting me about it! The neighbors!”

You barely heard her as you scrolled through your phone, your heart pounding. Sure enough, there it was—a blurry paparazzi photo of Lando, looking suspiciously happy as he walked through Monaco. The caption?

Lando Norris spotted out with mystery girlfriend. Who is she?

Well, it’s not me, that’s for sure.

But the real problem wasn’t the article. No, the problem was the Twitter chaos that followed.

@F1TeaSpill: Lando Norris has a secret girlfriend… my life is over.

@WAGwatch: McLaren’s golden boy is TAKEN. The girl remains unknown, but sources say they’ve been dating for months.

And then, the worst part.

A verified tweet from Lando himself.

@LandoNorris: Fine, you caught me. It’s Y/n. We wanted to keep it private, but oh well.

You stared at the screen in horror.

“…I’m going to kill him.”

Your mom gasped. “I knew you were dating! My baby girl is in love!”

You hung up.

________________________________________________________

Chapter 2: How to Accidentally Get a Girlfriend

It took exactly four angry phone calls and one very aggressive Uber ride to track Lando down at his apartment. The second he opened the door, you shoved your phone in his face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Lando blinked at you, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He was still in his pajamas—a McLaren hoodie and boxers, because of course he was. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

You ignored him, scrolling aggressively through Twitter. “Did you—did you seriously just announce to the entire world that we’re dating?!”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, so, hear me out—”

“No.”

“—I thought it would be funny.”

You took a deep breath. Counted to five. “You thought it would be funny?”

“In my defense, it was funny.”

You smacked his arm. “Lando!”

“OW—okay, okay, look!” He took a step back, holding up his hands. “There was this dumb article saying I had a secret girlfriend, and people wouldn’t shut up about it. So I thought, why not have a little fun? I didn’t think people would actually believe me!”

You stared at him, unamused. “Lando. You have millions of followers. Of course they believed you!”

“…Oh.”

“Oh?”

He winced. “I mean… in hindsight, yeah, that makes sense.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “This is so bad. My mom thinks it’s real. People are probably stalking my Instagram as we speak!”

Lando hesitated. “So… what if we just roll with it?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He grinned, that signature cheeky smile that meant he was about to say something very stupid. “Think about it! We fake date for a while, mess with the media, then ‘break up’ later. It’s the perfect plan.”

You scoffed. “Perfect for who?”

“Both of us!” He threw an arm around your shoulders, ignoring the way you stiffened. “You get clout, I get people off my back about my dating life, and—bonus!—we get to mess with the internet. Win-win-win.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. “That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“…But?”

“…But it would be kinda funny.”

He gasped. “So you’ll do it?”

You sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine. One month. That’s it.”

Lando beamed. “Deal. Now, let’s get to work.

You frowned. “Work?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Time for our first ‘couple’ Instagram post.”

You were already regretting this.

________________________________________________________

Chapter 3: The ‘Soft Launch’ Debacle

If someone had told you that by noon, you’d be sitting on Lando’s couch with him hovering over you, analyzing potential Instagram captions for your fake couple post, you would have laughed in their face.

Yet, here you were.

“This one’s good,” Lando said, showing you his phone.

You squinted at it. ‘My ride or die. ❤️’

“No,” you said flatly.

He pouted. “Why not? It’s cute!”

“It’s cringe.”

Lando rolled his eyes, flopping onto the couch beside you. “Fine. What about—‘Finally caught myself a podium-worthy girl’?”

You stared at him. “Lando.”

“Yes, love?”

“Shut up.”

He burst into laughter, nearly falling off the couch. “Come on, Y/n, help me out here! We need to be convincing.”

You sighed. “Can’t we just post a normal picture?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “We need romance. We need passion.”

“We need therapy,” you muttered.

But you gave in. Because somehow, against all logic, you’d agreed to this stupid fake-dating scheme. You allowed Lando to take a selfie of the two of you, his arm slung around your shoulders, his grin wide and cheeky while you tried not to look like you wanted to strangle him.

Fifteen minutes later, it was live.

@LandoNorris: She said yes. ❤️

“…Lando,” you said slowly.

“Hmm?”

“This makes it sound like we’re engaged.”

“Oops.”

“Oops?!”

But it was too late. Twitter had already exploded.

@F1GossipGirl: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE SAID YES??

@McLarenFan4Life: Engaged. ENGAGED. I need a moment.

@Y/nDefender: okay but if y/n makes him less of a menace on the track i support it

You groaned. “You suck.”

Lando, completely unbothered, smirked. “Oh, fiancée, you wound me.”

You were going to kill him.

________________________________________________________

Chapter 4: McLaren is Concerned

The next day, you made a mistake.

You agreed to physically show up at McLaren’s HQ with Lando.

You should have known it was a bad idea when, the second you stepped inside, his PR manager spotted you and immediately looked stressed.

“Lando.” The poor man looked like he hadn’t slept since 2018. “Care to explain?”

Lando, ever the picture of innocence, grinned. “Explain what?”

The PR manager sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The engagement. The internet meltdown. The sponsorship offers from wedding brands.”

You choked. “Wait—what?”

Lando just laughed. “People love love, mate.”

The PR manager turned to you, exasperated. “Are you really engaged?”

You opened your mouth to deny it—

“She doesn’t like labels,” Lando cut in smoothly, throwing an arm around your waist.

You resisted the urge to shove him into a wall.

“…Right.” The PR manager didn’t look convinced. “Well, just… keep it under control, okay? We don’t need another Daniel Ricciardo social media incident.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but judging by the way Lando immediately sobered up, it was serious.

“Got it,” Lando said, suddenly obedient.

You made a mental note to ask Daniel about that later.

________________________________________________________

Chapter 5: Paparazzi and Near-Death Experiences

Two weeks into the fake-dating scheme, things escalated.

First, the paparazzi started following you everywhere. Which was fine—except for the fact that Lando used this as an opportunity to be an absolute menace.

“Y/n, darling,” he said loudly one day outside a café, dramatically pulling you into a dip like you were in a bad rom-com.

You struggled in his grip. “Put me down before I punch you.”

“Ah, my sweet, violent love,” he sighed.

The cameras loved it.

Then, there was the incident with the McLaren team barbecue.

The entire grid had been invited, which meant you were subjected to hours of hearing Max and Charles tease Lando about his ‘wife.’

“She must be an angel to put up with you,” Max had joked, sipping his drink.

“I’m a delight,” Lando shot back.

You, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to blush when Charles leaned over and whispered, “I think he actually likes you.”

Which was ridiculous. Obviously. Right?

Right.

(Then Lando draped his jacket over you later that night when it got cold, and you started questioning everything.)

________________________________________________________

Chapter 6: The Fake Breakup Plan

By the third week, you and Lando had a problem.

Your parents—who had never once taken anything you did on the internet seriously—fully believed you were dating.

Which wouldn’t have been a big deal, except now your entire family wanted to meet Lando.

“My mom keeps asking if we’re doing a destination wedding,” you hissed one evening, pacing around Lando’s apartment.

He snorted. “Tell her I’m thinking Monaco.”

“Lando, focus!”

He grinned. “Relax. We’ll just fake a breakup.”

You paused. “…How?”

“Easy.” He leaned back, stretching. “I’ll cheat on you.”

You nearly choked on air. “Excuse me?!”

“Not really,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We’ll stage something. Maybe I get ‘caught’ with a model or something.”

You frowned. “…We could just say we broke up because we realized we’re better as friends.”

He stared at you. “Where’s the drama in that?”

“You love drama.”

“I live for it,” he agreed.

You groaned. “Fine. But no cheating scandal. We’ll figure something else out.”

Lando pouted. “Boring.”

You ignored him, but deep down, a tiny part of you was unreasonably annoyed at the thought of him fake-dating someone else.

Which was dumb. Because this wasn’t real.

Right?

Right.

…Shit.

________________________________________________________

Chapter 7: When Fake Starts Feeling Real

Somewhere along the line, you stopped noticing when Lando reached for your hand in public.

You stopped flinching when he casually draped an arm around your shoulders.

And you definitely didn’t mind when he pulled you into his side during movie nights, letting you steal his hoodie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was fake. You knew that.

But then, one night, he looked at you—really looked at you—and said softly, “You know, I think I’d actually marry you.”

And for the first time, you didn’t have a comeback.

[metalomagnetic]

Canon Marauders meet Fanon Marauders

“I will kill him, James. I simply have to kill him. It’s a duty at this point,” Sirius whispers, at breakfast. 

James is morally opposed to murder, to say the least, but now when he opens his mouth to automatically tell Sirius he can’t kill people, the Abomination walks into the Great Hall, and James closes his mouth, with a sigh. 

He condones it. 

“Can you kill me, too, please?” Remus asks, as he watches his counterpart walk behind the Abomination. 

“Oh, come on! The Other You isn’t so bad.” 

“They’re all bad,” Peter mutters. “Just unbearable to watch.” 

They’ve only arrived in this cursed universe the day before, but it’s already too much to suffer. 

When Sirius met this universe’ version of himself, he had to be restrained from committing unspeakable violence. 

“What’s with the pranks?” James wonders. “Look, they’ve only just entered the Hall and they’ve already pulled a few pranks.” 

“You call those pranks?” Sirius sneers. “Those lame jokes?” 

“They probably take the ‘prankster’ label too seriously,” Peter bemoans. “And I’m missing again. It’s like I don’t even exist here, like those guys forget I’m their best friend.” 

After the Other Sirius, Other Peter was done the dirtiest. He’s much uglier than the real one, far shorter, and so stupid Sirius thinks he shouldn’t even be allowed to attend school. 

Not that Other Sirius is smart- oh, no. Other Sirius is a moron, apparently allergic to books. 

Remus got an upgrade- he’s now a wise genius to rival Dumbledore, and he spends his days giving people chocolate frogs.

It’s a wonder the Abomination is so thin, with how much chocolate he’s getting from Other Remus. 

So thin and short. 

“Why am I short?” Sirius growls. “I don’t know mate, it’s like the creator of this universe misremembered our heights and switched them around,” Remus offers, watching his other self, a very tall bastard. He’s even taller than Real Sirius. 

Outrageous. 

“I could suffer you short,” James says. “But look at him, he’s - why is he so…is that ...nail polish? Gods, what have they done to my Sirius!” 

“I asked him if he still has the bike,” Peter whispers. “He said he does, but I mean- he’s so fragile and dainty, how does he even manage that monster bike?” 

Sirius shakes his head in horror. “I have to kill him, there’s no way around it.” 

The Other Sirius whines in the distance. “MOOOOONY,” he pouts, and that's it, Sirius stands-

“Not here,” James pulls him by his sleeve. “You can’t have witnesses.” 

(-)

It takes them a few days to figure out what’s wrong with Other James. At a first glance, he looked normal, compared to the others. Almost unchanged from his real version, if only stupider. But not as stupid as Other Sirius and Other Peter, of course. 

A chicken wouldn’t be dumber than those guys. 

When they do figure it out, James throws up. 

“There, there,” Sirius pats his back. “Breathe, mate. Breathe.” 

“I’m fucking your brother! Your brother, Sirius!” 

“Oh, no, that is not my brother. That is Other Brother.” 

This version of Regulus is apparently not a bigot at all, it’s all just a big misunderstanding. He’s an Animagus, too, somehow. 

Sirius actually thinks Other Regulus is an alright lad- nothing like his brother, mind you, but alright, in general. 

James throws up again. “Me! With Regulus Black! I’m not even gay! I love Lily, and she loves me-” 

“Well, apparently she’s gay, too, in this world.” Remus says, which only makes James cry.

That isn’t so bad, really. Many things are wrong with this universe, but Lily and Dorcas look hot together. Sirius had a wank thinking of them the other night. It’s fine, he tells himself. He’s not betraying James. This Lily is nothing like their Lily back home. This one is like a goddess of beauty here, hair far more vibrant than the Real one, flawless skin and overall perfect in everything she does. Extremely selfless, saint-like, to the point she apparently offered to carry Regulus’ and James’ baby after Hogwarts.

Real Lily would hate her. 

She’s still not worse than Other Sirius. Nothing is worse than that. Real Sirius has taken to bullying Other Sirius, daily. Hourly. The Abomination whines about it to Other Remus all the time. 

“I want a word,” Other Remus hulks over, ridiculously muscular and, for some reason, with scars on his face. 

What the fuck happened to this bloke? Who even is he?

Real Remus slinks back. He was never one for confrontations, their Remus, but apparently this upgraded version is all up for it. 

“Listen,” Sirius tells him, because he doesn’t hate the man- sure, he’s not Remus, but he seems like a nice lad. “Why do you put up with that insufferable drama queen? He deserves to hang, and you deserve better.” 

“That’s my baby! That’s my Pads,” Other Remus says, suddenly all violent, his eyes turn yellow- what the actual fuck? 

But Sirius is already nauseous, stomach turning as soon as he heard ‘baby’ and ‘Pads”  coming out of his mouth. 

Real Remus cheers from the sidelines as Sirius wipes the floor with Other Remus. The Abomination cries somewhere in the distance, all helpless, until Real James hits him over the head with a candlestick. Other James is too busy sucking Other Regulus’ face to notice anything. 

(-)

Other Snape has a split personality, as if someone out there can’t decide if he’s evil reincarnate or a mewling, innocent boy. 

It’s jarring to see the shifts, day to day, and Sirius doesn’t know which version he hates more. 

He never thought he’d miss Snape, but he does. He misses their Snape, gods damn it, the Real one. 

(-)

He finds out his parents- or at least his parents in this world- torture Other Sirius on a daily basis. With the Cruciatus, even. 

Other Regulus tells him this, all traumatised. 

“Well,” Sirius says, shocked to the core. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it. “To be fair, if I had a son like the Abomination, I’d torture, him, too.” 

(-)

Dumbledore is Evil. But stupidly so. Even a random eleven year old saw through his evil plans and humiliated Dumbledore at breakfast. Some smart arse kid, who’s apparently Lord Potter Black Gaunt Slytherin, and talks like an eighty year old politician. Apparently Dumbledore stole his money or something. 

“I wonder how Other Voldemort is like,” James says, anxious to consider it. 

“I don’t even care,” Peter says. “We should join him. It’s either him, or siding with these lunatics.” 

They all nod in agreement. Voldemort can’t be worse- nothing can be worse than Other Sirius and Evil Stupid Dumbledore.  

(-)

There’s two Voldemorts. 

One is practically a ‘cartoon character’ Remus says. Sirius has no idea what that means.

This Voldemort is Ridiculously Evil. 

Insane Bellatrix is his most loyal. For some reason Insane Bellatrix cackles all the time, and mutters about blood and the Cruciatus under her breath. She’s also dressed like a slut. 

Real Bella, like the aristocrat she is, would never be caught looking like that in public. 

Sirius takes her aside to have a few words with her, and then he finds out apparently she, too, was tortured daily by her parents, like Other Sirius. 

“And raped,” she remembers, with a shrug.  

Wow, and Sirius thought the Real versions of the Blacks were bad, but these people take the fucking cake. 

If the Real Blacks would find out what these Other Blacks are doing to their children, there’ll be hell to pay. 

His mum is a right basket case back in his world, insufferable and cruel with her words, unreasonably strict, but if she’d ever find out another version of herself is torturing her children- why, she’d cut that bitch in pieces. 

(-)

The second Other Voldemort is some misunderstood good guy with a sob story. He whines about his tragic childhood as much as Other Sirius. 

At least this Other Voldemort is still tall, unlike Other Sirius. 

“It’s all Dumbledore’s fault,” he ends a monologue. “He made me do all I did. Or-” he checks a list. “Apparently sometimes he simply framed me and I didn’t do anything at all. Also, you can call me Tom, in private,” he invites them. 

It’s a tragic state of affairs. 

They decide to join Ridiculously Evil Voldemort, simply because he’s the only one that wouldn't protest to murdering everyone. He talks about murder every single day, and Sirius promises him he’ll do anything If he’s allowed to kill Other Sirius. 

“Oh, by the way, you should deal with Good Guy Voldemort.” 

“With who?” 

“You know, the hotter you, the one that’s innocent of all wrongs and calls himself Tom.” 

Evil Voldemort has a heart attacks and dies. 

(-)

They’re on the run from everyone in that crazy world, when a hooded figure enters their tent.  

“Is it you? Is it really you?” the man asks. “Potter? Black? Lupin? Pettigrew?’ 

“Yes, it’s us.” 

The person lowers his hood. It’s Snape. Real Snape. With greasy hair and a large nose, but with intelligent, sharp eyes.

There’s no ‘Victim’ stamped on his forehead, nor is he an evil arrogant bastard, like the Other Snape.

“Fuck, Snivellus! A sane person! I could hug you!” 

“I’d rather not,” Snape spits at James. “Alas, I am...relieved to have found you. We need to work together. I came here after you-” 

“Of course you did, you berk! You were stalking us, as usually, weren’t you?” 

“Yes,” Snape says, unashamed. “I killed the Other me.” 

“Good job. I killed the Other me, too,” Sirius boasts. “I took my time with him.” 

“I killed Other Lily,” Snape says. “She had to go. She was all ...wrong.” 

James sniffles. “She was.” 

And then they all sit down, and plan how to kill Good Guy Voldemort and Evil Stupid Dumbledore. 

[lucidfairies]

— prey

synopsis: 1 Corinthians 6:18 states that one must flee from sexual immortality, but it's hard to flee from something that is forever chasing you.

pairing: priest!sevika x semi-religious!reader

warnings: religion as part of the main plot, fun mix of Catholic branches, age gap, light angst at the end, bottom!reader, top!sevika, virgin!reader for religious reasons, perv!sevika, massive corruption kink, mean!sev, pet names (little lamb, lamb, pretty, baby), hand/arm kink, humiliation kink, praise kink, reader masturbation mentioned, pillow humping mentioned, cunnilingus, fingering, fucking in a church, degradation, sub headspace if you squint, spanking, pussy slaps, crying, eating it from the back + through panties

wc: 7.7k

a/n: please read the disclaimer that has already been published! all the thanks in the world to my girl @sevsgiirl ❤ they helped me so so much per usual and I'm their biggest fan.l

Oh forgive me if I love being bad for you.

Your mama always said that being good would get you to far, far places. She said that every man and every job and every opportunity admired a good woman. And so, you were. You were the perfect, thriving, glowing definition of good. Stunning grades, sports, church on Sunday. You talked to God like he was your best friend, and for a time, he was. She was right, too. People did admire you for your perfection. But it wasn’t long before the cracks started shining a bit brighter, and you realized that maybe this wasn’t the life for you.

“You be safe, okay?” Your mom rubbed her hands down your arms, pulling you in for a tight hug. “Oh, I don’t want to let you go!” She squeezed harder, holding you there like a lifeline. “Now listen, I already called some friends in town and of course, prayed over your new apartment. God is watching, he’s here with you-”

“Mom,” you interjected. “I know. I’m an adult, I’m ready for this. I’ll be just fine.” Her eyes welled with tears, pulling you back into a hug. Your dad walked over, wiping his hands on his pants and smiling. He was finished loading the car, which meant that you had a steady escape from your mother’s spiraling.

“Well, time to send you off, kiddo.” He opened his arms and you attached from your velcro mom, shifting your attention to your father. He didn’t squeeze you like it would keep you here, he held you and let you go, knowing that it was time. “Bye sweetheart, we love you.” You waved to the both of them as you got in the car, wasting no time before clicking your seatbelt in and driving off. This was it.

Your parents' relationship with religion wasn’t one that you saw very frequently. None of your other friends had parents that obsessed over your entire life, always dragging you back to God. Not even your friends from church. They used God to tell you what to say, how to dress, how to act. Everything was done in the eyes of God, and at times, it was crushing.

So, when your Mother texted you the name of a priest she knew in your new town, you swiped away the notification and let it sit in your inbox for weeks. You were convinced that, if you ignored it, you wouldn’t live a life that they controlled any longer. Even after you turned eighteen, went to the local college, made new friends. They still had a full hold on everything you did. Now, five hours away, you were free!

Your first day in town you wore a crop top - one that your mother took from you and hid in her closet years ago. She made you pray for days and ask God for forgiveness for something so sinful, so immodest. You felt terrible afterwards, and only wore things that covered everything but your wrists and ankles, absolutely convinced that you betrayed God with the shirt. But it didn’t, and it wasn’t, and when you wore it then, it fit you well, made you feel pretty.

God, did you feel so free.

Your mother checked in on your daily, but you only replied to a handful of them. When you told them that you had plans to move to the gayest part of the country, they all but freaked out, sure that you would come home transgender, or worse, gay. What on earth were they to do with a gay daughter? It wasn’t God’s commandment to be gay, and the thought of you as a gay had your mother’s mind spinning. You were sure you saw her life flash before her eyes when you told them.

You wouldn’t pretend that the town was out of your comfort zone. There were so many people compared to your small town, you couldn’t even understand how so many people lived in the same place. That being said, it felt, to you, like everyone was a model. There were so many faces that you had never seen before, so many identities and styles.

