#I can’t fucking do this. I can’t do anything. I can’t even be responsible for myself

[seishroo]

rin and marathon sex cause he's a freak like that

“make her tap out” — r. itoshi

cw. smut mdni, overstimulation, reader being pathetic as hell, rin just being yummy yum yum

rin was always a beast when it came to soccer. dominating the field, he’s intense — commanding authority without even trying.

and when it comes to sex? he’s practically a machine running off of talent, ego, and pure domination. you’d think he’d be worn out from all of his matches, but his stamina never wavers when it comes to you. not even for a split second.

he’d have you in a brutal mating press, pounding into you with relentless vigor as you struggled to even catch an intake of breath, your hands scrambling for something to ground yourself with — which happened to be those godly biceps of his.

“rinnie!”, you’d whine, tears rolling down your delicate features as he fucked you to yet another orgasm. what was it now? third, fourth, seventh? who knows at this point. you were too dazed, and it seemed like he was having zero issue taking you to peak after peak after peak.

“yeah, pretty baby?”, he’d question just to humor you, acting as if he was paying attention to anything you had to say. he didn’t need to know what you were thinking, your pussy spoke for you — fluttering around his cock frantically. he’d continue to thrust into you, hard and deep. he was clearly getting a kick out of sending you far past mere overstimulation.

he’d push down on your tummy, feeling how deep he was inside of you. “tsk, you feel that, baby?”, he’d ask between thrusts, watching exactly what it does to you. “feel me in there?”, he’d chuckle, grasping the back of your knees tighter and pushing your legs back further, folding you like a fucking beach chair. “shit, ‘s like this pussy was made just for me”, he’d mutter, hitting your sweet spot over and over with the new angle.

you could barely come up with a response, just incoherent babbles and chants of his name, your body now being a bunch of mush as he had his way with you, moans filling the room like a sweet melody.

he groaned at the way your cunt swallowed him whole, just greedy and filthy. it tightened around him like a vice, signaling your impending release yet again.

“ohmygodohmygodrinrinrin”, you’d cry out, choking on your own words as you felt yourself becoming pathetically needy for him, to soak his length in your juices again. “shhhhhiiiiittttt, ‘m gon—“, you panted before your brain short-circuited once his thumb met your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure and speed to get you there even faster.

“i know, baby”, he coos, holding your legs in place with one hand while the other abused your swollen clit. “doing so well f’me, jus’ let go, yeah?”, he’d mutter in that sexy low tone, just his voice alone could have you a mess.

in which it did, you quivered erratically as your orgasm rushed through you, back arching before your body went limp and practically melted into the bed. rin continued to fuck you through it, making sure to draw every last bit out before he spilled inside of you with a choked groan, his hot seed filling you up to the brim.

he slowly pulled out of you before pushing back in, ensuring that none of him spilled out of your hole. “you look s’pretty when you’re all messy for me”, he whispers — more so to himself given you couldn’t process jack shit at the moment, still pathetically whimpering.

he pulls out of you, flipping you onto your tummy and pushing your legs in, putting your ass in the air before burying his face in your cunt, slurping up the mixture of both of your releases and eating you out from behind. he’d chuckle at your little whines, telling him 'you can’t take anymore' and this and that. nipping at your inner thigh, he’d coo once more, “aw, you can take one more f’me, can’t you?”, before diving back into your folds.

it was in fact not one more. don’t ever believe rin when he says that shit.

an: i loved writing this tysm for the req - now i can't stop thinking abt rin LMFAOOOO

© seishroo | much love ꨄ

[bunnipuffs]

somno with ellie x reader?

yes … yessss … absolutely … putting myself to sleep right now for her (◕◡◕) thank you for your request anon !!!!!!!! i am a somno girl through and through <3<3<3

꒰ cw. dubcon, loser! pervert! ellie, ellie using you to masturbate, you're drunk and ellie takes advantage of you, mention of the word vomit ꒱

⋆˙⟡ ellie is impulsive. something that she can’t ever change, even now, when you’re passed out in front of her. she can’t help it.