It wasn’t until the end of your first month that you ran into your first problem.

You found a coffee shop that you enjoyed, and began frequenting it. But, when they hired a new, tall, buff, female barista, you found yourself there more often than not. You were undeniably drawn to her, found yourself thinking of her when you shouldn’t be and striking up conversation with her like some kind of lovestruck fool.

Then, of course, the thoughts began creeping in. Terrible thoughts, about her voice and her arms and her fingers. All while you did terrible things to yourself - with God watching. You were screwed. The woman lived in your mind all the time, everywhere you went and everything you did. Every night before you went to bed, thoughts driven by lust guided you. You knew then that you would have to take your mother up on her priest offer.

The church was large, on the outskirts of the city. It had beautiful panels and stained glass windows that light poured through gorgeously. You followed the line of people, joining them in waiting to confess. Even if you had never been to this church or knew these people, they were kind to you. You had to tell someone, and if a priest that your mother heard was good had to be it, then she was it.

The booth was cramped when you stepped in and took your seat. You face forward, as one does, and placed your hands in your lap, waiting. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession,” you started, “I’ve never been to this church, and I’m new in town. I… I’ve been struggling with some lustful thoughts.. about women,” the words felt like dirt coming out of your mouth.

“Go on,” the priest spoke, and the voice was warm and thick and held you there like honey.

“Well, I haven’t exactly acted on them, but I have, um, touched myself thinking about… a woman.” The priest hummed and sat in silence for a moment, calculating. You were red with embarrassment, confessing something that went so against everything you had learned growing up.

“Was it one woman specifically, or have you had these tempting thoughts about several women?” The priest asked. You sat with yourself, pondering whether or not you had ever had those thoughts before. Well, maybe you had.

“There was a girl when I was younger. My thoughts weren’t driven by lust but I thought of what life would be like with her. This woman is so.. different. I’ve never done anything with anyone, I’ve never had such filthy thoughts about anyone before, especially not a woman.” You whispered the last word, as if it would change anything.

“Everyone struggles with temptation at some point in their lives. I myself have struggled with sexual temptation to the same sex. But, what’s important is that you didn’t act on these thoughts outside of your body. If you feel driven, you have this space to share your thoughts. If not, I can bless you and provide you with your penance.” You pondered, once again. This was a stranger. What if this priest wasn’t as good as your mother claimed?

“Well… I thought of her performing.. sexual acts on me. With her fingers and her mouth. Saying dirty, terrible things to me. I don’t know anything of lesbian sex, I don’t even know where these thoughts came from.” You felt like crawling into a ball and just sitting there with your thoughts.

“In God’s name, I grant you forgiveness for your sins,” you released a breath. “I order you to fast for the next week, read your Bible, and return next week. In Jesus’ name we pray and forgive, Amen.” You said Amen, letting the priests’ words sink into your skin. You would fast, intermittently as instructed, but you weren’t sure how abstaining from food would remove the desires that you weren’t even sure you wanted to be rid of.

“You have a very kind voice,” you said quietly. “Thank you kindly, Father.” You spoke, southern charm briefly snaking its way into your vocabulary. You left the booth, feeling as if every eye in the room was digging into you, even though the booth is soundproofed. Like they knew that you were full of it, that you didn’t want to get better. All you wanted was to uphold your perfect little image. God didn’t have a place in your life.

It wasn’t until the following week that you were sure God wouldn’t ever forgive you.

The week had been long, almost torturous. Going without food didn’t feel like a penance, it just felt like work. You didn’t feel any more connected to God than you did the previous week, and all you were getting out of it was fatigue and falling asleep at work. Your bible did nothing, praying did nothing. You felt like none of it was ever going to cure you.

When you arrived at the church one week after you first stood there, you had no idea what to say to the Reverend. Would you say that you didn’t want to give up your sin, that you didn’t care what God thought? That what you were instructed to do wasn’t working, and the orders were wrong?

The church was empty when you stepped in, and it was daunting. It made the room look larger, the ceilings look taller, the rows of pews doubling as you walked closer to the front. Nobody was there, and you were sure that you did something wrong. Maybe you got the date wrong, maybe this was a fever dream, or a test from God.

You looked around, taking in every aspect of the church. The stained glass windows bared their blooming colors down onto your skin, changing it to shades of purple and green and blue. The room was warm, welcoming even. But that didn’t change the fact that it didn’t feel right. None of this was right.

Someone cleared their throat and you whipped back around to the front, taking in the person before you. It was a woman, but not a woman that looked like any other you had seen before in your entire life. She had short hair, cropped at the ear, and the shadow cast across her face made her grey eyes gleam. She was one hell of a sight.

That was when you knew.

“May I help you?” She asked, and you immediately recognized the voice. This was the priest that you spoke to last week, when you recited every thought that was currently resurrecting in your brain.

“I’m here for confession, I think,” you said quietly, slightly embarrassed as it appeared the event was cancelled. “I may be in the wrong place, I just moved here. Are you the Reverend?” She smiled, setting aside what she was doing.

“Yes ma’am. I’m sorry you couldn’t join us on Sunday, I announced then that this week’s confession had to be cancelled. But, I’m not busy if you want to talk. I’m Sevika,” she leaned against a railing that divided the altar and the nave, offering a hand for you to shake. “Have you confessed before?”

Sevika knew the answer. She knew the moment she saw you, the way you spoke, the look in your eyes. You were the woman from last week, who told her about your sexual desire for women. She was sure, now that she saw your face, that she would never forget you. There was a breathtaking person behind the filthy confessions, and it made her mind wander to places God would frown upon.

“Yes, last week, I was told to come back this week. I found that what I was ordered to do hasn’t been working. I still feel the way I did last week.” You huffed. She gestured to a pew and you followed her, taking your seat beside her.

She was so close, too close. Her knee pressed against your own, and you could basically hear the sound of her breathing. She was warm beside you, and her entire person drew you in, causing a lack of disconnect for the disgusting thoughts in your head. There were so many things. Her hands were huge, and the material of her black shirt stretched thin around her bicep. You were dying to see what was under the shirt, and if it was as tempting as it appeared to be. And then, of course, you were smacked in the face with the reminder of the fact that she was your future Reverend.

“Since we’re alone, do you feel compelled to remind me of your confession?” You shifted nervously, confessing out of the booth making you feel as if God had a better watch on you. Maybe you weren’t ready for this; maybe you didn’t want to change.

“Well.. it was about lust, and, um, other women. I’ve been having some thoughts about what it would be like to, maybe, indulge in.. sexual acts.. with other women. I think a lot about hands and voices, and..” you trailed off as your eyes slowly painted their way from the tips of her fingers, across her arm, up her neck, and all the way back to her eyes.

Sevika was good at hiding whatever she was thinking. She was desperate to know every thought that you had, pick apart that pretty little head until she had you in a perfect, open position. But she didn’t. “Is that so?” She hummed. Your thighs rubbed together as a familiar feeling rose between them - except this time, it was brought upon by another person, and not your own thoughts. “I remember you, now. Tell me why you don’t think your penance is working.”

You forced your brain to come back into the moment. “I made my fast, as instructed, and I prayed. I read my Bible every night, cover to cover. But.. it still doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel fixed. I’m still having these thoughts even when I don’t want to have them. They just creep up on me and take my mind under control.”

“Healing doesn’t happen overnight, lamb,” she watched your pupils dilate, and an ever so slight change in the pace of your breath. “It takes time. Once you open your heart and mind to God, He will take His time healing you. He doesn’t make mistakes.” You looked up at her, realizing then that she was dramatically taller than you, even when sitting.

“Reverend,” your gaze fell once again, this time focusing on your hands in your lap. “What if.. what if I don’t want to get better? A part of me wants to walk out of this church and never return. What if I like these thoughts, and I like what I’ve come up with? What if I want it to happen to me?” You thought back to the barista, who hadn’t even wandered into your mind since you got here. It was like she meant nothing any more, now that you had such a woman in front of you.

“My previous statement still applies. Moving away from the temptation of sin and sin itself comes with time,” she turned to you, placing a hand on your knee. “Inherently, your thoughts are not sin. They only become sin when you act on them.”

“Does touching myself count as acting on them?” God, her mind was racing.

“God never says that pleasuring yourself is a sin, but your thoughts leading up to doing such are what makes it a sin. If your fantasies include other women and doing sexual things with them rather than, let's say doing it to aid period cramps, then it turns into falling into temptation.” You nodded, taking in her words. You knew the answer, but you still didn’t feel bad.

“Thank you, Sevika. Would you be willing to offer me further penance?” She smiled, letting out a quick chuckle.

“I’m going to order you a personal one, and a church related one,” you met her eyes, scanning the depths of her face. You never wanted to forget it. “Though I’m not sure how often you do it, I want you to restrict touching yourself to the best of your ability, and I want you to continue your fast. Now, in Jesus’ name we pray, Amen,” you repeated her Amen, “return next week, or join us for church. We have a Wednesday night session at eight this week, if you’d like to attend.”

“I just might.” Your eyes were practically glued to hers, unrelenting. You needed to learn her, know every crook and crevice in her face. Every color in her eyes, and every wrinkle that found its way onto her aging face. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Reverend. Thank you.” You stood with her and pulled her into your arms without thinking. You reached as far up onto your tippy-toes as you could, and the poor woman still had to bend to reach you.

“Have a good night, little lamb.” Her hands slid off your waist as you pulled away, walking away and leaving the church with your head in a daze.

You found yourself trapped in her daze until you were back to your apartment. Everything about her beyond fascinated you. There was a small color shift in her eyes, a haze of blue and dark grey that mixed together to create the most perfect color, dressed with growing crows feet in the corners, that pulled when she smiled. Her nose was large and round and stapled her face in a beautiful way, almost touched by a large scar that found its way down her cheek and neck.

You wondered how far the scar went, underneath her clerical collar. If it touched her chest, or found its way to her stomach, all the places you were desperate to see. Desperate, that was the word for you. Desperate to know the shade of her lips, and the way they felt on yours. Desperate to know how she spoke out of uniform, the things she liked to do.

Wednesday service was going to be unbearable.

Sevika was in a position similar to yours, but she liked the idea that she had the upper hand. She liked how you looked at her, and the way your thighs rubbed together ever so gently at the names she called you. She knew you didn’t want to get better, and she knew you wouldn’t. Not when you sat in the church, squirming and eyeing her arm like a slut.

But it also meant that she had you. If she wanted you, wanted to break her oath and ruin her purity for you, she could. You would let her. There wasn’t an inch of your body that would put God before her if she asked. She knew you were thinking the same things about her fingers and her mouth as you were about whatever woman drove you to come in the first place.

She never considered herself a particularly observant person, but the way she noticed the shift in your eyes, from good to bad, and the way you listened to her, patiently, she may have to start using the title. You were practically pliable, ready to be morphed into what she wanted from you.

She would never forget the words touching yourself leaving your mouth. She could imagine it, truly. See your hand sliding over your stomach and over your panties, rubbing your clit like it was enough. Refusing to fuck yourself on your fingers, afraid of what God might think. And when it wasn’t enough, she could see you sitting pretty on one of your pillows humping yourself on it like a dog, chasing any feeling of pleasure that you could derive from it. She could envision you like she was watching you on video.

Sevika was absolutely dripping wet in her living room, where she let her thoughts run several minutes ago. This was the first time anything of this sort had happened to her in years - she never thought like this, and was never this driven to act on it. Guilt overrode any substantial plans of finding the vibrator stuffed away in her closet.

No matter what happened, you were both fucked.

-

You let weeks pass. You had to. There was no way you could step into a house of God with her in it and pretend that you didn’t crave her from the depths of your skin. There was no use pretending anymore, not when thoughts of her crept into your mind at all times of the day, everyday, for the last two weeks. You were waiting for them to subside before going to the church, even thought about going to a different church to try and improve your thoughts.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help. The longer you were away from her, the stronger the thoughts grew. You had to go back. Somewhere, deep inside, you thought that if you went to the church, watched her preach about God, what she knew best, you would be relieved of the things holding you back.

And so, you got home from work, dressed nice, and prepared to go to church. The only thing your mother gifted you before you left was a rosary - it was beaded in red, with the equipment matching in gold. You wore it around your neck, the first time you had bothered taking it out of the box since she gave it to you, like it would save you. It wasn’t going to.

None of your thoughts about going to the church revolved around anything inappropriate. Sevika knew that, she knew it when you walked in quietly, five minutes before her sermon began. She knew when you sat in the front, and closed your eyes, letting her words melt into you while the rosary clung tight to your palm burned your skin. You were here for a reason that wasn’t known to your sweet little brain yet.

You were such a pretty thing, sitting there proper in a skirt that dusted your ankles and a headband that matched. Her eyes found you in the crowd every time she lifted her gaze from the holy book before her to the crowd. It wasn’t busy late on a Wednesday night, and she knew that’s why you were here. There were less suspecting eyes, less people to grow weary of an unfamiliar face amongst them.

Most importantly, there were less people that knew.

It wasn’t obvious to everyone, but someone in the crowd, you were sure, knew that you were thinking a grand scheme of unholy things about the reverend. You couldn’t stand it, these thoughts. You tried to convince yourself that she wasn’t looking at you when she preached, but the way her dark eyes drilled into your own when she read a verse forced your thoughts otherwise. When the service was over, you were going to bult. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t ever come back.

This was the end of your time as a Catholic. You had disappointed God far too much.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the end of our service tonight, I want to talk about something that many of us in the crowd know and love,” Sevika smirked, “all of our married folk in the room, as I send you off tonight, I want all of y’all to remember that God calls us to enjoy and place importance in our relationships with sex,” there were hoots and hollers throughout the hall. “So I ask, in the name of God, have some fun between this service and our Sunday service. Let’s end with a prayer.”

Sevika began her prayer, but your mind was focused on her encouragement of sex. It made you wonder if Sevika was married, and if everything you had created in your head was just that - a creation. Fake. If you imagined the way she looked at you and the names she called you. It wasn’t real.

You had almost made your escape from the church without having to speak to her before you were cornered. Of course. Every priest did this. They bid farewell to those leaving the church at the end of the service, shaking hands and kissing babies, encouraging the group to return the following Sunday.

And like every other, she did it to you. “Thought I’d never see you again, peach.” She chuckled. Like a puppy, you were drawn to her as the stranglers made their way out. “Walk with me,” you did as told, following by her side as you walked back up the aisle towards the altar. “Did you enjoy the service?” You contemplated giving a half-assed answer, anything that could get you out of this church as quickly as possible.

“Yes, it was nice to sit in on a service again. It’s been a while. Speaking of which-” you tried, once again, to get away, the outcome reflecting similarly to the first time.

“Will you be joining us on Sunday?” Sevika was doing everything in her power to get you to stay. The more she talked to you, the more she asked, she knew you would. Pliant. It was a phenomenal word for you. So… flexible. Willing, even. With the way your eyes widened with every word she said, lips parting and cheeks reddening like she was the most fascinating thing on earth… it was easy. You were easy.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able.” It felt like lying. The short answer was no, and the long answer was no, you couldn’t ever step foot into this church again without the fear of God coming down and smiting you himself. Telling her that you may have plans wasn’t a lie, simply an aversion to the harsh truth.

“Well if you can, we’d love to have you. You make a great audience member.” You stopped dead in your tracks, still. Hopefully she didn’t notice. The comment was clearly an innuendo, hinting at the way your thighs pushed together under your skirt and the way your hands bunched up the material every time you thought she looked your way.

“That’s kind of you to say,” your fingertips smoothed over the rosary around your neck, drawing her eyes to the spot on accident. She was good at watching you, and you were aware. She took a step closer to you, entering your personal space. She wasn’t far - close enough that you could smell the cologne she had on. It was a musky mix of wood and something deep, and you let your eyes flutter closed.

“Is this new?” She asked, large fingers finding the piece like a feather. You were burning now, burning like you were floating in front of the sun itself. She could inevitably feel the temperature of your skin and the rapid pace of your heart, and feel it she did.

“No,” you whispered back, “my mother gifted it to me before I left.” Your eyes were squeezed shut tighter than they had been for the extent of your life.

“Do you pray to it every night? You feel saved yet, pretty?” She pushed further, seeing how much you would take before you snapped out of it and left, never to be seen by her again. You were pretty. The prettiest girl she’d ever seen, will ever see. It was only her duty to tell you that.

“No.” You opened your eyes, meeting hers and immediately realizing her closeness. “In fact, I think I may try a new church, one that feels more right.” You felt weak, trying to pretend to be strong. But her proximity to you, her smell, her hand still rubbing over the cross, it was all too much to be strong.

“Are you now?” Sevika was amused by this, especially knowing that nothing would tear you away from the things you felt about her. “Why’s that, lamb? Something I should know about in my church that’s bothering you?” You sighed, frustrated and turned on more than you’d like to admit.

“I feel as if your penances aren’t working, nothing has changed. And you..” She cut off the end of your sentence, abruptly.

“Me?” She asked in a playful tone, like she knew this was working. Like she knew that heat was pooling in your belly and your panties were wet.

“You’re distracting me. From being saved.” She smirked, stepping even further into your space. You backed up, not going far before your back hit the railing that divided the ambo and the crossing. You were stuck between her and the railing, but there was nothing to object. Not now. Her knuckles ran down your bare chest until they reached the start of your top, where she switched to her fingers.

Leaning in, with her fingertips running down your side, she spoke. “No, little lamb,” she leaned in, mouth finding the shell of your ear. “You just don’t want to be.” Her hand fastened around your hip, pushing it into the railing. “In fact, with all of these thoughts of yours, I don’t even know if God can save you.”

“I don’t.. I don’t know what you want me to say to that.” You pouted. You weren’t exactly scared, at the moment, but something else was creeping up inside of you. She had the means and opportunity to do absolutely whatever she wanted to you, right now. And the worst, most gut wrenching part of all of it, is that you’d say yes.

“Give in.” The moment your eyes met hers, her lips were slamming into your own.

Kissing her was like kissing an angel. You had kissed plenty of boys in your life, but where their spit and shitty tongue turned you off, Sevika’s bruising force and toe-curling kisses turned you on. She pressed her lips into you with fervor, chasing every feeling she could get out of you, and you didn’t resist.

It was terrible, truly, how you let her do it. Let her suck your tongue into her mouth and wrap her large hand around your throat. Awful. Ungodly. It would be best if you pushed her away and ran out of the church, chasing your dignity that seemingly flew out the stained-glass window. But it was so fucking good.

She was so much bigger than you, also. There was no way that you could escape from her now, not like this. Not when your mind was spinning and your legs were about to let out, all from a kiss. All from her hands on your hips and her warm body pressed to yours. And when she pulled away, looking at you darkly like her next meal, you couldn’t help but let out a pathetic noise, and she smirked.

“This is wrong,” you insisted, but your grip on the front of her gown didn’t cease. “This isn’t good, this isn’t what God wants.” You were battling with the fact. This wasn’t anything close to what God wanted. God called for pleasure in marriage, marriage between one man and one woman. But here you were.

“Leave, lamb. Walk away. Go be good,” she took a step back, your grip on her shirt releasing, teasing smirk still painted on her stunning features. This was your chance, your opportunity to move back home and keep being good, keep being that sweet little version of you that seemed to be gone forever. But you didn’t move, you couldn’t move. “That’s what I thought. You want this, don’t you, sweet thing?” You were practically shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Hesitantly, you nodded. It was slow, and only once. Sevika was back on you in an instant, trapping you against the railing once again while she dragged your legs up and around her hips. She kissed your neck, doing far more than any stupid boy had in the past. It wasn’t long before any thoughts of God began to slip from your brain, too busy focusing on the way her warm mouth sucked the skin on your neck, adding her teeth and quickly flicking her tongue over the spot to ease any pain.

You couldn’t blame anyone for enjoying this. Not when she did the things that she did to you. “You’re always so good, baby,” she kissed the spot right below your ear. “Don’t you think you deserve something for being so good all the time?” Once again, you nodded slowly. “Answer me, lamb. You’ll learn quickly that doing what I say will get you what you want.”

“Yes,” your voice shook with your answer, eyes drifting to the side. It was an embarrassing experience, but it was only deserved. She let your legs down, backing away slightly with a chuckle.

“Yes what, baby? What do you deserve?” A flush of red warmed your cheeks. It was hard to say something you didn’t agree with; you hadn’t been good, you didn’t deserve anything because you weren’t good. If you acted right, you still didn’t deserve anything. God didn’t give out favors for simply doing what you were called to do.

Sevika’s words snuck their way into your mind quickly. You were so far gone already, what’s a little bit more? She had already made you feel this good and she had hardly touched you. What was just a little more? Maybe she was right, maybe God hated you.

“Yes, I deserve something for being good,” you cringed at your own words, flinching away from her gaze. She pulled your forward off of the railing, lifting you over her shoulder like it was nothing. Like you were a piece of paper in comparison to her strength.

You found purchase atop the sermon table, the fat of your thighs morphing against the divots in the wood, through your skirt. Every church had a table in the altar, one where the reverend could sit things out or create a sort of symbolism of God, but right now, she was pushing everything off to sit you onto it, reattaching her lips to your neck rapidly.

You were writhing under her by the time her lips found your collarbone, leaving a trail of dark marks. “Let’s take this off, pretty thing. Can you do that for me?” She ran her pointer and middle finger under the elastic of your skirt as she whispered in your ear, planting a kiss under it.

You didn’t hesitate in lifting your hips and slipping it down, leaving you in your top and panties. It was the epitome of a compromising position, looking up at her half naked with your hair static and your makeup messed up. “You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” You nodded, but that was hardly enough for her, as you should've anticipated. She grabbed your jaw, pressing her fingers into your cheeks to hollow them out. “What did we just talk about?”

“Yes, I’m pretty.” You mumbled through the force of her hands.

“That’s it,” she cooed, removing her hand in favor of pulling you up by your upper arms and spinning you around, folding you over the table in front of you. With a gasp, your cheek came down on the wood with your hands flat next to your head. You were ass up, pink panties covering the one thing that nobody else had ever seen. “Whatever will I do with you, little lamb? God doesn’t like sluts who bend over for their priests.” Her hand came down to knead the flesh of your ass.

You whimpered, pushing back into the touch. It was humiliating, really, how wet you got when she said such vile things, using your religion, your existence against you. Even with that in mind, you were practically dripping through your panties, you may even be. All you knew was that your thighs were wet and that Sevika was the only one who could see anything else.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You whined, glancing over your shoulder at her. The look in her eyes had far surpassed something sinister. She pressed her flesh thumb into the wet patch on your underwear, against your drenched entrance, laughing as you mewed.

“You’re in no position to make demands, peach. Not when you're this wet from some kissing. This how you feel every time you see me?” Her mech hand came down hard on your ass when you didn’t answer, making you flinch again. “The first time we met, I knew you’d be easy. Wide eyes and those pretty legs that rubbed together with every word I said. Has anyone ever touched you here before, little lamb?” She ran her flesh thumb up and down the sensitive skin and you attempted to tighten your thighs with no avail.

“No, only..” you trailed off as she sank to her knees, pressing a kiss into the crease between your ass and your upper thigh, letting them travel down your hamstring.

There was a pause before she answered you, “Only?” she pushed, desperate to know if her fingers would be the first in your pretty cunt. She continued her trail of kisses all over your thighs as you pondered whether or not to answer her.

“Only my own.” You whispered, guilt taking you over as you decided that answering was probably a better idea than whatever consequence she would award you if you didn’t.

She hummed. “What do you think about when you fuck your cunt with your fingers, pretty thing?” You clenched down on something nonexistent as her words shot straight to your core. This was absolutely disgusting. Before you could think to answer, her tongue was lapping lazily at your clit over your panties, taking a fat lick from your clit to your hole. Her hand came down on your ass again, learching you forward with a moan.

“You,” you sputtered, “I think about you.” she moaned into you, sending soft vibrations through your system, just enough to make you tense, a new wave of slick rushing through your panties.

She didn’t bother with any more humiliating questions with forced answers, instead opting to press her face into you and continue licking at your center over your panties. She went like that for several minutes, until you were practically crying and your panties were soaked - partially her spit and partially the wetness that was leaking from you like a hose.

Your mind was in a daze when she stood, tucking her fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear as she began to drag it over your ass. “Lift your hips, pretty girl. Let me make you feel good, since you’re so needy.” You couldn’t even think to do it, resulting in her lifting them for you. It only made you wetter, the way she lacked any form of struggle when lifting you, essentially doing it with one hand while she used the other to drag your pantues down.

She didn’t allow them to come all the way off  before she was attaching her wide lips to your clit. With your panties strung around your ankles and her tongue on your clit, you knew that this was the end of anything pertaining to you and God. There was no place for God when she had a mouth like that.

“I think God blessed y’r pussy, baby. Tastes so fucking good.” She followed with a groan, sucking your clit into her mouth. You almost shrieked, lurching forward once again as the nerve exploded with feeling. Porn had never even come close to making you feel this way, let alone your pillow or fingers.

With a final peck, Sevika flicked her tongue against your entrence, pushing it through the tight muscle and wasting no time tongue-fucking you like you weren’t in a house of God. She was messy, grabbing your hips with both hands and pulling you into her face, letting you rock into it and hump her like some sort of dog. Her face was soaked, from her nose to her chin, but nothing was stopping her.

Sevika was having the time of her life. She got exactly what she wanted, just like she knew she would. And to make it even better, you had the wettest pussy of any girl she’d ever fucked. When she took her oath, she was sure that she would miss eating out the most, making you a prize. Your cunt was so good that she was sure she would resign the moment she got you home safe. THere was no way in hell she would be able to go without this for longer than a day.

Not only were you drenching her like a baptism, but you were also moaning and squirming and making all the best noises that drove a sane woman crazy. Your cunt had to be heaven, your body that of an angel. This was her blessing, her calling and her salvation. It was you, all of you.

A pit grew in your stomach, wrapping itself around every inch of your body until she whispered, “come, lamb” had your muscles relaxing and your legs shaking, wave after wave of pleasure rocking you like a punch. Sevika didn’t halt, drinking up every last drop that she could get from you, and she didn’t stop there.

Once she was sure your orgasm was over, she stood, flipping you over until your back was resting against the wood. She pressed her middle finger against your hole, groaning into your neck as you swallowed her in. “You’re such a good girl, yeah? Gonna get broken in tonight, peach. ‘m gonna stretch you so good, make you so full.”  You practically screamed as she curled her single finger up into the best spot in your body, one that you hadn’t touched yourself.

“Vika, ‘s too much,” you slurred, but all she did was press  her cold, mech thumb onto your tongue, husing you. She added another finger, letting you adjust knuckle by knuckle until you were full. She fucked you like that for some time, crooking up with every thurst until your tears were regular.

“One more big stretch, my girl can do it, can’t she?” you shook your head no, but it wasn’t true. You wanted to see how far you could go, how much you could take. Your body begged to indulge and be stretched open for her, molding to every part of her.

Her third, thick finger protruded your entrance and you cried out, fat salty tears falling down your cheeks. It burned when she got the first knuckle in, and your hand shot down to her wrist to hold it in place. Using the wetness that your mouth provided, she rubbed circles into your clit with her mech hand, helping you adjust to the feeling.

When she bottomed out, you were close to sobbing. She wasn’t joking when she insisted on filling you, you were full to the hilt, shaking like a leaf with every delicious curl of her fingers. Once she got going, there was no slowing her down. She fucked into you like the world was ending, unrelenting in her pace as she did nothing but watch all three fingers get sucked in every time.

Your mind was swimming, stuck in what you were sure was an alternate universe. There was no way that a single woman was making you feel this good, making your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out like you had no thoughts. “Hey,” she caught your attention, but your brain and recognition was at an all-time slow. “Watch your greedy,” you whined as her mech hand came down no your clit, “fucking,” it came down again, only increasing your noise, “cunt,” she finished it off with one final slap, “sucks in my fucking fingers.”

You gazed down, watching every thrust. You reached up, pulling her body against your own as you approached your next orgasm. You held her close to you, nails scratching and digging into her toned back when her mechanical hand began its pace on your clit. “Sev.. Sev, I-I can’t do it, it hurts,” you cried, hands tightening on her shoulders as your muscles tensed.

“My strong girl, you can do it. Give me another one.” She increased her pace ever so slightly and that’s what did it, clenching down on her so tightly that you feared for her circulation. You came for what felt like hours, shaking and crying and holding her like she was the only thing keeping you alive. “Atta girl, little lamb. See how good you are at listening?” You only moaned, further extending your finish.

When you were finally finished, she pulled her fingers from you and tapped your lips, motioning for you to open them. You did, not expecting her to push all three in and down your throat. You caught on quickly that she wanted you to suck them, sucking them clean of your own release. It was purely erotic, not coming anywhere close to things that you had done to yourself or thought of having done to yourself.

Once her fingers were clean, Sevika dipped her head down once again, this time only licking up the mess that you had already made. Her intentions didn't stop you from twitching and squirming, though. She pulled you up, letting you put all of your weight on her as she redressed you. Your legs were basically jelly, so much happening that there was no way you could stand or even manage to get yourself home.

Without asking, she effortlessly scooped you into her arms and out of the church, only briefly sitting you down to lock the doors. You wondered whether or not she had left things since she was clearly in a hurry, but it hardly mattered with the fuzzy state of your mind.

She got you home and helped you up the stairs to your apartment, but she didn’t stop there. She helped you change and tucked you in, even pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well, lamb.” She said softly as she disappeared out your door.

And you knew, then, that you weren’t ever going to see her again.

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[the-modern-typewriter]

*shuffles shyly into your ask box*

Hello! Your writing is so fun and juicy and I was just wondering if you'd be willing to write a Hero x Villain where Hero is trying to deny their feelings for Villain and Villain is just flirting relentlessly. Maybe Villain kidnapped Hero just to have them alone??

"You think I have feelings for you?" the hero demanded. "You kidnapped me."

"Are you telling me that the big, bad superhero can't break free of a pair of cuffs?"

"That's not the point."

"Isn't it?" The villain smiled, coming to a stop between the hero's splayed legs. "Because if you can break free, gorgeous, it means you're choosing to stay."

The hero swallowed. Cuffed to a (admittedly comfortable enough) chair, they had to tip their head up to meet the villain's gaze. They shifted, slightly. They refused to call it squirming.

The villain's smile grew to a wicked grin.

"That's not the point," the hero said again, voice cracking a little. "It's still kidnapping!"

"And of course nothing in you finds it hot that I can get the better of you. You're above such things. The way you shivered when I walked in was pure terror. Is that right?"

"I'm not scared of you! We just established I can get free of these cuffs at any time."

The villain raised an eyebrow.

The hero coloured and looked down. Their mind reeled. They didn't have feelings for the villain. They didn't. Because that would be wrong. It would be morally heinous. It would be...

"Mm." The villain trailed their finger up along the hero's heaving chest, tip tip their chin up again, and the hero's breath gave a treacherous hitch. "So why are you staying, then?"

"You might give an evil monologue and reveal all your plans. Your kind like to do that."

The villain laughed. "Oh my love. You've never met my kind. Maybe if you had, you'd know what to do with me."

"Arrest you?"

"Pin me down and tell me I've been so very naughty?"

"Yes! No - I mean no!" The hero's face was on fire. They glared at the villain.

The villain brushed a thumb over their cheek, almost soothing. Like they wanted to reassure the hero that, if they were mocking, it was not to be cruel.

The hero belatedly realised they should have recoiled from the touch a long time ago. They swallowed again, but they still couldn't quite seem to get any moisture into their mouth. They felt suddenly infinitely aware of their tongue.

No clever comebacks came to mind. Only the image of the villain pressed writhing beneath their hands, breathless and wild and grinning in that way of theirs.

"So. Here you are." The villain got back on track, though perhaps not mercifully, after another all too telling moment of silence. "And it's absolutely not because you have feelings for me. It's all..." They waved their free hand, "strategic. It's not for the fact that part of you knows..." The villain leaned down, close enough to kiss. "That kidnapped and alone with me is the only time you would ever allow yourself to truly act on what you want, instead of playing perfect. If you were brave enough to take it, that is."

"I-" The hero faltered.

Their gaze dipped to the villain's lips, cataloguing the minty puff of their breath, their closeness. They cleared their throat. Something in them ached. Longed. Yearned. Reinvented new synonyms for craning hopelessly, helplessly, for the thing that they were not allowed or able to have.

The hero shook their head.

"Okay." The villain straightened abruptly. They pulled back. Their fingers fell away, leaving the hero bereft. "Sorry for pressing. See you out there, maybe, gorgeous."

"I-what?"

"You're free to go. Far be it from me to inflict myself where I'm not wanted."

"What? No!" The protest left the hero unbidden as the villain turned away.

It was a trap. It was so obviously a trap, and yet the hero stepped in it anyway because...because...

"You are such an asshole," the hero said.

"Villain, darling."

"It doesn't change anything even if I did have feelings for you. I can't."

"Ain't no one here but us to find out about it."

"It will get messy."

"Life does that, gorgeous." Still, the villain's voice was softer than before, quieter. Less the purr, or teasing lilt. "That's what makes it life."

After a beat, the villain moved back over to them again. They slipped one finger beneath the hero's chin.

"You're tied to a chair, kidnapped by a supervillain," the villain said. "So just this once we can pretend you don't have a choice. Can I kiss you?"

The hero nodded, heart pounding in their chest.

It was a mistake, another trap of as much as any tale of honey and flies, because they immediately wanted more of the sweetness. The villain's mouth on theirs was a more perfect thing than any of the pedestals that the hero had made a home on.

When the villain pulled back, the hero broke the cuffs thoughtlessly to chase, to slip fingers into the villain's hair and drew them back in closer.

The villain's breath hitched that time.

The hero wanted more of that too. They just wanted.

"Tell me again," the hero said, as they recklessly kissed the villain deep, "that I don't know exactly what to do with you, asshole?"

The villain laughed again and it was one of the best sounds the hero had regrettably ever heard.

Somehow, when the two of them were alone, the villain was a choice that the hero kept not making after that.

[naughtyjjk]

just a massage (pt. 2)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, a bit of exhibitionism/voyeurism notes: if you haven't already, make sure to read part 1 here first!

it’s been a week and nanami hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. it’s terrible for him mentally, for his day-to-day living in general. every time he closes his eyes, you’re there in his mind. you with your naked body and perfect curves and smooth skin… the way you were so vocal and reactive to his touches…

he’s thought about you more than he’d ever admit, especially at night, after a long day of work, when he’s finally able to take off his clothes and lie down in bed and wrap a hand around his aching cock. yes, he’s jerked off to the thought of you—multiple times. he can’t seem to stop, addicted to the fantasy that he conjures. and it’s bad, it’s so bad of him, but he’s also never come so hard before and you make him irrationally horny.

today, nanami gets to the massage parlor and opens up his schedule. that’s when he sees your name there, a session booked for 1:30 pm. he blinks, wondering if it’s a dream. it’s not. he moves through the whole morning on autopilot, speaking politely to clients who are not you. they’re all irrelevant and he’s both looking forward to and dreading the time of your appointment.

he promised that he wouldn’t repeat what happened last time. it had been far to inappropriate, far too unprofessional, and he could easily get fired if anyone found out. but… his cock has other ideas. he doesn’t know if he would be able to hold back once he sees you again, in person, there to tempt him with your hot, sexy body. at the same time, a part of him wants to find out how far he can push you, test the limits to see how much you’re able to endure. it had been obvious that you were into it just as much as he was last time.

inhaling, nanami looks at the clock. it shouldn’t be long now before you get here. he has to tame his thoughts so that he doesn’t get himself all worked up over nothing.

but fuck, he wants you. he wants you so fucking bad.

.

“you booked a longer session this time,” nanami greets you as you walk into the room. he’s shirtless again, of course. at this point, you can probably guess that it’s a deliberate choice, as if he’s testing your resolve from the very start. like last time, the only piece of clothing he has on is a pair of shorts that barely does anything to hide what he’s packing down there.

you divert your eyes before you end up staring for too long. everything about the massage parlor looks exactly the same as it had when you visited last week, with its white walls and minimalistic decorations and the different bottles of oils all lined up on the counter which, as nanami has proved previously, can be used for more than their intended purposes. but there is something that changed, though, and you sense it as soon as you see nanami.

“well,” you reply eventually, “we left off with some unfinished business.”

there’s no beating around the bush anymore. neither of you bother to keep up pretenses this time because it’s inevitable where this will lead. and this is something you both clearly want. you know that you’re not the only one who had been looking forward to today, that nanami wants it just as much as you.

“right. but you know,” nanami drawls, “last time, while you were in the changeroom after our session, i think i heard some… noises. any idea what that could be?”

flushing, you feel your entire body heating up with embarrassment. you curse yourself for not being quieter at the time and you clear throat, glancing away. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“hm.” nanami looks at you unconvinced. he takes a step closer. “it couldn’t have been that you were doing anything naughty in there, right?”

“o-of course not,” you say, hating how guilty you sound.

thankfully, nanami doesn’t press you any further. “good. i mean, no one else heard you… but it would’ve been bad if someone did.” he grabs a few of the items from the counter and walks over to the bed. “now, where would you like me to massage this time?”

sitting back, you make a vague gesture. “just—continue where we left off. same as before.”

nanami raises an eyebrow. “come on, now. let’s be a bit more honest,” he says, pausing to lick his lips. “we both know what you’re really here for.”

“everywhere,” you blurt out, arousal hitting you without warning. “my whole body… the front this time, too. make me feel good.”

eyes darkening with desire, nanami nods, pleased with your answer. “much better. we’ll start with you lying down on the bed again.”

you position yourself the same as last time, on your stomach with your face down and legs spreading apart instinctively. you hear nanami chuckle at your eagerness.

soon, oil is poured over your back, warm hands spreading it all over. your muscles relax at once and you’re reminded of how skilled nanami is. along your spine, he applies pressure to his palms, drawing out soft sounds from you. nanami runs his hands parallel, gliding them down all the way to your legs, then back up again, and repeating the process until heat starts to coil inside you.

after a moment, nanami asks, with just a hint of amusement in his voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“nothing,” you mumble. a lie, obviously. there’s only one thing that could be occupying your mind while nanami is touching you like this, rubbing your body sensually, and that’s—

“hm.” nanami says. “want to know what i’m thinking about?”

“wh-what?”

“how much i want to fuck you.” nanami’s voice is low and he uses both hands to squeeze your ass over the towel. in response, you moan, arousal hitting you hard. “how horny you make me. i've been thinking about it since our last session…”

breath hitching, you feel a rush of heat spreading throughout your body like wildfire, a wetness starting to soak your pussy. it’s no secret that you’ve been imagining the same scenario for the past few days, every second that you’ve been apart.

“how long has it been since you’ve had sex, darling?”

“ah—i don’t know. weeks, maybe,” you say, exhaling. you’re losing himself to the sensation of nanami’s hands as he moves them again, this time drawing circles on your inner thighs. “months.”

skirting along the edge of the towel, nanami’s fingers slip under just for a second to brush against your ass. “and how are you feeling? pent up from all those months without relief?”

“y-yeah.” you swallow hard. you’ve been more on edge than you’d like to admit, more irritable in general the longer you go without getting laid. sometimes, you’ll be flooded with dirty thoughts at the most inappropriate times, often waking up to wet dreams and an ache in your pussy to be filled.

“mm, and do you miss it? having sex?” nanami’s hot breath is right by your ear, a low whisper when he asks, “getting fucked?”

shuddering, you can’t help but moan softly. “yes.”

“it’s not enough to satisfy the craving by yourself, is it? it’s been so long…” nanami murmurs. “you want someone there with you, someone to touch you, someone to make you feel good.”

“kento… oh…”

last time, this was the point in the massage when he had stopped. but nanami shows no signs of slowing down, and even when his hands lift from your body, he makes sure that you know he’s not done yet.

“don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you today,” nanami tells you, and you’re hit with another wave of arousal. “now, turn around for me.”

you do as you’re told, flipping over on the bed to lie on your back, facing up at the ceiling. your heart hammers away in your chest as nanami eyes you up and down. you expect him to start working down from your shoulders, but he seems to have other plans when his hands move directly to untie the towel around your waist.

“w-wait, i—”

pausing, nanami glances at you, a smirk on his face. “what’s wrong? are you embarrassed that you’re wet already?” he slides the towel lower just a little. “have you forgotten how you were begging for it last time?”

nanami doesn’t wait for you to reply before unwrapping the towel all the way. like this, you can’t hide your desire anymore. and you’re more than aware of how wet you’ve gotten, pussy dripping and soaking the bed. you see nanami’s gaze flicker down, pausing in his actions to admire your body. you feel so exposed like this, naked on the bed while presenting yourself to him, and the tension between you grows thicker by the second. it’s all so arousing.

taking the bottle of oil, nanami holds it over you and pours out the liquid directly so that it leaves a trail from your chest all the way to your stomach. you can’t help but flinch slightly, feeling it tickle as it drips. a few drops fall directly onto your pussy, causing it to throb, and your breath hitches as you bite back a moan. nanami licks his lips and then his hands are on you again.

first, he runs a single finger down the center of your body, between your breasts, over your stomach, stopping just before touching your pussy, above your clit. the process is slow. slow and sensual. spreading the rest of the oil evenly across your skin, nanami takes his time in feeling you all over, making the anticipation build and build inside you.

next, your breasts are the main area of focus as he draws large circles on both sides, dipping near your armpits, along the underside, and trailing back up the center. slowly, the circles get smaller with each round, closing in on your nipples. but as soon as he’s about to come into contact with those hardened nubs, nanami retreats and starts all over again. he does it three more times—large circles spiraling closer, closer, closer. tracing just around it. caressing the sides. and you always think that this time, this time, he’s going to finally reach your nipples.

he never does. you groan, frustrated. it’s the first time you’ve experienced something like this; the first time you’ve ever wanted your nipples to be touched so badly. the worst part is that it’s really getting to you, turned on from barely anything. your pussy begs for attention, leaking more of your arousal as you mentally curse nanami for being such a fucking tease.

at that moment, nanami leans in so that his mouth is hovering just above one of your breasts and your heart pounds at the possibility of what’s to come. but all he does is blow against it gently and chuckle. 

“your nipples are so hard…” his tongue pokes out, swirling it in the air just above your skin, exactly like how he would if he were to suck and lick at the sensitive nub. he holds your gaze but never makes contact with his tongue. still, you can feel the phantom sensations there, and you want so badly for him to take you in his mouth. “want me to touch you?”

god, yes. you let out a whine. all of this teasing is going straight to your pussy, so wet with desire. but nanami’s mouth retreats and he goes back to using his hands, circling your breasts with his fingers.

when you don’t think that you could take it anymore, you feel it—a single finger brushing across both your nipples, just grazing them, the lightest of touches. you’re so turned on at this point, the anticipation having built up inside you, that you gasp, squirming on the spot as you try to adjust to the sudden, unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“ah—”

“look at you. so sensitive, so riled up from barely anything,” nanami says, waiting for you to regain your composure.

it’s not your fault. nanami made sure that your body would be extra responsive by taking it slow, making you crave it, and one barely-there touch is hardly enough to satisfy you. but that’s all you get for a while as nanami repeats his actions with the sole mission of making the experience as agonizing as possible for you.

eventually, when you least expect it, the pattern changes. nanami flattens his hands over your nipples and rubs them, going from palms to fingertips, the oil adding a delicious glide to every movement. he grabs both your breasts and fondles them, massages them. cupping them with his palms and squeezing with his large hands.

“ohh…” you moan, arching into the touch. soon, nanami switches to grasping your nipples between his fingers, pinching the delicate nubs with the perfect amount of pressure, and it sends a rush of sensation throughout your body. you whimper. “fuck, k-kento…”

“does it turn you on when i play with your nipples?” nanami asks, hyperattentive, watching every reaction that your body makes. “such a naughty girl.”

fuck, it’s only your second session here but nanami has already figured out your body’s weaknesses, all of your most sensitive areas, the erogenous zones, and how to take you apart. you shouldn’t be falling for every one of nanami’s tricks. you shouldn’t be this easy. but you gave up control the moment you laid down on this bed, and nanami just seems to have that effect on you.

having gotten the reaction he wanted, nanami moves on. he had spent so long playing with your nipples that you almost forgot the feeling of those tantalizing hands on the rest of his body. but you’re quickly reminded when he travels down to your stomach, your lower abdomen, purposely avoiding your pussy and going straight to your legs.

it’s the assault on your inner thighs that eventually ruins you. because nanami is running his hands up your thighs, stopping right at your pelvis, and doing it over and over and over—repeatedly, for what seems like forever. occasionally, his fingertips will brush against the outside of your folds, but the touch is fleeting and never goes any further than that, only serving to taunt you.

you groan, wishing nanami would just get on with it. when you express this, you only get an amused chuckle in response.

“so impatient. and you’re all wet for me already…” nanami says, those words making you even more aroused. “that’s it, let your body crave it. i would love to eat you out and taste you on my tongue.”

you certainly wouldn’t complain if he did just that. but nanami only spreads your legs and runs a finger past your pussy, spreading your wetness there. he circles your clit once, and you moan. then he goes further down until he finds your entrance but doesn’t push inside. he continues to do that—playing with you, teasing you, turning you into a writhing mess on the bed.

oh, you want him so bad. you’ve never wanted a man this fucking bad before. your body is burning, the need and desire growing exponentially by the second.

“there are so many things i want to do to you.” nanami swallows, looking like he wants to devour you but is doing everything he can to hold himself back. “but i’ll keep it simple for today. you look like you won’t be able to last much longer, anyway.”

without warning, nanami slides his hand back up to your clit, pinching it between two fingers, slick with oil. your entire body jolts as you feel pressure being applied there, a choked out moan escaping your lips. nanami rolls the pads of his fingers around the sensitive nub and you throb at his touch, breathing significantly harder now.

it had already been overwhelming before, but now your whole body burns with pleasure, with desire—wild and untamed. heat sears through you, fast, hot, making you somewhat delirious. you lose control of yourself as you buck up and circle your hips, trying to feel more of it.

“remember, this is still a massage,” nanami says, voice low, and you’re not sure who he’s trying to fool. he pinches you again, the perfect amount of pressure, and you arch off the bed with a whimper. “all i’m doing is giving you a massage…”

his hand flattens and he rubs your clit up and down, then in circles, slow at first and gradually increasing in speed. there’s no pattern to his movements; nanami is completely unpredictable, leaving you guessing, never allowing you to adjust to the sensation at any given moment. all you can do is lie there and take it, at his mercy, chasing after whatever he’s willing to give you. but you can’t exactly complain, though, not when it feels this fucking good.

“k-kento—” you cry out as all your nerves ignite at once, tingles of pleasure spreading all throughout your body.

“is this how you touched yourself in the changeroom last time?” the pace quickens, nanami drawing tight circles around your clit. “did you imagine that i was the one touching you? getting you closer and closer?”

moaning, you try to reply but your head is swimming with pleasure and it’s infinitely more arousing now that nanami is really here, playing with your pussy. it’s not just a fantasy anymore.

and then—it hits you fast, hard, entirely by surprise. one minute nanami is changing up his rhythm and the next, you find yourself bucking into the air uncontrollably, moaning loud and needy, and fuck, you’re—oh god, you’re going to come, you’re going to come—

“not yet, baby,” nanami says, voice low and stern. a command. his hand immediately withdraws from your body, keeping you right on the edge but never tipping over, and instead moves to hold your hips in place as you convulse on the bed, helpless to ride it out as your orgasm ebbs away. your pussy throbs and throbs, aching, dripping with your wetness. you’re left painfully unsatisfied. fuck, it’s not fair.

chest heaving, you whimper, having been denied your release. your whole body is on fire, and you’re so fucking turned on. you need to come. you need to come so fucking bad.

“kento,” you plead, willing to do anything to get his hands back on you. if this gets drawn out any longer, you’re not sure if you’ll survive. “kento, please—i’m—i can’t—please—”

almost idly, nanami trails a hand around the outside of your pussy, keeping his touch gentle like he has all the time in the world. it’s only a single finger grazing against you, but your hips flinch, moaning at the feeling of it. “do you really want it to end that quickly? i would love to see how desperate you can get. it won’t take much more for you to come, will it?”

you’re trembling and your pussy throbs every time nanami makes contact with it. you’re still unbelievably close to the edge despite calming down a bit now, and you’re sure that all it’ll take is a bit more stimulation from nanami before you reach your climax.

“can you—oh,” you start, words dissolving into a moan as nanami touches you again, fingers prodding at your entrance this time. it takes deliberate effort for you to gather your thoughts and finish the sentence, but you’ve become shameless, too aroused and horny to maintain any sense of dignity. “c-can you fuck me instead? i wanna—hah—wanna come on your cock.”

“mm, tempting. really tempting. but i don’t think so,” nanami tells you. his fingers latch onto your clit again, circling around it faster than before, and it’s so fucking good, so distracting that you’re barely able to hang on to his words. “i won’t fuck you today. i want to get you really desperate for it, let the tension build up until it makes you lose control. and when i finally give you what you want—tomorrow, or the next day, or even a week from now—i’ll break you apart slowly and leave you writhing under me. think of how good it’ll feel to finally have my cock in you after all this time, hard and aching inside you, filling up that tight little pussy.”

whimpering, you’re not even able to formulate a reply. that has to be the hottest proposal you’ve ever heard, like nanami has somehow figured out all of your dirtiest fantasies and is making them a reality. your mind is clouded with an arousal so strong that you’re struggling to process everything. but nanami isn’t even done yet.

“eventually, if i fuck you… when i fuck you, i’m going to take you apart slowly and push you to your limits until you show me just how badly you need it. you’ll be shaking under me, begging to have my cock in you. god, darling, i’ve wanted to ruin you since our first session together.”

you moan brokenly, hips thrusting wildly on the bed in response to his words. holy shit. nanami knows exactly how to get you all worked up. what’s worse is that every word he says is a cruel reminder that his cock isn’t inside you, isn’t fucking you, isn’t even out of those tight, tight pants yet.

“hah—fuck, your cock—n-need your cock—”

“i’ll give you something just as good.” nanami is watching you intensely, taking in the way your body responds. he bends your legs, hands sliding almost innocently across your entrance. “i can massage your insides. how does that sound?”

it sounds incredibly fucking hot, that’s what. and suddenly, you’ve never desired anything so badly before. “y-yeah—ngh, please—”

“spread your legs for me, baby,” nanami tell you. doing as you’re told, you follow his guidance to expose your pussy even more, aroused and horny beyond belief. “good girl. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

a finger runs along the outside of your pussy, slick with oil, and you choke out a moan, lifting your hips to try and feel more of it. thankfully, it goes in soon enough, not wasting any time, and nanami sinks a finger into you, the slick oil helping to ease his length inside. you let out a startled gasp as he goes deeper and deeper, past the first and second knuckle, all the way until his whole finger has been swallowed up.

once he’s all the way in, nanami groans at the tightness that envelopes him, the way you clam down as if refusing to let him go. but he starts pulling back out, inch by inch, and you’re helpless to it; all you can do is moan at how good it feels. he pumps it in and out a few times almost experimentally, taking in how quickly you’re falling apart on the bed before him.

“you can imagine that it’s my cock fucking you if that helps,” nanami whispers in your ear and the suggestion has you whimpering. “but of course, my cock is bigger than this. think you can take another?”

“Y-yes—ah—yes, yes, more—”

“look at me,” nanami says, waiting until you turn your head before adding a second digit, stretching you open. you gasp, panting as soon as he starts to thrust into you properly. “see how hard i am because of you? my cock feels like it’s going to burst out of these pants.”

and it’s true; your gaze falls on nanami’s bulge, so hot and obscene within the confines of his pants. the fabric shifts every time it twitches, pulsing like it’s trying to break out, wet and damp where the tip is. nanami’s free hand moves to touch himself, hips rolling into his palms, giving himself some relief for the very first time.

god, you swallow. you would do anything to have him pull out his cock already.

but nanami’s only goal seems to be to get you as worked up as possible, bringing you right to the edge with his dirty words. “mm, yeah. think about how fucking good it’ll feel to have my cock throbbing inside you. thrusting into your tight little pussy, nice and deep.”

his fingers curl, sending an unexpected jolt through your entire body. you cry out, back arching off the bed, head thrown back as an intense wave of pleasure overtakes you. “a-ah—! shit, kento—o-oh my god—”

grinning, nanami makes sure to aim for the same place again. “is this the spot? does it feel good here?”

“hah—fuck—y-yeah, good—hng, so fucking good—”

nanami hums, but the next few thrusts he makes purposely avoids your g-spot. each one is shallower than the last and you can’t help but squirm as you get increasingly frustrated, until he pulls out altogether.

“that’s a good look on you. it seriously turns me on to see how desperate you are now,” nanami says, licking his lips. his eyes are dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of you, running his hands along your thighs and watching your pussy throb. “it’s almost a shame we have to end things here today.”

you take a few seconds to process what he’s saying, and once you do, all you can think is, no, no. not again. you didn’t get to come yet. you need more, need your release, need those fingers back in you. need to—

“th-that’s it?” you ask in disbelief when it becomes clear that nanami isn’t going to continue. the towel is wrapped around you once again. your pussy aches in protest at how abruptly things ended, still dripping and dripping and dripping with unresolved arousal.

fuck. you refuse to let nanami leave him like this again; you’re determined to get a better outcome, unlike last time when you had to get yourself off in the changeroom. you’ll break down and beg if you have to. you want to come on nanami’s cock, on nanami’s fingers, and you know that nanami wants it, too. but whenever it seems that he’s about to go further, he always stops, right when you’re most anticipating it.

it’s especially frustrating because he’s gotten you all worked up, so fucking horny that you can hardly even think straight, but it never goes far enough for you to be fully satisfied. you’re kept on the brink of release, never allowed to come. it’s so cruel. it only works to turn you on more, to an unbearable degree.

but nanami doesn’t even acknowledge it. he only looks at you innocently. “our time is up for today,” he says, then leans in close, voice lowering to a whisper. “did you really think that i would let you come so easily? you’ve been a very naughty girl.”

fuck, that shouldn’t sound as hot and sexy as it does. it definitely shouldn’t be making you even more turned on.

“i—” shit, you think. you glance down at nanami’s very obvious erection, the desire he clearly has, too. i want your cock—want you to fuck me. but it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on going any further today, so you only manage to stammer out, “i don’t think i can go out like this.”

because you’re in arguably a worse state than nanami. despite the towel doing the bare minimum of hiding your arousal, your legs are still trembling slightly and the wetness between your legs isn’t going away.

“ah.” nanami’s eyes flicker down as he licks his lips. “you’re right, we can’t have you leaving like that. why don’t you take care of yourself now?”

you stare at him. when nanami only meets your gaze expectantly, you ask, “you mean… right here?”

“yes. we pride ourselves on customer satisfaction, you know. i can’t let you go when you clearly still have… unfinished business.” nanami smirks, evidently smug for getting you to such a state. “and don’t mind me. there’s still some time before the next appointment, so i’ll just be cleaning up the room.”

and you can’t believe it. what nanami is essentially asking you to do is masturbate, get yourself off, while you’re being watched.

the idea of it is crazy. but it’s undeniably hot, too. so fucking hot.

a few steps away, nanami is busying himself with setting up the equipment, but it’s obvious that he never strays too far. he’s still paying attention, making sure to keep you in his peripheral vision, intent on not missing out on anything.

hesitantly, you unwrap the towel around your waist until you’re fully naked once more. you sigh and glance down at yourself. it’s almost embarrassing because it’s far too noticeable just how fucking horny you are, with the way your pussy is swollen and so, so wet, making a mess on the bed.

across the room, nanami’s movements have stopped. he’s openly staring at you now, taking in the sight of you greedily. there’s hunger in his gaze as he grips the counter next to him, transfixed on the way your pussy is fully exposed, practically begging for attention.

you make eye contact, and a charge of tension passes between you before nanami nods once. “go on. show me how you make yourself feel good.”

so, you get comfortable again on the bed, hyperaware that your every action is being watched. it makes you more excited than you’d ever admit as the shame and embarrassment and humiliation all mix together with intense arousal, clouding your mind. you run your hands over your own body, starting with your breasts, cupping them and teasing your hardened nipples. just like nanami did earlier. soft moans escape you, pleasure surging throughout as you turn your head to look at nanami with half-lidded eyes.

nanami remains silent, but his expression gives him away. there’s no mistake that this is turning him on too, and you swear that you see him twitching in his pants, the fabric shifting over his bulge. but still, he’s far too composed, and you want to break down his self-control, get him so worked up that he can’t resist coming over and fucking you anymore.

traveling down your chest, across the planes of his stomach, your hands come to a stop at your hips. you spread your legs, bending your knees so that your feet are planted flat on the bed, giving you easier access to your aching pussy.

you’ve waited long enough. the slow tease of nanami’s massage and the beyond erotic proposal of masturbating in front of him have all caught up to you and you can’t delay this any longer. trailing a hand down to your entrance, you push a finger inside and immediately moan at the feeling of being filled again.

“fuck… yes,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself over to the sensation. you’ve only just touched himself, barely even started at all, but you’re already feeling it.

it’s hot and wet inside your pussy, the oil helping to loosen you up. you drag your finger, moving in and out of yourself, feeling how needy and pent-up you are as your hips roll slightly, growing impatient. you squeeze a second finger inside. moaning, you scissor them apart and pleasure floods through you.

and then you begin to thrust, going at a fairly slow pace. but still, it’s enough to have your thighs shaking, so fucking sensitive. you can feel yourself falling apart.

your fingers curl, angled just right, and your nerves come to life, firing jolts all the way up your spine. “o-oh—ngh, shit—kento—”

at the sound of nanami’s name slipping past your lips, mixed in with a moan, you hear the hitch of a breath to your side. opening your eyes again, you blink to clear your vision, and see that nanami has made his way over to the bed, standing right beside you. something about him being this close, watching over you with his cock hard and bulging in his pants, has your arousal spiking.

suddenly, you can’t stand the slow buildup anymore. your speed increases, thrusting into yourself faster before you even realize it, pushing as deep as you can go. the rush of pleasure is immediate, and your head falls back, breaths growing ragged. there’s a moan but this time it doesn’t come from you; nanami is the one who made the sound, low and strained. he looks like he’s at his limit just by being there as a bystander, watching you on display.

“fuck, that’s it,” nanami encourages you, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and touch. replace your fingers with his own. “in and out, steady thrusts. just like that…”

receiving instructions from nanami only makes you more turned on. your hips lift off the bed involuntarily and you can’t help staring at the twitching erection in his pants. “ah, feels—feels so good—"

“i bet it does,” nanami says. “look at how much you’re getting off on this. you secretly like being watched, don’t you?”

“f-fuck,” you break off into a moan. the answer to his question is evident in the way you’re dripping from your pussy, walls clenching around your own fingers.

and nanami must notice it too because he tells you, “don’t forget about your clit, baby. i know you like it there.”

reaching down with your other hand, you circle around your sensitive clit, body jerking at the added stimulation. and this is going to be your undoing, you know, because you feel the familiar buildup of your orgasm reaching a peak inside you, the crescendo of something bigger. already, you feel like you could come at any moment.

on top of that, nanami is relentless. “good girl,” he murmurs. “faster now. get yourself real close for me.”

you obey because you have no choice, because nanami has always been the one in control here. it’s getting dangerous now as you finger yourself faster, drawing tight circles around your clit, whining at the pure pleasure that’s accumulating in your stomach, between your legs. and you’re squirming, unable to contain the sheer amount of arousal inside you.

“shit—hah—o-oh my god, fuck, fuck—” you moan brokenly. then you use all of your willpower to force yourself to stop, both hands pulling away. your hips buck up in the air desperately, but you don’t want to come yet. you look over at nanami, chest heaving, and plead, “i-i want you, kento…”

growling, nanami grips onto the side of the bed, fingers digging into it to physically restrain himself. you can see the way the muscles of his arms contract, so strong, so tense. holding himself back.

“trust me, i want to fuck you so damn bad,” nanami says, and his voice alone is enough to make you more aroused. “you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you. if it weren’t for my next appointment, i would bend you over right here and have my way with you until you’re screaming.” he swallows, gaze dark and filled with desire. “but today, it’s enough for me to just watch your pleasure. so, be a good girl for me and use your fingers to fuck that pretty pussy of yours and get yourself off properly this time.”  

holy fuck. you’re throbbing hard just from those words alone, before you even touch yourself again. you can’t possibly resist; your hand moves automatically to do as you’re told, two fingers sinking into yourself again, pumping in and out with urgency. your other hand resumes its assault on your clit, gasping and moaning, overwhelmed.

there’s no buildup this time—you go fast and hard right away, too fucking turned on to make yourself wait any longer. beside you, nanami hums with approval, always watching.

“hah—hah—ah—yes, k-kento—kento—”

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” nanami says. “find your g-spot for me. come on, baby. i want to see you make yourself come.”

you cry out when you do exactly what nanami tells you, applying pressure to the most sensitive nerves inside you. your hips are thrusting wildly, out of control, and all of the stimulation combined is bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“oh fuck, o-oh fuck—” you choke out a moan, sounding wrecked. “i-i can’t—ngh, can’t take it anymore—i’m—hah—i’m gonna—”

nanami groans. “yeah, let it out. make yourself come.” his voice is strained, eyes transfixed on your body. “that’s it, such a good girl… make a mess of yourself and come for me.”

god. god. the dirty talk has your pussy throbbing, throbbing, clenching tight around your fingers, preparing for your release. you’re trembling, so close to being pushed past the limit. so fucking close. there’s no way you’ll last much longer now.

“hng—fuck—” once again, your eyes land on nanami’s cock in his pants, bulging out, stretching the fabric thin, and it’s the thought of his cock—touching it, sucking on it, fuck, having it inside you, stretching you open and filling you up—that eventually tips you over. you moan loud. “ah, c-coming—i’m coming—”

your release hits you less than a second later. you pump your fingers, curling to your g-spot, other hand rubbing your clit urgently, and that does it for you, back arching beautifully off the bed as your orgasm crashes through your body. your mouth falls open in a silent cry. it’s mind-numbing, absolutely filthy, pussy pulsing and pulsing. you ride out the pleasure in waves, panting, feeling like you might lose consciousness from how good it is.

in you half-delirious state, slowly coming down from your orgasm, you look up at nanami. you’re both impressed and extremely frustrated at his level of self-control. throughout the entire session, he never touched himself even once, despite the fact that you know he must be aching for it, so hard that it has to be painful. and he’s gotten no relief at all, his cock still locked away in the confines of his pants this whole time, occasionally twitching and throbbing without any stimulation.

maybe it’s because the timing just didn’t work out for the two of you. maybe nanami really does have to prepare for his next client. but if your positions were reversed and you happened to be the one watching nanami masturbate, such an erotic and filthy sight at your place of work, you has no doubt that you would’ve succumbed long ago.

you wonder, what would it take for nanami to finally give in? this is the second time that you’ve had to get off using your own hands at the massage parlor. and you just came, which felt good, incredible, but you’re still left somewhat unsatisfied because what you really wants is for nanami to fuck you already.

getting up from the bed, you brush a hand against the bulge between nanami’s legs. nothing more than a graze of your fingers. but that alone is enough to make him gasp, swallowing back the moan rising in his throat.

you asks, “can you really go back to work like this?”

nanami swats your hand away, cursing. he shuts his eyes to even out his breathing before settling his gaze on you again. “fuck, are you still that horny?”

grinning, you lick your lips. “if i say that i am, will you finally fuck me?”

nanami sucks in a breath, glancing over at the clock. “you really should go now. i wasn’t lying when i said that the next client will be here any minute.”

it’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but you know when to accept your loss and drop the subject. for now, at least.

“i’ll go for today, but you’ve teased me twice already,” you say. then you lean forward, whispering into his ear, “next time i come, i won’t be leaving until i get what i want.”

.

part 3 will be the last part! also tumblr has been buggy recently and won’t let me tag some people... i’m sorry if your name is here but you didn’t get a notification :(

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

(comment to be added!)

[prettyiwa]

and you love me

Relationship: Sakura Haruka x GN!Reader Content Tags: Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Talks of Marriage/Proposals, Awkward & Nervous Sakura, Established Relationship, Small Insecurities, Sakura & Reader are in their late 20s, Sakura still falls for Suo's light deceptions, Pre-Marital Hand Holding Summary: Suo once teased Nirei when Sakura was around and Sakura took it to heart. You don't find out about it until it leads to an interesting conversation that changes the course of your relationship. Word Count: 1,945

A/N: This has been rotting my brain for the last couple of days. Very special thanks to @startcarvingdarling and @owoasis for putting me on this train of thought and preventing me from being able to move on. Also tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics because it's important to me that she's here for my Haruka thoughts. I love you all very much.

Additionally, I make a furin reference: the gaiken is the shell of the wind chime, and the zetsu is the bell clapper. Forgive me for the blatant wind breaker simile.

It happens after dinner one random Saturday in June.

Beyond the sounds from the sink as you wash the dishes and gentle clink as Haruka loads the rack beside you, your home is silent. Dinner was perfect, a combined effort between the two of you, something that would’ve been unlikely even just three years ago. The night has you feeling content in the domesticity, earned after a hard week’s work. Every now and then, your cat will meow, asking for attention, but it’s not enough to pull you from your thoughts.

“Hey, Haruka?”

Beside you, he offers little more than a quick glance, eyes returning to the last pan you offer him. “Hn?”

“What if…,” you start, the thought still forming, “for our next trip we visit a ryokan?”

He scoffs, the sound lacking any real bite. “Next trip? We just got back from Osaka last week.”

“I know.” Clicking your tongue against your teeth, you catch the slight uptick of the corner of his lips. “I was thinking maybe sometime next summer? When things slow down for us again. We could choose one that offers kashikiri.”

He stills, hands freezing where they hold the pan and dish towel, though you think little of it, drying your own hands. Deliberately, he places the pan in the dish rack before turning to meet you, asking, “Wh-Why’re you talkin’ like we’re already married?”

You hum, taking a moment to process his question before it hits you, causing you to pause. There’s a slight strain in his voice that urges you to turn. Your favorite blush adorns his cheeks, not as pink as you’ve ever seen, but certainly enough to know he’s feeling a little flustered. Your eyes flit to his fists, to the one resting on the counter’s edge and the other that grips the dish towel so tightly his knuckles are turning white. It’s clear to you that he didn’t mean it as a complaint, more like… he’s surprised.

“Does it bother you? Me, making plans for us like this? So far ahead?” The question is sincere, a quiet worry of yours coming to life. He’s always had a hard time telling you no. Whenever you two go out, he seems to have fun, so it’s possible he doesn’t want to tell you no, but could you have pushed some boundary he’s struggled to voice?

Blush deepening, his eyes go wide. “N-No! That’s not what I meant! It doesn’t bother me!” His voice hitches in the way it does when he worries he’s offended you, and his hands come up, the dish towel swaying as he frantically tries to find a way to remedy this supposed slight. Cute. “I didn’t mean it like it’s a bad thing!”

With your smile, he breathes again, still a little strained. The cat meows again, this time coming to rub against his leg, and his shoulders start to relax. “It’s okay. I never know if I’m pushing us when you don’t want me to, and it’s okay to tell me to slow down. This is your relationship, too.”

Four years together and he still worries about insulting you, just as you still worry about moving faster than he’s ready.

He bristles, brows furrowing as his hands come down, and you can guess his next words before he utters them with a pout. “Stop that, will you? It’s not like I don’t wanna marry you or anything. I-I was just—”

Your body registers it before your mind does, the breath seemingly stolen from your lungs as your heart kicks into overdrive. It hits, ringing like the zetsu as it claps against the gaiken, a startling clarity as his words take hold, sparking your slow smile. Though you understand, it takes a moment for your voice to catch up, and you step forward. He remains frozen in place, his eyes tracking your movement.

Just like you, it looks like he struggles to breathe.

“You want to marry me?”

Your words do the trick, snapping him out of it as he takes half a step back, pointing a finger at you in surprise. “That’s—! I—!”

Does he think he’s said too much? That he’s scared you off?

“You know,” you say, unable to help yourself, your smile growing until it reaches cheek to cheek, “I wouldn’t say no if you asked.”

“You—!” He’s always been so easy to read. His breath catches once more, chest frozen with his sharp inhale as he holds onto it. Your words float between you two and he begins to catch them, one by one, piecing them together with eyes that start to soften. Dropping his finger, his mouth opens and closes before he blurts out, “You’d wanna marry me?”

Incredulity sits heavy on his tongue, and you’re reminded of the way he once hesitated to accept your confession years ago, still carrying lingering adolescent insecurities.

Again, you step forward, lifting your hand with your palm facing upward. His eyes flicker down to your offering and he finally sets down the dish towel, placing his hand in yours, letting you ground him as you’ve done countless times before. It’s a little clammy, though you’ve come to expect that from a nervous Haruka over the years, always something you’ve found a little endearing.

“Yes.”

His fingers come to squeeze your palm and you squeeze back, encouraging the stress to escape on his exhale. Needing a moment, his eyes drift around your home. It’s not technically shared, but he’s over enough that it almost feels like it. You watch as he looks around, undeniably catching on the signs of you two together—the dishes you both finished, drying in the rack; the framed pressed flowers from your first date, still hosting a lovely red hue; the table and chairs he once helped carry up; the black cat you once joked about naming after him because of its white mittens and golden eyes.

When he meets your gaze again, he’s softer, though worry still sits on his brow and in the set of his mouth. You’re patient with him as you always are, watching his slow inhale, his slow exhale, the way he builds the courage to speak.

“You’d really marry me?” There’s still doubt lingering, the same minute disbelief that you’ve been combating the entire time you’ve known him.

“Yes, Haruka. I would.”

“Oh,” he breathes, lowering his gaze to your joined hands.

“Oh?” Tilting your head, you try to catch his attention.

His eyes flicker to yours and pink dusts his cheeks before he pulls on your joined hands, bringing you close. There’s this flash of triumph at your surprise, though it’s diminished by the pink across his nose. That doesn’t stop him from leaning in and rewarding you with a chaste kiss.

Unable to maintain eye contact after, he lets you lead him to the sofa. Flicking on the television, you put on that movie you two never finished, letting him stew in his thoughts, more than aware of what’s been dropped in his lap and what it means to him. Fingers intertwining with yours, he relaxes when you loosely press against his side. Not enough to feel your full weight, but enough to know you’re there.

Your mind starts to wander again and you decide to broach your original topic. “If you don’t want to go to a ryokan, we could visit Sendai for Tanabata instead.”

His fingers tighten around yours, subtly requesting your attention. “Never said I didn’t wanna go to a ryokan,” he mumbles, watching you from the corner of his eyes.

“Oh? I just assumed— Wait. What made you associate the ryokan with being married?”

“It’s— Just… It’s nothin’ to worry about,” he sighs, looking away as his ears turn pink.

A smile pulls at your lips, one you actively try to suppress. “No, no, I want to hear.”

He pulls away slightly, leaning against his left arm as he pointedly looks anywhere but you. It does little but stoke your curiosity, so you lean into him, aware of the way it encourages him to spill.

His brows furrow as he looks at you, his resolve crumbling. When the words come, he glances away again. “Suo and Nirei said—”

“Hold on, really quick. Did Suo say and Nirei ‘agreed,’” you clarify, well aware of Suo’s propensity for tricking his old classmates, “or did Suo and Nirei actively say this?”

Warmth radiates from him as his cheeks flush, eyes flicking to you, then away. “Nirei was talking somethin’ or other about taking his fiance to a ryokan in Kyoto and Suo said something about how kashikiri was only for married couples and… He was lying again, wasn’t he?”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder, your fingers tighten around his. You shift, instead pressing your lips to his shoulder, barely able to contain your laughter, but not your smile. Not trusting your voice, you nod, watching with glee as disappointment hits. His free hand comes up, hiding his face for a moment before continuing, running his fingers through his hair. You watch as it falls back in place before speaking.

“You’ve gotta stop believing him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nudges you with his shoulder, looking down at where you remain, that soft smile of his present, just for you to see.

The topic of marriage and future vacations doesn’t come up again for the rest of the night, though his relative silence speaks volumes. The two of you bask in each other’s company, in a movie whose plot you lost a half hour before, in the cat that’s always loved Haruka a bit more than you. It’s not until you’re both getting ready for bed that it comes up again.

The air around him shifts, tenses like it does when he has something important to say but is struggling to find the words. He pauses, fingers pulling on his pillow, and his eyes remain fixated on the bed when he finally finds his voice.

“I… don’t have a ring or anything,” he starts, each word strung together with such astounding effort, “but I… I want…”

When he looks at you, you see all the times he’s ever been careful with you, all of the times he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and has been obvious about his love for you. Your throat goes dry and your heart feels full in your chest, fluttering against your ribs, making the rest of you feel light. His eyes follow the curve of your smile as it grows and you hear it clearly without it being spoken.

“Would you like to get married, Haruka?”

The blush is instantaneous and full bodied, reminding you of when you confessed four years ago. You know his answer, even as he sputters and tries to calm his stuttering heart. He tries to get it out anyway, and he does, sort of, his smile slow to come after everything settles. He’s warmer than usual when he pulls you to him, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

About a half hour later, when his lips are pressed against your shoulder, he murmurs, “H-Hey. Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you?”

“You want to ask me?” As much as you try to turn to properly look at him, he keeps you in place, arms forming a vice around your center (probably to try and prevent the very thing you hope to accomplish). Accepting that you’ll get nowhere right now, you rest your arm on his, letting your fingers trace delicate patterns on the back of his hand.

You take his silence as a quiet ‘yes.’

“I can wait, Haruka. I’m not going anywhere.”

leaf in your hair | on patrol | hanakotoba masterlist | wbk masterlist

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

Oh my this is perfect for sweetheart and Jae 🥺🥺 immediately thought of them when I saw this! https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT2aLCcQ4/

yes, finally some happy fluffiness. Everyone thank anon because I was going to let us all stew in the angst of last week

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ bf ranks types of kisses ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You plop yourself down beside fratboy!Jaehyun with an excited smile. Jaehyun feels a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, that can only mean one thing... a TikTok. It's probably going to be some trend that leaves him scared or embarrassed and he just braces himself for the chaos that is no undoubtedly coming his way.

You smile at him, all too calmly for the unease he feels, "I have another filter for us to try."

He groans, leaning away with a whine, "Sweets, I don't want to think about you doing weird shit with people that aren't me. Especially foot stuff."

You coo at him, cupping his cheek and placing a barrage of affectionate kisses across his cheeks, "Baby, I promise this isn't weird. No foot stuff as far as I know. It's a cute one, I promise you'll like it." You press your forehead against his, batting your lashes with a pout, "do it for me please?"

He rolls his eyes, exhaling dramatically, "fine. What is this one?"

You squeal excitedly, "ok so in this filter you're going to rank different types of kisses. When it stops, I'll give you the kiss and you'll rank them."

He nods with a smug smirk on his face, "I can get behind that, Sweetheart."

You set the camera up, making sure you and Jaehyun are in frame and the filter is on him. With the self-timer set, you sit back beside your boyfriend, watching as he squints at the screen as he waits to see the first kiss option.

"First one... hand kiss," he reads off the screen. You grab his hand and place a peck to the back of his hand. He hums, "pretty basic, 5."

The filter shuffled through various little pictures until stopping on... "Sweetheart, you told me this had no foot stuff."

Your jaw dropped, "I didn't know! I'm not kissing your foot!"

"I don't want you to kiss my foot, ew. Immediate 10."

The filter went on and on. Neck kiss 3. Nose kiss 8. Air kiss 9, because according to Jaehyun, "why would I want some air when I can have your lips?" Cheek kiss 4. Earlobe kiss 7.

"Alright last few, let's see..." you trailed off. You knew there were some missing options that other people had gotten.

You both watched as the filter shuffled on and on, finally landing on, "bite kiss."

Jaehyun whines, "wait no, I don't want this one."

"Too bad," you grin. Leaning in you press a kiss to his cheek before very gently sinking your teeth into the fat of his cheek. He groans and you just laugh playfully biting just a little harder before he pushes you away with a hand on your forehead.

"6 since it's the lowest I can go now," he mutters.

"You love it, you liar," you tease playfully.

The next kiss has Jaehyun blushing before you can even act on it. You gently cup his cheeks, guiding his face so he looks at you. Then, very gently you lean in and press a kiss on his forehead. Your lipgloss leaves a a perfect mark right at the center of his forehead and he silently ranks the forehead kiss as number 2. It's not the first time you've kissed his forehead, he hopes it won't be he last, but it already ranked as one of his favorites.

"Last one," you mumble, watching as the little yellow squares change rapidly until finally landing on French kiss.

He smirks at you, "well, Sweets? I'm waiting."

You roll your eyes, watching as Jaehyun holds out a hand to cover both your faces from the camera and leans closer to your face. You cup his face once more, pressing your lips against his. Right away his lips move against yours fervently, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him of course, for the filter. His tongue glides against your own, invading the hot warm heat of your mouth with a dreamy sigh.

He grunts, dropping his hand to cup the back of your neck, angling your face to get better access and better leverage. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, kissing you fervently like he needs you to breathe. It's easy to forget that there's a camera pointed right at you, recording the both of you, and probably now out of time.

Thankfully, you have half a mind to pull away from the kiss before it becomes anything steamier. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, reaching for your phone to cut out the kiss and edit the video so just a short clip of Jaehyun's hand covering both your faces.

You don't even notice how disheveled you both look when you start the video again. His hair is a mess, both of your lips are swollen, and your lipgloss is all over his mouth. You at least had the decency to wipe your mouth and fix your hair with your fingers.

He smirks at the camera, "that was going to be in the first place even without the demonstration."

You roll your eyes, changing the subject, "are you happy with your ranking?"

"Yeah, it's pretty solid," he nods, looking over his ranking on the side of the screen, "hey, wouldn't it be fun if they included an Australian kiss?"

"Australian kiss? What is that?" You ask with a confused cock of your head.

He smiles smugly, "it's like a French kiss except it's down und-"

You screech, slapping a hand over his mouth, "Jung Jaehyun!"

-

Jaehyun's ranking below the cut

[see-arcane]

Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.

Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!

 ‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.

This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:

“Well. Why don’t I make something?”

And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)

So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…

FICTION

Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:

The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…

Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.

Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.

Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)

The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.

Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.

Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes

The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man

Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles

Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves

…

……

………

…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)

The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.

What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.

The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.  

NONFICTION

Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.

‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.

Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ‘new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.  

“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.  

Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.

 “The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.

…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.

This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.

[casuallyanidiot]

Ok, first of your yandere stories are to DIE FOR. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAAAH! I'M SO GLAD I FOUND YOU.

and second of all, I can't get enough of that scummy asshat Danny(as fcked up as that is). My mind just makes up this what ifs scenarios and I just had to ask--

- you mentioned that Danny liked her for years now, assuming it went back all the way to their highschool years, and his pride of being seen with someone as her kept him from acting up, i was wondering WHAT IF someone (another yandere perhaps?) just suddenly appears and swoops(or attempts) to swoop her away? (kinda like a yandere!city boy v.s. yandere!farmboy AAAH)

- and with the main story with Daniel, what if some guy (a or THE yandere!city boy maybe) comes knocking in the [Last Name] house's doorstep, claiming that he was the one who did that to her that night and is planning to take full responsibility? What will Daniel do?

-AND finally, what if they're married right? And like yandere!city boy or maybe yandere!business man, takes an interest on her despite knowing she's already married?

Sorry, it's a lot, my mind just can't stop running right now 💀 , no pressure in answering of course! Just curious on what the scenarios would be if those were to happen and also again, I love your yandere stories and characters so much AHH and I haven't even read the rest yet! 💖💖

Having someone from outside of the community around who is interested in the reader would certainly shake things up. Compared to Danny, Yandere City Boy isn't well trusted by the town. It's not that he's bad or mistreated, but there's an air of mystery about him that people don't really like. No family background, nothing to base opinions off of... he's a black hole in terms of reputation.

A large part of Danny's control over the reader is the fact that she has no one to turn to, so if the Yandere City Boy shows up and suddenly starts pursuing her, it means that there's at least one avenue that she has to escape him.

Not only would Danny be jealous, but he'd be afraid of losing for the first time.

He'd be furious that someone besides himself even thought of Reader in that way. She's supposed to be his secret, his girl that he chases in his mind. All these years of hard work go out the window if some asshole city dweller who doesn't know his head from his ass goes and fucks it all up.

If yandere City boy tried to pursue the reader back in high school, then Danny would've acted sooner. He might inform your folks that some strange guy is sniffing around, or he might just go full throttle and try to get you to date him instead of some random guy who doesn't deserve you.

I think Danny would also feel surprisingly secure if he had already married reader when the Yandere City Boy turned up. Like, he's already gotten her so far under his control at that point that he doesn't even fathom that she could still dream of being away from him. I think he'd genuinely believe the reader loved him back, or at least appreciated the life he gave them enough to not leave. Of course, his arrogance could then lead to her actually getting stolen.

Danny would be the most livid if the City boy tried to claim that he was the one who got the reader pregnant. In Danny's eyes, he was the one who put in all that effort into finally catching you. I mean, it's perfect for him. You're in a tough spot, no one else believes you, and you have no one else to turn to but him. It's literally years of pining and desperation spun into one sinister plot that he's finally caught you in, and someone else is taking credit? No way. Not on his watch.

I think he'd try to spin it in a different way. Like, you said someone forced themselves on you right? Well if the City boy is claiming he's the father of your baby, then he must be the one who did such horrible things to you!

Danny would use his family's influence and money to make it so that your very own words would be twisted against the City boy, and the crime would be pinned on him instead. I think he'd really get his hands dirty in that scenario and try to get rid of his competition for certain. And hey, while he's locked away in jail, wouldn't it be terrible if something happened to him?

But yeah I think Danny would honestly respond to a rival differently based on how far along he was in his plan on obtaining the reader.

[deathbxnny]

HEHEHEHEH HELLO AGAIN BXXNY!!!

I am so obsessed with this man even if he doesn't do big pp DMG and I have no idea how to use him he's still on my team (with Yelan Klee and Zhongli)

ANYWAYS!! Kinich with a girlfriend that's like his childhood best friend, both pretty obsessed with each other tbh, but Ajaw is a little shit that loves making Kinich's life hell, so he acts all sweet with reader, always crying crocodile tears to her and just sucking up to her, basking in all the attention and cuddles she gives him while making sure to paint Kinich in a bad light.

Of course reader knows Ajaw's little plan... but she does love seeing Kinich so frustrated, so she always agrees with Ajaw... I'll leave the rest to you!

(I'm so happy to get this other idea out you have no idea)

Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. | Kinich x Fem!Reader feat. Ajaw

I want to kiss your brain, dear moot!! Your idea is so good, I could eat it for dinner rn!!<33

Content: Jealous Kinich, established relationship, Ajaw being a menace as usual, fluff, kinda unserious, sfw

Reader is asked to be fem/afab!

((Not proofread))

Ajaw was always determined to make Kinich's life a living hell out pure of spite. Nothing else brought him so much joy, and therefore, he used all his free times to scheme and plan his next evil shenanigans against him. It wasn't an easy thing to do by no means, though, since the man was often unbothered and indifferent by his presence, going so far as to banish the dragon lord at times to get rid of him momentarily.

But all of his hard work became a lot lighter when you and Kinich finally became a couple after years of being "just friends". The dragon lord saw his golden opportunity for the perfect revenge, one he achieved through your kind, unsuspecting heart and kindness towards him.

To you, Ajaw could do no wrong. No matter what it was, you often took his side when he whined and gave you those perfectly teary eyes whilst accusing Kinich of being mean to HIM. That produced much better results than anything the dragon lord could've ever planned, and it brought him indescribable joy to see his dear companions visible annoyance.

Now, you ofcourse were very much aware of Ajaw's silly, evil plans, but seeing your boyfriend so easily angered and jealous at the attention you gave the menace of a creature he was stuck with, was unfortunately too cute to pass up. Of course, you'd make it up to him with gentle kisses and cuddle sessions... but until then, you played along.

Whenever Ajaw came flying to you out of "fear", after Kinich "threatened" to put him in time-out again, you'd coo at his plight and pat him on the head, a playful and sympathetic pout in your lips that ticked your boyfriend off.

At times, he'd even interrupt your time together during dates, demanding attention in the most dramatic ways possible, knowing how jealous it made the man who was very much obsessed with you. He could never be angry at you, but Ajaw was not spared from his wrath. He tried to stay calm and remind himself that it was all just to get a reaction out of him, but it was hard when he was close to reaching over and strangling him.

You eventually had to stop your games to calm him down and remind him that it was all indeed just playful banter... especially after Ajaw received the darkest glare known to man, when he attempted to ruin another date with you.

The allmighty dragon lord miraculously stopped his plans for a while, mainly because he suddenly didn't feel like facing your loving boyfriend's wrath after all...

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

I think of mc being very protective of her friends being a orphan and all. someone says the gaunts are all dark wizards? they are in the hospital wing for two weeks under strange circumstances. someone starts a nasty rumor about why Anne really left hogwarts? The worst tripping hex gets everyone who repeats the rumor. someone insults sebastian, you better pray that mc didn't hear about it she's coming for you

The Things We Do for Family | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

oh I loooooved this concept!!!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I really hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!! :')

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Humor, Protective MC

There are things that Hogwarts students simply know—unchallenged truths, whispered warnings passed down from year to year.

The Forbidden Forest is dangerous. Peeves is a menace. The best snacks at Honeydukes sell out by Saturday afternoon. Don’t trust the staircases to take you where you actually want to go. Never accept Garreth Weasley’s offer to ‘test something out’.

And, under no circumstances, should anyone fuck with your friends.

It isn’t official, of course. There’s no school decree, no printed rule in the Hogwarts handbook, it's not carved into the walls. It’s just… understood.

It’s not like you’re some fearsome monster or anything.

You’re a model student, by all accounts. Brilliant. Sharp. Precise. A skilled duelist, a quick thinker, someone who turns in their assignments on time, answers when called on, and doesn’t cause disruptions in class.

You don’t start fights. You don’t pick pointless arguments. You don’t openly break the rules—not in ways that can be proven.

You play the part well.

Because that’s what you had to do.

You grew up alone. No parents. No siblings. No one to step in when things got hard, no one to defend you when the world was cruel. When you were small, scared, and helpless.

So you learned.

You learned that no one was coming to save you. You learned that fairness was a lie, that justice only existed when you carved it out with your own hands. You learned that people could be awful for no reason other than that they could get away with it.

But now? Now, you have a family. Not by blood, but by choice.

And when someone speaks against them? Bad things happen.

The Ominis Incident

It started, as most things did, with a careless remark.

A fifth-year Ravenclaw—smart but not particularly bright—thought it would be amusing to make a joke at Ominis Gaunt’s expense. A cruel one. Something about how the Gaunts were all inbred lunatics, how it was only a matter of time before Ominis ended up just like the rest of his family.

The words reached your ears in the library, drifting from a table not far from where you sat.

"You know I hear they torture Muggles for fun—it’s practically a family tradition. Gaunts don’t have hobbies, just a long history of inbreeding and Crucio."

Laughter followed, a few snickers from their table, hushed but not nearly enough. Not nearly enough to keep you from hearing.

Your quill stilled mid-word, ink pooling in place. Across from you, Ominis sat straight-backed, his expression unreadable, but you saw the way his fingers tightened around the book he was holding, knuckles whitening from the force of it.

He wouldn’t say anything.

Ominis had spent years perfecting the art of indifference. Of carefully controlled expressions, of blank politeness that masked far too much. He never reacted to comments like these.

But just because he wouldn’t didn’t mean you wouldn’t.

You exhaled slowly, carefully. Then, without a sound, you closed your book and stood.

Not a word. Not a glare in their direction. Just a smooth, effortless departure, as if you had suddenly decided the library was boring and somewhere else required your attention.

The Ravenclaws barely noticed.

But they would. They absolutely would. Because Potions class was a very dangerous place. Especially for people who talked too much.

The next day, you walked to Potions without a care in the world.

Sebastian and Ominis flanked you, deep in conversation about some essay Sharp had assigned, with Sebastian whining dramatically about how unfairly long it was, while Ominis countered that perhaps he should have started it earlier than the night before it was due.

You weren’t really listening, because you already knew what was coming.

And sure enough—just as you reached the dungeon corridor—

BOOM.

The floor trembled slightly beneath your feet. A deep, echoing explosion, the unmistakable sound of a cauldron detonating mid-brew, followed almost immediately by the frantic shouting of students.

Gasps. Choking coughs. Someone let out a screech of absolute horror.

Sebastian and Ominis startled.

Sebastian’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he looked toward the dungeon doors. “What the hell—”

Ominis twitched beside you, tilting his head, as if straining to listen.

You? Didn’t even blink. You just kept walking, calmly, like nothing was amiss, like you hadn’t been expecting it for the last twenty-four hours.

Sebastian noticed. His gaze sharpened, flicking to you with a knowing squint. “That was—”

He hesitated. Then narrowed his eyes further.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I know that face.”

You raised a brow. “What face?”

“That’s your I-did-something-but-you’ll-never-prove-it face.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian scoffed and Ominis rolled his eyes, deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Then the dungeon doors burst open.

A thick cloud of green smoke billowed out, sending students stumbling and coughing into the corridor. And in the center of it all, a group of very, very green Ravenclaws.

They clawed at their own skin, staring down at their hands in absolute horror. Their faces were the exact shade of an overripe toadstool, splotchy and uneven, and every time they opened their mouths, their tongues flopped out two inches too long.

Hysteria ensued.

Students gasped, some shrieked, others tried not to laugh. Professor Sharp stormed out after them, looking beyond exhausted, already massaging his temples.

“I told you,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “not to add the peppermint extract.”

“WE DIDN’T!” One Ravenclaw wailed, voice garbled from their too-long tongue. “I—I don’t know what happened! We did everything right!”

Sharp did not look convinced.

Sebastian looked at you, long and slow, a glint of admiration dawning in his eyes.

“Did you—”

“I did nothing.” You walked past him, as if the entire debacle were none of your concern. “I was with you all day, wasn’t I?”

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Yeah, but—”

“No proof, no crime.” You gave him a cheerful smile before stepping into the classroom.

Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I love you.”

It was offhanded, thoughtless, a casual jest, but it sent a sharp, pleasant warmth down your spine.

You didn’t react, though. Just smirked, settling into your seat. Because the message had been sent.

And Ominis Gaunt would never hear a word against his name again.

The Anne Incident

Rumors at Hogwarts were a force of nature.

They swirled through the halls, slipping between whispered conversations and behind cupped hands, growing more twisted with each retelling.

Some were harmless—who was dating who, which professor had it out for which student, the occasional Did you hear Peeves stole all the ink from the Ravenclaws again? But some? Some were cruel.

And this one... this one was about Anne Sallow.

It started at breakfast, when you overheard a group of Slytherin sixth-years in the Great Hall. You weren’t eavesdropping—not intentionally—but you had a habit of noticing things, of hearing too much when you weren’t meant to.

"Did you hear about Sallow’s sister?"

"Yeah, I heard she went mad."

"Lost it completely. The curse must’ve rotted her brain."

"That’s why she left, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I heard she tried to hex someone in her sleep—"

Your fork warped in your grasp. A slow, controlled bend beneath your fingers, the metal bending in your grip.

Across from you, Sebastian had gone still.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t react. Didn’t give them the satisfaction.

But you saw the way his jaw clenched. The way his hand curled into a fist against the table. The way his entire body had gone taut, locked in place by sheer force of will.

He wouldn’t do anything.

Not because he didn’t want to. Not because he wasn’t capable of it—because he was.

Sebastian Sallow could be ruthless. You knew that better than anyone. You’d seen it firsthand, the sharp edges of his temper, the way his rage burned hot and all-consuming, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. You’d seen what happened when he felt cornered, when he thought he was out of options.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore. Because you and Ominis had dragged him back from the brink. Because you had looked him in the eye, years ago, when the dust had settled and the worst of it was over, and told him:

"You still have a future. Don’t throw it away."

Against all odds, he had listened. And now, this was his last year at Hogwarts and he was going to be an Auror. He was going to start over. Prove that he wasn’t just some reckless, violent delinquent one step away from Azkaban.

So no—he wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t take the bait. Wouldn't defend Anne, no matter how badly he wanted to. Wouldn’t let himself be dragged down into the same pit he’d barely crawled out of.

Sebastian was playing the long game.

But you? You weren’t.

Your revenge on Anne's behalf started small. Almost imperceptible.

The first Slytherin—the one who had started the conversation in the first place—was walking to class when it happened.

A single misstep.

His foot caught on something—thin air, perhaps—and he staggered forward, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to right himself. It didn’t work. His books went flying, parchment scattered across the stone corridor, and a bottle of ink tumbled from his bag, shattering upon impact and staining his robes in an ugly, irreversible mess of black.

A small accident. An unfortunate case of bad luck.

No one thought anything of it—until the second one fell.

In the exact same spot.

And then the third. And the fourth.

By the time lunch rolled around, all four of them had tripped at least half a dozen times each.

It wasn’t just limited to the corridor, either. They stumbled on staircases, barely catching themselves before they could go tumbling down. They walked straight into walls as if the castle itself had turned against them. One even managed to trip over absolutely nothing in the middle of the Great Hall and landed face-first into his own soup.

The snickers started soon after. The sideways glances. The poorly hidden laughter from classmates who found their sudden clumsiness far too entertaining.

It wasn’t enough to be suspicious.

Not yet.

Not until the moving staircase.

The ringleader of the group had spent too much time lingering in the courtyard after lunch, chatting up a group of girls who barely tolerated his presence. He realized too late that he was running behind and bolted toward Charms, racing up the moving staircases with zero grace and even less caution.

And then his foot caught.

There was nothing there. No loose stone or shift in the staircase, nothing at all to explain why he suddenly lost his footing.

But he did.

He stumbled backward, arms flailing wildly, fingers grasping at empty air as the momentum carried him too far—

And he plummeted.

Three flights.

A blur of robes and limbs, a crash of bone against stone, and then a sickening thud as he landed in a groaning, crumpled heap at the bottom.

A hush fell over the corridor.

Then—

Shrieking.

His friends rushed down to him, voices panicked, eyes wide with horrified realization as they took in his bruised, trembling form.

A girl ran to fetch Madam Blainey.

By the time she arrived, he was whimpering, clutching his arm like it might’ve snapped.

Hospital Wing. Immediate bed rest.

No one could explain what happened. No professor could find a cause. Some students claimed the stairs had shifted unexpectedly. Others swore that they saw nothing—no trick step, no loose stones, just an unseen force pulling him down.

It didn’t matter.

The moment he was carried off, you finally allowed yourself to smile.

Not a smirk. Not a grin. Just the smallest, most satisfied twitch of your lips.

Sebastian caught it. Because of course he did. He had been standing beside you the whole time. Silent. Still. Watching from the moment that asshole Slytherin stumbled earlier that morning to the moment he was carted off for medical attention.

And now? Now, he just exhaled, long and slow, shaking his head as his mouth curved into something unreadable.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice low.

You hummed, tilting your head in faux curiosity. “Am I?”

Sebastian turned fully then, facing you. His gaze searched your face, for guilt perhaps. For remorse. For something that might suggest you hadn’t meant for it to happen.

But there was nothing.

No trace of hesitation. No flicker of shame.

You were calm, collected, an completely unapologetic. Because nobody talked about Anne Sallow like that without consequence.

Sebastian blinked. Then, to your absolute delight, he grinned. Wide. Slow. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Yeah. You're very dangerous” he said, almost in awe.

Your stomach twisted. You ignored it. Instead, you just shrugged, voice as casual as ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian’s grin deepened.

The Poppy Incident

Poppy Sweeting was one of the best people you knew.

Kind-hearted, patient, and too good for the world, really. She spent more time in the company of magical creatures than she did with most people, and honestly? You couldn't blame her.

Because people could be cruel.

You first heard it one afternoon in the courtyard. A group of girls whispering amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands. You hadn’t been paying much attention—until you heard her name.

"Honestly, she’s weird."

"I know, right? It’s like she’d rather date a bloody Hippogriff than an actual person."

"Wouldn’t be surprised if she actually has."

Laughter, sharp and mocking. Like Poppy Sweeting was a joke. Like she was less than because she chose kindness over cruelty, creatures over people who didn’t deserve her time in the first place.

You turned your head and watched as one girl—a Hufflepuff, ironically—rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exaggerated exasperation.

"Beast-lover," she muttered, nose wrinkled like the word itself was distasteful. "It's unnatural, really. No wonder she doesn't have any friends outside of her precious Mooncalves."

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You had no doubt Poppy had heard it. She was standing just a few paces away near the fountain, hands clenched tight at her sides.

She didn’t react. Didn’t turn. Didn’t say anything. She just exhaled, slow and quiet, like she was forcing herself to let it go.

You wouldn’t.

The next morning, that very same Hufflepuff woke up covered in fur.

Not all over, just her face.

A thick, fluffy coat of golden-brown fuzz, soft as a Puffskein, sprouting in wild patches across her forehead, cheeks, and chin.

According to Poppy, the screams started immediately, and the entire girls dormitory had woken up to it.

The girl, who turned out to be a fifth-year, had flown into a hysterical panic, shrieking as she bolted for a mirror, hands frantically scrubbing at her face like she could rub the fur away.

She couldn’t.

It was a very specific hex. One that lasted exactly one week.

Professor Ronen was baffled.

Madam Blainey was thoroughly fascinated.

And Professor Howin, bless her, had cooed over her like she was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. You had a front row seat to the entire thing during Beasts class.

“This is truly fascinating,” she’d said, holding the girl’s chin and turning her face slightly toward the light. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen transfiguration manifest quite like this! And so soft—feels just like a Kneazle’s coat, doesn’t it?”

The best part? It wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t painful. Just… humiliating.

You considered it a job well done.

When Howin had dismissed you for lunch, Poppy pulled you aside. She didn't say anything at first. Just stared.

You blinked at her, tilting your head. “Everything alright?”

Poppy squinted. Narrowed her eyes slightly. Huffed.

"You did that, didn’t you?"

You blinked again.

Because Poppy—sweet, gentle, pacifist Poppy—did not accuse people of things. Which meant she was completely certain.

You just smiled, giving her your most innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Poppy just sighed, shaking her head. But then—just for a moment—she smiled.

Small. Subtle. Grateful.

Like she knew exactly what you’d done. Like she knew there was no use arguing, no point in telling you not to go to such lengths for her.

And then, without a word, she reached out and squeezed your hand.

The Natsai Incident

You had never liked Callum Thorne.

Seventh-year. Gryffindor. Arrogant. Loud-mouthed. The kind of person who had never been told no in his life and walked through Hogwarts like the world owed him something.

You’d tolerated him for years, mostly because you hadn’t needed to interact with him much. But this? This was different.

You were starting the day with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hecat had yet to arrive, leaving the class unsupervised and giving Thorne the perfect opportunity to make a scene.

Natty was speaking with Poppy near the front of the room, voice calm as she explained something about the Ministry’s policies on magical creatures in Africa compared to Britain. She wasn’t being loud, wasn’t even arguing, just explaining.

That’s when Thorne scoffed.

“Merlin’s sake, Onai, give it a rest,” he sneered from the back of the room, tossing his quill onto his desk with an exaggerated huff. “Do you ever get tired of standing on that bloody soapbox of yours?”

The room went still.

Natty turned, slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable, regarding him with that same poised, unshaken calm that made her such a force to be reckoned with.

“I was simply having a discussion,” she said smoothly. “No one is forcing you to listen, Thorne.”

“Right,” he drawled. “Except you never shut up about it. Always talking about ‘justice’ and ‘change’ like you think you’re going to fix the whole bloody world.” He smirked. “News flash, Onai—no one cares.”

A few of his friends chuckled.

Your fingernails dug into your palm.

Natty didn’t react—not outwardly, anyway. She just exhaled, slow and measured, and turned back to Poppy like his words had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

You? You were already plotting his downfall, and luckily, Callum Thorne was a creature of habit.

He always stayed out after curfew to flirt with whatever unfortunate girl he had chosen that week, and he always went up to the Astronomy Tower afterwards with his friends to play cards and drink whatever contraband alcohol they’d smuggled into the castle.

Which made him the perfect target.

That night, as the seventh-year tidied up the cards, stretching and yawning, likely already thinking about his warm bed waiting for him—

His legs froze in place. Not a Full Body-Bind. No, this was different.

A soft, subtle hex. A slow, creeping sensation, his feet adhering to the stone beneath him, then his calves, then his thighs.

By the time he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

He tried to step forward—failed. Tried to yank himself free—failed.

And then—with agonizing slowness—his entire body began to lift off the ground. No warning. No control.

He drifted upward, weightless, helpless, arms flailing as the stone ceiling came closer and closer—

And then, with a soft thump, he was stuck. Face-down, body pressed flat against the Astronomy Tower ceiling.

His screaming started immediately.

Loud. Panicked. A complete meltdown.

His friends, who had started their walk down the tower came bolting back up the stairs at the sound of his shouting.

“What the—?” one of them started, eyes wide as they gawked at the ceiling.

“Thorne?” another asked, dumbfounded.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back laughter as you hid beneath your disillusionment charm.

“GET ME DOWN!” Thorne bellowed, arms and legs flailing uselessly against the stone. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?”

His friends stared, uselessly waving their wands, muttering counterspells that only resulted in Thorne spinning in slow circles, howling in distress.

When they realized they were utterly helpless, panic completely set in.

“What do we do?” one of them asked, looking between the others with wild eyes. “Should we get a professor?”

Thorne snarled. “NO! DO NOT—”

But it was too late. Because at that very moment, the Astronomy Tower door swung open once again, and a very tired, very unimpressed Professor Shah stepped inside.

There was a long, painful beat of silence.

Shah took in the scene.

The stack of contraband firewhiskey bottles on the table. The panicked seventh-years, wands still drawn, looking entirely too guilty. And Callum Thorne, still face-down, circling against the ceiling, hissing every curse word known to wizardkind.

She sighed, long and slow, as if she had simply had enough of this entire generation of students. Then, with an effortless flick of her wand, she cast a single spell.

And gravity returned. All at once. Thorne plummeted like a sack of bricks.

The landing was spectacular. A glorious, sprawling heap, limbs tangled, robes askew, one shoe missing entirely. His friends didn’t even try to catch him.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then—

“Hospital Wing,” Shah said simply, rubbing her temples. “Now.”

Thorne was half-carried, half-dragged down the tower steps, groaning the entire way.

And you?

You slept soundly that night.

By morning, half the school had heard the story.

"Did you hear about Thorne? Got stuck to the Astronomy Tower ceiling last night."

"He was crying by the time they got him down."

"Serves him right—bloke’s a complete asshole."

And you? You sat perfectly composed at breakfast, casually stirring your tea, listening as his friends panicked about who could have done it.

Sebastian, of course, knew.

He sat beside you, arms folded, lips pressed together, shaking with the effort not to laugh.

Finally, he exhaled, tilting his head toward you.

“You are actually unhinged,” he murmured, utterly delighted.

You simply sipped your tea. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Across the hall, Natty smiled.

Soft. Knowing.

The Sebastian Incident

You had been careful.

For years, you had woven your revenge into the shadows, never once leaving a trace of your involvement in the strange misfortunes that befell those who dared to insult your friends. You were precise, patient, undetectable.

But everyone has a breaking point. And yours? Yours was Sebastian Sallow.

It happened in the Great Hall when Scorpius Malfoy decided to idiotically open his big fucking mouth.

You hadn’t been paying attention to him at first. Why would you? People like Malfoy had never mattered to you. He was just another spoiled pureblood, another self-important waste of a surname who thought his words carried weight simply because he could afford to say them.

But then his voice cut through the din, and he said Sebastian’s name.

"No family name worth a damn, no money, no influence. Honestly, I don’t even know why the professors still put up with Sallow. And he’s an orphan, isn’t he?"

One of his friends nodded, grinning like this was some kind of joke. Like Sebastian Sallow’s entire life was nothing more than a punchline.

Malfoy snorted. "So he's got dead parents, a dead uncle, and a crippled sister who’ll probably never set foot in the wizarding world again. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up rotting in the same gutter he came from."

The words landed like a curse.

Sebastian had been mid-conversation with you, fork in hand, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he teased you about something inconsequential—some throwaway joke that would have normally earned him an eye roll and a shove.

But now? Now, he wasn’t moving. Not speaking. Not breathing. Just silent.

Rigid.

Like the weight of those words had turned him into stone.

And something inside you snapped.

It was almost funny, in retrospect, how much effort you had spent perfecting the art of subtlety.

Every step you had taken over the years had been measured, every spell carefully woven into the fabric of coincidence, every act of vengeance so meticulously placed that no one had ever been able to definitively trace it back to you. You had built a flawless reputation, balancing on the razor’s edge between brilliance and menace, justice and mystery.

But now? Now, as you rose from your seat, you weren’t careful at all.

You didn’t move like a shadow, didn’t cloak yourself in misdirection or the comfort of silence. No. This time, you wanted them to see you.

And the moment you stood, the Great Hall stilled.

Students stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped moving altogether. The clatter of plates and goblets faded into a thick, suffocating silence, as if even the walls of Hogwarts itself were holding their breath.

Your voice came out low. Cold.

"Say that one more time, Malfoy."

Scorpius turned lazily, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Like he hadn’t just spat on Sebastian’s entire existence for no other reason than because he could.

And he smirked. Merlin, he smirked. Like you were some insignificant thing, an insect buzzing too close to his ear.

“Oh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Touched a nerve, have I? Which part got to you, I wonder? The fact that Sallow’s got no family? Or the part where I pointed out that he’s got no future either?”

You took a step forward. You could hear Ominis hissing at you to stop, to think about what you were doing before you got yourself deep into shit, gut you couldn't. Not when it came to your friends.

Not when it came to Sebastian.

Especially when he still hadn't moved. Hadn’t reacted. Hadn’t so much as breathed.

Your hand tightened around your wand, the weight of it comforting, grounding, an extension of the fury curling in your chest.

"You should tread carefully, Scorpius," you murmured, your voice smooth, edged with something lethal. "I know you think you're clever—that you can say whatever you like without consequence, just because you were born into the right family."

Your head tilted slightly, gaze sharp, cutting straight through him.

"But you should know something about me by now."

Malfoy’s smirk faltered just slightly. And then, before he could open his mouth again—

You flicked your wand.

Hard. Fast.

Malfoy's goblet exploded.

A concussive blast of magic sent shards flying, the remnants of his beverage splattering across his pristine uniform like spilled blood. A jagged edge of glass sliced across his hand, thin but deep, and he flinched, eyes snapping down to it with genuine shock.

"If you're going to run your mouth about my friends," you said coolly, watching him clutch his bleeding hand, "then you should be prepared to suffer for it."

Your next spell came before he could react. Before anyone could stop you.

A sharp twist of your wrist, and his mouth was gone.

Not silenced. Not muffled. Just… gone. Smooth, unbroken skin where lips should be, like his voice had simply been erased from existence.

The realization hit him immediately.

His hands shot to his face, clawing at his skin, a muffled scream—horrified, panicked—rising in his throat. He lurched backward, knocking into one of his friends, fingers digging at face like he could carve his lips back into place.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

You needed something that would etch itself into the bones of this castle, into the minds of every single person watching in stunned silence. Something that told the whole goddamn school that if they so much as breathed wrong about Sebastian again, you would ruin them.

A simple hex would be too merciful. A standard jinx—something temporary, something easily countered—wouldn’t send the right message.

No, you needed something else. Something only you could undo.

Your wand rose, fingers tightening around the handle.

A familiar thrumming sensation curled through your bones, crackling at your fingertips, humming beneath your skin like a storm about to break. Ancient magic—the power that had followed you since the day you first stepped foot in Hogwarts, the magic that had made you different. You had never used it publicly. Never allowed yourself to tap into it in a room full of hundreds of witnesses.

Until now.

Malfoy’s body lurched.

Not by his own will, but by yours, by the ancient, crackling force curling through your veins.

The entire room gasped as he was wrenched upward, his robes twisting violently around him as though an invisible hand had grabbed him by the throat and hauled him into the sky.

He thrashed, or tried to, but the moment he moved, the spell struck.

A jolt of electricity tore through his body.

Not enough to kill. Not enough to cause permanent harm, but enough to make him scream. Or at least, he would have screamed—if he still had a mouth.

Instead, a choked, garbled sound tore from his throat, half agony, half suffocated panic, his limbs seizing as the current snapped down his spine, through his arms and legs.

And you let them watch, let the entire Great Hall bear witness as he hung there, suspended like some grotesque marionette.

And the moment he tried to move again, tried to scratch at where his mouth should be or flail his limbs, another arc of lightning danced across his body, snapping against his skin like a promise that any attempt to fight this would only make it worse.

And he knew. They all knew. He wasn’t getting down until you allowed it. But your arm didn’t waver, you held your wand high, like an executioner delivering final judgment.

Because this? This was a declaration. A statement. A message carved into the very bones of Hogwarts itself.

You do not speak against Sebastian Sallow.

You wondered if he realized that you would have done this a thousand times over. That you would have burned the entire goddamn world for him if he asked.

But before you could do anything more—before you could decide how far you were willing to take this—

A thunderous voice shattered the moment.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

The spell snapped. Malfoy dropped. His body crashed onto the table below, sending plates and goblets scattering, silverware clattering to the stone floor. He lay there, twitching, gasping, pathetically small as the last of the magic flickered out of his limbs.

And then—

"You."

Phineas Nigellus Black’s voice was pure ice.

You turned to face him—not a shred of regret, not a flicker of guilt in your expression.

But the Headmaster was raging. His hands were clenched at his sides, his teeth bared in fury.

The entire room was still. Waiting. Holding its breath.

"My office." His voice was low, lethal, like the words themselves were a curse. "Now."

A sharp inhale from someone at the Ravenclaw table. A hushed whisper from a terrified first-year.

No detention. No points docked. Just a direct order from the highest authority in the school.

But it was worth it, because now they knew. Every single person in this room knew.

And as you turned on your heel, heart still pounding with the remnants of power buzzing in your veins—

You caught Sebastian’s eyes one last time.

Still watching, still frozen in place, yet looking at you like you were the most devastating, impossible, extraordinary thing he had ever seen.

And then? The slightest smirk. The most faint, devastatingly admiring grin.

Like he had never, ever wanted anyone more.

[orionhelluvaranting]

And remember, kids, you should prioritize wisely!

Alright. I had some kind of tolerance toward these two before. Hell, I had been liked Ozzie even! Unfortunately, after "Mastermind" has released I can't stand them (or the way they're written, to be more specific) anymore! 💢

Bee and Ozzie both are supposed to be that nice and well-meaning individuals who actually care about the commoners unlike the other (bad) capitalists. In fact, they're just two bratty kids who'd rather bully some loser than do philanthropy. But Viv with the standom are so desperate to prove us otherwise. And that's so annoying!

Evidently Bee is a party gal. She's chill 'n cool. But most importantly, despite of being a royal she doesn't give a damn about stupid rules. She considers hellhounds as her equals and throws a parties for them. She cares about her people very much! And of course - OF COURSE! - she'd like to help Loona and co. but... Sigh! Her paws are tied! Besides, there are more important things to do. Like putting Mammon in his place. When else could you find perfect time for this if not at the court, right? Plus, Bee supports slave trade. Just saying.

And Ozzie... Uuuggh, please don't even get me started on him! The topic deserves a separate post because it's large and I don't mean to go deep into this right now. Instead, I'm going to rant about how Bee and Ozz stand up for Blitzø vs how they attack Mammon. So we could figure their true top priority out.

<<< Tw: acephobia and occasional sarcasm under the cut >>>

How they defend Blitzø:

Say "this lil imp guy isn't bad, let him speak up" (they immediately forget about this the moment Mammon interrupts them)

Rise a hand to vote for hearing out the testimonies (and there's nothing special since M&M and Loona did the same)

Bee gives four middle fingers to the crowd of pompous nobles... Wow. That was so edgy cringy!

Geez, what a great performance! So brave,so rebellious, so selfless! These guys are the bloody legends for real! The true defenders for all the oppressed souls. I think they dropped this 👑

Cough, cough! Excuse me, seems like I had a sarcastic attack. Cough, cough!

Okay, where was I? Oh, right! As you can observe the whole defense from Bee and Ozzie seems pretty weak. It's a bare minimum. You disagree? Then let's see...

How they attack Mammon:

Ozzie yells and threatens him with a literal fireball ​immediately

"Nobody wants to fuck you!" Yikes, that was EXTREMELY acephobic* from your side, Bee...

Bee throws a dick-shaped popsicle at Mammon (fail)

"Why won't you keep fucking yourself?" Woah, another corny insult! Bee, could you please stop acting like a cringy acephobic bitch?

Bee throws a dick-shaped popsicle at Mammon again (success)

There are a lot more passion and persistence, ain't it? And what has Mammon done to cause that kind of reaction? Well, he interrupted Ozzie's speech like this:

"Shut up, you two! We all know you enjoy slumming it with the low class plebs. Unlike the rest of us..."

And excuse me, but, uh... Where's the lie? Bee and Ozz both are banging with the lowest of the lowest. That's true. Their reaction seems kinda "You ask me for facing the truth, but you do it without respect" in that instance. Like??? Are they embarrassed by being called out? Or do they've got offended because Mammon marked their lovers as "the low class plebs"? ����

Well, sweeties, I have a bad news for you! There's the class system in your society. That system implies division into classes - low and high. Hence your baes belong to the low one. And they won't stop to belong to it even if you pulled them out of that environment. You can't "fix" them like that. Because the moment you've got bored with them they'll be left with nothing. As far as the system is still alive. The system in whose existence you - Bee and Ozz - are involved as deeply as Mammon. And his words about the "plebs" isn't just his individual opinion. It's the whole upper crust's point of view. So maybe you should try beating up the system? What's the use of your hassle with Mammon? You don't even reproach him for bigotry - that would be valid - but for being unfuckable. This whole situation seems not like fight for justice but like expression of your personal aversion. If so, then why the hell are you getting distracted from the court where the fate of one commoner is decided?

Oh! By the way Bee and Ozz doing it right in front of Satan. You know, that horrible and tough dictator who would shut anyone up the second they dare disobey him. Defend Blitz? Woooah, nooo, no way! Satan is a big meanie, he won't allow this! Bicker with Mammon like there's no tomorrow? Ha, easy-peasy! Satan won't mind. And surprisingly he actually doesn't! Instead, he just... suggests to take the vote + facepalms a bit later. Is this some kind of punishment for inappropriate behavior or is Satan simply fine with the whole nonsense he's surrounded by? I mean, Satan has brought Sins together for this event and now these idiots are sitting behind him and not paying attention (Bel's literally sleeping!). Can't this be seen as disrespectful? No?! Apparently Satan could get mad only if Ozzie speaks the truth out, right? Great 😒

Anyway, let's get back to Bee and Ozz. They were doing that childish nonsense... and what have they achieved? Well, they've managed to make Mammon suck a d. Wow, the true heroes we deserve! Now all the imps and hellhounds rotting in poverty and slavery could breathe easily. Bravo!

And look how frigging cheerful these mfs are! May I remind you they're doing this right after the Goetias have voted for Blitzø's execution and now...

HE'S ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE!!!

What were they even thinking about at that exact moment?!

"We've failed to help this imp and now he's gonna die??? Awww, nooo, poor thing... Anyway! Let's push a dick into the greedy pig's throat! Yeah, we're so cool and edgy. Besties goals!"

And then we're supposed to hate Mammon because he doesn't care about the trial and messes around. But when Bee and Ozz do the exact same thing we should root for them? Really!?!!?

My honest reaction for all this crap:

Conclusion: The narrative (and Viv) wants us to regard Bee and Ozz as the good capitalists, although they put in almost no effort. They do the bare minimum and the standom is justifying them by lack of power and "Satan is the law". However, the lack of power and "Satan is the law" don't stop them from bickering with Mammon in the middle of the trial.

Thus Bee and Ozz prefer to get distracted by stupid childish nonsense without any significant value (and they do this enthusiastically) instead of helping Blitzø and his team. They don't try to noticeably change the status quo on a daily basis as well, even support it (Bee's slave trade). Still, they're admired by the whole fandom as if they're victims of circumstance who are simply deprived of the opportunity to do anything. And this hypocritical rhetoric is pissing me off so much.

*No, I won't take the arguments "But Mammon is closeted! Bee didn't know he's ace! She would never say that if she knew!" Yeah, she didn't know, alright... But guess who did know about Mammon being the ONLY grown-up asexual character in the whole show? Vivziepop! Oh, also SHE wrote this episode. So she was the one who has approved the idea of a "positive" and beloved character mocking an asexual for not getting laid. Therefore the fact Bee PROBABLY didn't know doesn't really make this better for me.

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 1

Danny woke up with the sun. Vlad would still be in bed for a few hours yet, so he had more than enough time to deck out the entire house and garden, with help from the ghosts, of course.

He planned to meet the others in the back gardens with some food to make sure nothing would go wrong.

Pandora, Dora, and Dani were the first three there, waiting for him already. And, as he set out the food none of them needed but would eat anyway, Johnny and Kitty showed up. Ember, Box Lunch, Youngblood, Poindexter, and Skulker came together. Walker, Desiree, Fright Knight, The Vultures, Blob Ghosts, and Spectra showed up separately, though in near quick succession. Frostbite, Undergroth, and Ghost Writer had wanted to come along, too, but would only be able to be there for the party itself.

All week, the guests had been arriving and staying in Madison, Wisconsin. They hadn't been able to house anyone because Vlad was going to be the very last to know, so they'd used his money to rent out a hotel for the week of the gala, including another day afterwards.

"Plasmius still doesn't know, right?" Ember asked as soon as everyone had gathered.

Dani started cackling. "Nope!"

"He's suspicious, though," Vulture One said.

"We think he probably noticed the money for the hotel." Vulture Three added.

"He hasn't done anything more than passing glares, though," Danny pointed out.

"He's not said anything?"

"Nope."

"Perfect!" Spectra smiled, "How're you going to break it to him tonight?"

"Well," he started, "I was thinking I play it off as if he was the one to plan it."

"Oh?" Pandora raised her eyebrow, "That won't be easy."

"Sure it will!" Poindexter shouted, "Plasmius is so old, that his memory's going!"

Youngblood was nodding enthusiastically. "We can even have his suit set out for him and everything!"

"What have you done with the acceptance letters?" Dora wondered.

"They're hidden in my closet," Dani said.

Skulker hummed. "And I've taken care of any emails or messages sent to his phone and computer. All went straight to the kid."

Danny snickered. "This is gonna be so much fun!

"Hell yeah!" Johnny cheered.

Fright Knight cleared his throat. "Any last minute arrangements that need taken care of?"

The group paused for a minute, all of them thinking. Finally, Danny said, "Well, other than finally decorating the place, we'll need to get food- We forgot caterers!"

"I can handle that," Desiree said, "Just this once, though," She snapped her fingers and a paper contract appeared in Walker's hand. "Since you're head of security, you should probably hold onto the contracts."

Walker nodded, tucking the papers into his coat. "We'll have some of the Blob Ghosts with us at the gates. Fright will watch the front and I'll take the back. Skulker will be in the security room, and the Vultures will take the rest of the Blobs and watch the skies."

"Why're we even goin' so far f'r dese peoples' 'afety?" Box Lunch, who had only been able to speak for just over a year and was doing fantastically, asked. "They're just rich. Do dey have and re-rede- good tings 'bout 'em?"

Dora chuckled, quieting the others with a glare. "Everyone has redeeming qualities, sweetheart."

"Kitty?" Dani dragged out the word as she asked.

"Almost everyone," Dora corrected swiftly, "Besides, it'll look bad if anyone gets hurt while we're hosting them."

"Speaking of," Pandora spoke up, "Is everyone here going to be attending tonight?"

Youngblood tilted his head to the side. "What'd'ya mean?"

Spectra flipped her hair, which was straight down her back today, over her shoulder. "Only so many of us have human disguises. It's not like we blend in well with the living."

"Well, can't everyone just stay invisible the whole night?" Vulture Two suggested.

"And miss out on all the fun?" Dani almost yelled, "No way!"

Danny hummed. "Our security team has to be here, and may even need to make an appearance. At least Walker and Frighty will have to be disguised."

"Manageable," Fright Knight nodded.

"Got it," Walker agreed.

"Great. Anyone wanting to be guests will have to be disguised as well," Dora pointed out.

"Writer, Frostbite, Undergrowth, and I all have that covered," Pandora said, "Dora, Spectra, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty will all be able to pass as living."

"What about us?" Poindexter glared. He didn't want to be left out of all the fun, and was pretty sure Box Lunch and Youngblood didn't, either.

Dani leaned on his shoulder. "You three will just get to come hang out with me and Wulf in the Keep."

Youngblood's eyes had stars in them as he whipped around and stared at her. "We get to play in the keep?!"

"That'll go well," Spectra laughed.

"I'll stay with them," Dora said.

"You sure?" Danny asked.

"Of course," she nodded, "While being here would be fun, I don't think Wulf is quite ready to handle four trickster spirits."

"And you being there will somehow be better? Neither of you are protectors."

No, but I am a caretaker spirit. And, as long as they don't go anywhere near the catacombs," she shot a serious look at the four children, "I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Alright," Danny accepted, "but Jazz, Tuck, and Sam will probably be ready to help if you need it, okay?"

"Much appreciated."

"What do we still need to do?" Kitty asked.

"Skulker, Walker, Fright Knight, the Vultures, and the Blobs are all on security, so you should all probably start setting that up," Pandora said. They agreed and disappeared. "Ember will handle music, right?"

She waved her hand will a nod, "You got it. Boring, old people classics coming right up."

"Johnny, are you okay with taking over valet?"

"I get to drive other people's cars, right?"

"As long as you don't crash them," Danny added.

"Sure," he smirked, "But I can still prank them, right?"

Danny sighed, but nodded.

"Yes!"

"Kitty-"

"I'll watch over the kitchen," she said.

Pandora nodded once. "Spectra? Desiree?"

"I'll go in as an actual guest," Spectra's smile spelled mischief.

Desiree matched her with a grin of her own, "I'll go with as your date."

Again, Pandora nodded at the two. "I'll come as a guest as well with Ghost Writer, Undergrowth, and Frostbite."

"Settled?" Danny asked. After agreements, he turned to Dani and the kids. "You four want to help me finally deck this place out?" Their matching grins said everything.

With a final dismissal, the group vanished to finish their final preparations.

Part 3

[chaot1c0]

valentine's day w/ hsr men <3

I have never celebrated valentine's day with anyone so if I seem lost then that's why ..

sunday -

for sure would be a HUGE perfectionist when planning it all

has to make sure every detail is perfect, and if not, he will freak out

asks the astral express members for help but if it's pre-charmony festival, he'll ask robin for help [ I know FOR SURE he'd bother robin with every little detail .. ]

makes sure to get you whatever you like as a gift, and your favorite flowers with roses

settles for chocolate, but not just any chocolate, expensive chocolate that you like

has been planning for weeks or maybe even months ahead [ he just likes to be super accurate .. ]

even subtly gets information out of you for what you'd like

if he notices you staring at something/taking an interest in something, he'll buy that as a gift secretly

would keep his eyes on you the whole day

"..what's with the stares?"

"nothing, just keep looking pretty, angel."

probably takes you sightseeing or out on a walk, then dinner at a restaurant, and ending with a movie

definitely holds your hand and keeps you next to him the whole day and is more affectionate than usual

jing yuan -

despite it seeming that he hasn't planned anything, he actually has some stuff prepared

he'd just prefer to spend the morning in your arms, is all

skips on work just to have you all to himself the whole day

gets you a huge bouquet of roses and obviously chocolates, with jewelry and a teddy bear

takes you out for lunch and then more cuddles later while watching a movie

if you insist or suggest on doing something, though, he will comply

a little more teasing the entire day, more than usual

definitely takes the day as an excuse to be extra clingy and more affectionate

"what? can't I treat my spouse/lover the way they deserve to be treated?"

allows yanqing steal you away from him for a bit if you insist on seeing the boy [ he pouts and sulks because your attention isn't on him anymore ]

ALWAYS has you in his arms at every given opportunity

"I don't want to lose you, love."

obviously a gentleman the entire day [ even more so than usual, actually ]

dan heng -

from the moment he started liking you the astral express knew about his obvious soft spot for you ..

it's STILL obvious TO THIS DAY.

makes sure your gift is suitable to give to you, even goes so far as asking stelle and march 7th for help

it's safe to say they spent a lot of time considering the perfect gift ..

still gets a bit flustered but otherwise confident [ the back of his neck is red when he's affectionate with you ]

buys you whatever you like along with some flowers for your gift

has march 7th, himeko, welt, and stelle suggest ideas on where to take you

..all their ideas clash with each other and so he ultimately decides to ditch it and instead collect information on what you'd like to do

more pda than normal because if that's what makes you happy, he'll gladly do it

very, very, very, very, and I mean VERY polite the entire day

"happy valentine's day."

aventurine -

it's pretty obvious that he'd go all out and spend a lot of money for you [ does that on a daily basis, actually ]

he'd be extra grand when it's valentine's day

expensive chocolates, expensive flowers, expensive gifts, and takes you out to expensive places

has a hugeeeee bouquet of flowers prepared, with a basket full of chocolates and every item your eyes have lingered on for longer than usual the past week

you guys probably won't be back home till late because he's been spoiling you rotten [ when does he not spoil you .. ]

he'll take you shopping and only buy stuff for you and not him, and when you insist that he should buy something he refuses

"just let me buy you whatever you want, okay?"

if anyone dares to give you a bad time on valentine's day, he'll be even more aggressive, but it'd be masked behind that smug facade of his of course

when you guys do come home, he'll be cuddling you the whole night

very affectionate and very flirty the whole day

veritas ratio -

has absolutely zero idea on how to be romantic, so of course he does some research on it

has prepared ahead of time to know how lovers act on valentine's day

takes you out on a date at a fancy restaurant and makes sure you're comfortable with it

is a huge gentleman the whole day

goes old fashioned and gets you a bouquet of flowers and a simple box of chocolates

also makes a statue of you two together and presents it to you proudly

a lot more pda and affectionate since it is valentine's day after all

he has no idea how to be romantic, so if he messes up and embarrasses himself, then that's why

if he does, he will become flustered and his face will be all red

has no problem with just holding you in his arms the entire day instead of going out

I personally feel like he would take you dancing, just for the sake of it

and if you don't know, he'll be more than happy to teach you.

"follow my steps, dear. you'll be fine."

ever since he started dating you, he's been more polite to you, and there's always a softer look in his eyes

there's no difference on valentine's day, either.

he admires you all day with that tenderness in his eyes and instead of insulting you, he compliments you [ his compliments are shown in a rather interesting way, but it's the thought that counts ]

gallagher -

just like jing yuan, he prefers to spend the morning sleeping in with you

also very clingy the entire day

definitely kisses you a lot, too, even if it's for simple things

gets you flowers and anything you'd like

takes you drinking later on in the night to make sure you have fun but doesn't let you get very drunk and looks after you

"how about I make a drink for you, that sound good?"

very loving and affectionate, even more so than usual

always has a hand on your waist or is holding your hand the entire day

sort of like a guard dog, always making sure that no harm comes your way and that you're safe

caelus -

cracks jokes the entire day and tries flirting [ ends up embarrassing himself instead ..]

gets you a stuffed animal and some chocolates and then drags you to the arcade to win you more items

ends up carrying huge plushies for you on the way home

will later take you to see a movie if you're up for it, of course

decorates your shared living space with roses and valentine's day decorations the night before so that when you wake up, you wake up to a surprise

so much pda and kisses, takes this opportunity to be more loving with you

half of the time he's staring at you with a lovesick expression that makes you laugh

when you mention it to him, he gets all flustered

"..what? no- I wasn't staring at you! you're just.. imagining things. yeah."

overall, he's just making sure you enjoy your day and that you're having fun

argenti -

the first thing you see when you wake up is a huge bouquet filled with roses and a note that says, 'happy valentine's day, my rose!'

there's also 5 boxes of chocolates stacked neatly next to it and an adorable stuffed animal holding a heart

he also went through the trouble of decorating your room to fill it with roses

will already be making you breakfast by the time you're up, and it's your favorite food to eat for breakfast

very affectionate and loving, as usual

also compliments you more than he usually does

firmly a gentleman when you two go out for dinner later on in the day and always makes sure you're safe

when you two return home, he lights all the candles he set up earlier and turns off the lights to make everything look lovely

holds you in his arms as he declares his love for you over and over again, making sure you have at least a small grasp of how much he loves you

also combs through your hair gently as he holds you

if you end up falling asleep, he'll carry you back to bed, put out the candles, and fall asleep with you

gepard -

very nervous about the whole day, does not want anything to go wrong

buys you your favorite flowers along with some other gifts

obviously had to ask serval in advance for some advice on what to do

absolutely showers you with affection all day, from the moment you wake up

takes you out on a walk, holding your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours

decides not to go anywhere and just relax indoors with you the entire day since he wants this day to be between only you and him

tries flirting for a change [ serval's idea ], instead flusters himself in return ..

has you laughing at him but at least he can see you happy

tries his very best to make the day a memorable one since he knows how much you mean to him and how much he loves you

blade -

usually not very romantic and doesn't show affection often

however, just for the occasion [ kafka and silver wolf educated him on valentine's day ], he'll make an effort to be affectionate around you

will take you out on a date somewhere but when you ask or tease him about it, he'll stay silent with a slightly noticeable blush

also will get you flowers and try to smile at you

"..these are for you."

when you both are standing somewhere, looking at the nighttime view, he'll turn to stare at you with the faintest smile

if you catch him staring, he'll hurriedly look away before his gaze returns to you, his cheeks pink

buys you all sorts of gifts and what-not

keeps you close to him at all times and is very protective of you

will let you walk on the sidewalk and he'll take the road for you

when you guys get home he'll let you run your fingers through his hair as you talk to him and he'll make an effort to respond

boothill -

jokingly wakes you up with a grin and a rose in his mouth

"g'morning, sugar."

presents you with a bouquet and chocolate with that sharp-toothed grin of his

as usual, his eyes are filled with warmth as he watches you read- or try to read- his hand-written note

presents you with a bunch of jewelry, eagerly watching you for your reaction

"what do you think, sweetheart?"

lets you wear his hat the entire time you guys are out as he holds your hand, fingers intertwined with yours

buys you lots of sweets and if you have one in your hand he might try eating it right from your hand

starts complaining if you let go of his hand even once

takes you out for both lunch AND dinner

if you get tired of walking, he'll pick you up bridle style and carry you all the way home

will spend at least a bit of the day cuddling you

also does tip his hat over your eyes and kisses you

jiaoqiu -

spends the entire morning begging for you to pet his ears and tail before gifting you with a pretty heart-shaped bouquet and a warm smile

makes sassy remarks all day but they're intertwined with affection

instead of taking you out, he'd have you cook with him

if you don't know how, he'll teach you, of course

..you guys end up getting covered in flour, but at least the heart shaped cake tastes good!

would watch movies at home, cuddling under the blankets with a bowl of popcorn between you both

eventually you both end up falling asleep on the couch and even if you wake up later on, none of you make a move to go to your shared bed

mydei -

has an obvious soft spot for you

buys you a bunch of chocolate just for the occasion

when you go out, he'll be holding your hand the entire time and keeping you close

treats you with huge affection, sometimes kissing your cheek at random

if anyone dares try to ruin your special day, he'll silence them with a sharp glare before going back to staring at you all innocent

would definitely take you to a flower field while the sun is setting, just so you two can enjoy the scenery

also settles for a picnic instead of a restaurant and tucks a flower into your hair with a fond smile

will carry you home, even if you insist you're not tired

phainon -

absolute gentleman, writes a whole letter and has white roses for you in a bouquet

takes you out to a fancy restaurant for dinner, also takes you shopping in the evening to buy more gifts for you

has his arm wrapped around your waist so he doesn't lose you in the middle of a crowd or at random

when looking at you, he often smiles fondly to himself

takes a dozen pictures of you and saves them to his folder that he has dedicated to you

can you tell I was struggling ..

masterlist

[prettydaisygirl]

can you write an arranged marriage for rafe and fem!reader. reader's family organized the marriage as the reader was getting out of hand (drugs, parties) and they wanted to control her, reader always knew she was going to get married to a rich man to further the families generational wealth so she didnt have a problem but that doesnt mean she was going to be happy, maybe she caused some problems when she met rafe but he put her in her place and she actually become attracted to him and yk the honeymoon smut or wtv lol. feel free to ignore this.

Hello, nonnie! Thank you so, so much for your request! I loved writing this, I have been wanting to write something else for Rafe and this was perfect! I didn't write the honeymoon, but I did get some smut in there for us ;) Hope you enjoy, my love!

arranged marriage AU with Rafe Cameron x fem!reader who marries Rafe against her will (and her better judgment) ✿ 2.1k words

cw: NSFW 18+, arranged marriage, fem reader, abusive parents, drug/alcohol abuse, violence, mention of murder, fingering (f receiving), controlling Rafe, toxic Rafe

rafe cameron masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

You’ve known who you were supposed to be since the moment you took your first breath. Etiquette lessons, private tutors, debutante balls. Your parents always made their rules and expectations very clear to you, especially through punishment. 

When you’re young, it’s all cruel whispers and harsh smacks to your fatty tissue. 

“Don’t you understand how much you embarrassed us today, you ungrateful brat!” Your mother would whisper to you in the church parking lot, hand wrapped around your wrist far too tight. You yawned once during the service and you weren’t given dinner for three nights straight. 

When you were a little girl, you over exhausted yourself trying to keep up with their expectations. You did the best that you could but it was never enough, it was never going to be enough for them, you were always destined to fall short. The goalposts would move, the mood would shift, things would change and suddenly any amount of positivity or support was gone. Only disappointment awaited you. 

As you got older, you found other ways to escape from the horrors of your home life. You joined every activity you could, constantly stayed at friend’s houses, and made plans with almost anyone and everyone who asked you if it meant you didn’t need to see the faces of the two people who are supposed to love you most.

That’s where the problems started.

The relationship between you and your parents got worse, as did the violence, and you find yourself spending time around the wrong people. Alcohol became an easy distraction, and soon it was weed, and then coke. You found joy in dancing with boys and letting go of your mind. 

You didn’t think you were in too deep. You didn’t think it was that bad. Skirts that were too short and your voice that’s too loud and another drink, another joint, another line. It’s just an escape! You need an escape because otherwise you’ll crumble under the weight of rules and demands. Anger and pain and violence, you have to just turn it off. 

But one DUI, one hospital trip for an overdose, and your parents tell you they are putting their foot down. At first, you’re confused. What punishment could possibly be worse than screaming and punching and slapping? 

That’s when they mention Rafe Cameron.

You know Rafe Cameron, of course you do. Everyone does. The son of Ward Cameron, CEO of Cameron Industries, one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the country. Ward is known for his passion for work, his very successful (albeit shady) business dealings, and his previously tumultuous relationship with his son. 

Rafe Cameron, the heir to the Cameron fortune, who made your DUI look like a parking ticket. You remember when his face was splattered across every tabloid magazine and every TMZ article. You were young enough then that you swore you would never turn out like him. Ironically, your path mirrored his quite closely.

Except for the violence.

Everything changed for the Cameron family five years ago when Rafe Cameron was arrested for murder. Ultimately the charges were dropped, though the internet detectives will say he did it without question. No one else was ever arrested for the murder of that young man, so you aren’t sure what to believe. 

Rafe disappeared for a while, some people speculated that he was sent to rehab or some other kind of mental health facility. When he came back into society last year, he seemed to be a changed man. Ward gave Rafe a place on the board, and Rafe has completely stayed out of the spotlight. 

And now, it seems, your two families believe that a merger, and a marriage, are the best way to move forward. 

You aren’t surprised. You’ve known for years that love was never in the cards for you, it never is in a family like this. Marriages for love in a family like yours are considered laughable.

“Just have an affair!” You would hear your mother laugh with her friends after too many glasses of wine, your father out somewhere with his business partners. “Marry for money, and find love on the side! Marriage is just business.” 

This is what you have been taught about love: it’s useless, it’s messy, and it’s better to keep it hidden. 

And so, your marriage arrangements have always lingered in the back of your mind, the knowledge of a future business transaction that would determine your worth to your family. You just didn’t expect it to be him. 

Your first meeting with Rafe and his family goes just about as well as you expect it to. Your dress is itchy and uncomfortable, and your hangover is giving you a headache. Rafe eyes you with a curled lip like he can smell the alcohol seeping off of you from across the table. He’s intimidating, his muscles tense and his jaw clenched as he nods curtly when the lawyers read off your marriage terms. 

No one asks you for your opinion during the whole meeting. No one but Rafe even looks your way. All you can feel is fear that your marriage will turn out to be an extension of your life with your parents. 

Pens come out, papers are signed, and just like that, you and Rafe are engaged.

It’s different from how you pictured it. There is a ring, large and gaudy, that catches any amount of light and has strangers eyeing you with envy. You hate it. 

Your schedule, previously dominated by nights clubbing and coffee dates, is now full of dress fittings, cake testing, and meetings with the wedding planner. To your surprise, Rafe attends all of them. 

You learn Rafe has changed, apparently. He doesn’t put up with your bullshit, he doesn’t think your whining and frustrated pout are endearing. He crosses his arms, and tells you to behave.

But it’s not cruel. It’s not “behave, you’re making me look bad” or “behave, or see what happens when we get home.” Maybe it’s because he is not your father, not even close, or maybe it is because of the way he looks at you when he says it, handsome features stern but not strict, but you listen to him. Your mother notices, and suddenly Rafe is always around.

He’s at the table for breakfast every Sunday morning, he’s golfing with your father, he’s with your family on the yacht. He’s everywhere. And there’s something about his handsome face, his swagger, the way he looks at you like there’s a promise of something hidden deeper beneath the surface… 

One Sunday morning, you stumble to the breakfast table, halfway between sober and still drunk and Rafe asks if he can speak with you privately. Your parents encourage this with a smile, of course, and you find yourself cornered in your father’s office, backed up against his desk.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Rafe asks, voice low and deep, and his face is close enough to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath seeping into your pores. He smells good, and the warmth between your legs and the remnants of alcohol in your system make you more open, more willing to agree with him. He knows that.

“I just… it feels good,” You tell him, inhaling sharply when his hands reach for your hips, lifting you to place you on the desk. He chuckles at your words and you shiver as his fingers brush against your inner thighs.

“I know it does,” He whispers, his hands gently parting your legs as he steps closer to you. “It does right now, but trust me… you want to stop.” Each word is accompanied by his hand sliding just a bit higher, your heart pounding rapidly and lips parting in anticipation. 

“I’ll show you something that feels even better,” He whispers, taking your earlobe into his mouth as his fingers press against your panties, making light circles over your clothed pussy. You moan, and Rafe’s free hand slaps over your mouth to silence you.

“Listen to me,” He grunts into your ear, his fingers sliding beneath the soaked lacy fabric to toy with your clit. Your moans and whines are muffled by his hand, and you feel your eyes roll back as he slides a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around it. He uses the hand that is over your mouth to shake you a bit, grasping your jaw harder. “Look at me.”

Your eyes flutter open and you look at him, your body trembling and your juices soaking his finger. He smirks as he watches you fall apart so easily for him, bend so easily to his will.

“Don’t drink anymore,” He whispers, his tongue darting out to run over the round part of your ear before he attaches his lips to your jaw, using his tight grip to tilt your head for better access. He sucks a dark bruise there. “You don’t need to go out anymore, I’ll help you escape, I’ll make you feel good.” 

He says the exact words you need to hear to fall apart, crying muffled by the calloused skin of his palm and he continues to finger you as you come down. Once your body unclenches, he uncovers your mouth, bringing his dirty fingers to your lips and telling you to suck on them. You do. 

Your parents don’t say anything about the hickey or your disheveled outfit when you return from your “talk” with Rafe. Your politeness during breakfast is enough to have them singing Rafe’s praises regardless of how he “tamed” you. 

Your world shrinks, and even more than before everything revolves around Rafe. He’s always there, always in your space, always touching you. You let him, you like it even though it also feels like it’s hard to breathe, like his presence is a prison. Your engagement ring feels more like a gold handcuff, but every time his hands are on you, you want to throw away the key. It’s a vicious cycle. You lose your friends, but things get better with your family. If you can call moving from hitting you to completely ignoring you and doting on your future husband ‘progress’. 

The night before your wedding, you find Rafe on the balcony of your parent’s home after dinner. You tried to tell him that the groom shouldn’t see the bride the night before the wedding, but Rafe told you he isn’t superstitious and he doesn’t give a fuck about tradition. 

You stand next to him, the two of you illuminated by the pale moonlight shining down from above. There’s a light breeze, the wisps of his hair fluttering against his forehead.

It’s interesting, the way you feel when you’re around Rafe. It’s like a whirlwind of emotion. Lust, love, infatuation, fear, frustration, suffocation… like being too hot and too cold at the same time and the pain hurts but it also feels so good.

“Rafe?” You say softly, placing a hand on his back. He looks at you, his eyes dark in a way that makes your stomach churn. And not in the good way you like. “What’s wrong?”

“Tomorrow you become Mrs. Cameron. My wife,” He turns to face you, leaning a hip against the balcony railing. Your hand slides down his torso and back to your side, taking in the deep, almost gravelly tone of his voice. “I know I’ve already told you that I won’t tolerate your bullshit. But you understand that there will be some expectations, don’t you?”

The word expectations has your mind spinning, but you nod anyway, pushing down the feeling of nausea that threatens to rise up in your throat. 

“There are some things you need to know,” Rafe says, and he grabs your arm, not roughly but not gently either, “And I will tell them to you. But when it comes to anything about me, my family, or my business, you listen to me. Got it?”

You nod slowly again, and the ring around your finger burns where it touches your skin but you don’t move. You hate the way your heart pounds in a different way when his hand slides up your leg. You let him convince you that he knows best, again. And your parents don’t question the way your hair is tangled and your dress is wrinkled when you come back in, again. 

And when you’re standing on the altar in front of hundreds of people, and you look at Rafe like you know there’s something darker to him than he wants you to know… you say “I do.” anyway. 

Just like they all knew you would. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[fandom-smutty-shots]

The Boys kissing their s/o for the first time

Request

Masterlist

~

Characters: Starlight, Queen Maeve, Billy Butcher, Hughie Campbell, Black Noir, Soldier Boy, and Homelander

Warnings: Mild mention of choking in the Soldier Boy one, other than that, all family friendly!

A/N: I haven't written in so long I'm sorry! I'm totally burned out at work, but I will do my very best to stay on schedule. Enjoy, and let me know what you want to see me post!

~

Starlight

Annie would be so nervous to make the first move.

You had been seeing each other for a while, and it was almost awkward how bad you wanted to kiss each other, but just kept avoiding it.

Finally, you realized you would have to make the first move.

So you did. As you gently placed your lips to hers and gave her a quick peck, she'd grab the back of your head and deepen it, molding your lips together as if they were meant to be.

After that, you had no issues making out.

Queen Maeve

Maeve would make you so nervous.

After your first date, she would walk you home through side streets and alleys, trying to avoid getting recognized.

When she found a quiet spot away from everyone, she grabbed you by the waist and whirled you around to face her. She would push you against the wall and put her hand up to trap you in, a cocky grin on her face.

She would crash into you and take every bit of you, making you forget everything else in the world.

It would be the perfect end to the perfect night.

Billy Butcher

You know your first kiss with Billy would be savage.

He would pull your hair back and force you into him, starved for the love he missed.

He would devour you whole, taking every bit of resistance away and melting you into his arms.

Hughie Campbell

God, your first date with Hughie would not go smoothly.

Everything seemed wrong. You were supposed to go on a hike, and it poured rain and thunderstorms. You decided to go to a restaurant, and poor Hughie couldn't get his card to work and you ended up paying.

The food was bland and the conversation was boring, as if something was off.

Which is weird for the two of you, as you had been friends for years and never had this issue.

"This should go down in history as the worst date ever." Hughie finally breaks the silence as he walks you home, the chill in the air making you shiver.

"It wasn't that bad," you try to make him feel better, but he saw right through it.

He would stop and look at you before placing a quick kiss on your lips, his nervousness clear in the action.

"Well, that certainly improved my night," you laugh as he blushes.

Black Noir

Your first kiss would be quick, but the most meaningful moment you've had so far.

This is because it's the first time he took his mask off for you. He wouldn't say anything, not yet, but he would show his passion for you with the way he desperately holds your face and devours you.

It would last for what felt like forever, and you were thankful he trusted you enough to show you his scars.

It would, however, make you hate Soldier Boy for what he did to your love.

Black Noir deserved everything good in the world after everything he did for you.

Soldier Boy

Ben doesn't know the meaning of the word gentle.

He would ruin you with just a simple kiss.

He would hold you against the bed with a hand around your neck, making your head light as he took control.

"Do you want me to stop?" He pulled back to ask you, his thumb running along your jawline.

"No," you would answer, in just a whisper. "Kiss me again."

And of course, he was happy to make you feel good. Over, and over, and over again.

Homelander

John would be afraid to hurt you.

He knows his strength is too much at times, and you were very easy to break.

He would talk you through every step of the way as his hand brushed your cheek and he slowly leaned in, letting you lead the kiss as your lips finally touched.

It would be slow and gentle, the way his hands held you and felt up and down your body would be earth-shattering.

If you weren't in love already, you certainly were now.