ellie likes to think that she’s contained. calm, collected, never lets her feelings get the best of her. but that wasn’t her. not at all, she’s always been very immature—starting fights for no reason, getting ticked off when joel lectures her about what she had done, an eye roll every time maria had reminded her about responsibilities. instead of realizing that, yeah maybe i could’ve died back there and i should apologize, a quick rebuttal always comes first. she never thinks about the severity of the situation. ellie acts before she can even process what she had done wrong, she’d rather not think about it honestly, her stupidity or carelessness. she never even really operated like that in the first place.

ellie wishes that she was like that though. doing the right thing even when it was hard. especially in this moment—you’re drunk and passed out on her bed, another annual jackson party wringing you dry. she feels dirty when she can’t help but to strip off your clothes, skinny fingers peeling off your top. you’re sweaty, and you probably have splashes of vomit on it. she tries to rationalize with herself, but she knows that taking off your bra isn’t necessary. it really isnt, but her fingers are moving before she can think about it. your tits are splayed out now, covered in the moonlight seeping through her windows. she exhales a shaky breath when she looks at you. this was wrong. very wrong, but ellie keeps staring at your perky nipples, salivating. the smell of alcohol is rough. you had a lot to drink and too much ambition, but ellie decided to be a good person and take you "home," not really specifying where home was. that thought was long discarded when she leans down, noticing that the scent doesn’t really bother her anymore when she gets close enough to your nipples, too eager and curious, a gentle kitten lick to the bud.

she has a hand wrapped around your throat, softly, just testing. she had always thought about doing that to you, feeling every gulp and movement of your throat underneath her fingertips. she’s sucking on your nipple, gently, afraid that if she makes any noise it’ll remind her of how sick she is. your sweat is salty on her tongue and she wanted more. wanted to clean you off until you were covered in her saliva, in her. she feels horrible, a storm of shame and embarrassment swirling in the pit of her stomach, but she can’t help it—you just do this to her. you did this to her the day she met you. a warm smile and the crinkles in your eyes when you laughed. she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with you either, even when you had hung out with her and dina often, something about you just made her spin.

that’s why it was easier to do this to you. you weren’t awake, couldn’t judge her for being so irrational and irresponsible. she just needed her fix. and you were so pretty, under the soft gleam of the moonlight. it couldn’t hurt to do this just once right?

she’s quickly shoving down her pants along with her boxers, rubbing her slick across her folds. she moans quietly, staring right at you while she hovers on top of you, the only time she's ever had the confidence to look at you properly. she’s ridiculously wet when she hasn’t even done anything yet, just perverted touches and thoughts racing through her head—ellie takes your limp hand from your side, gripping your wrist and rubbing herself with it. she’s moving you like a doll, controlling you, it’s a little awkward since you’re unconscious, you can't fuck them into her like she so desperately hoped for. your fingers are angled downwards and she’s grinding right on top of them, moaning when your knuckles bump her clit. your fingers are getting messy, covered in ellie.

ellie feels gross—using you like this. but there was something beautiful about taking you in secret. so secret that only ellie knows, not even you, and you're making her feel so good. she's used her fingers a million times before, rubbing relentlessly until she was sore to the thought of you. your smiles when you passed by, your sweet small talk when you both were putting your horses away at the same time. your hands felt different, so much better and pure. ellie likes to think that she's the first to have you like this. all laid out for her, nothing that could stop her in this moment. no nagging from joel, or anyone else. just her and you.

ellie's biting her lip to stop the loud whimpers spilling from her lips, your name an occasional strangled sound in the air. almost a whisper, precious on her tongue. her hands are tightening around your wrist, dragging it rougher and rougher against her cunt, feeling her own wetness spread along her inner thighs and dripping down your fingers. she's still staring you, sweat trickling over her slit brow and down her face. she thinks you look so beautiful when you're asleep, even more so when you're awake. but something depraved is growing in ellie, seeing you unconscious. your pretty tits spread in front of her, the shadow of your eyelashes against your skin. it makes ellie hot, burning, her body warm to the touch. she could probably come just by looking at you like this.

a part of ellie wishes you were awake. that you wholly accepted her for what a "bad" person she was. you seeing her desperate and taking her like she was taking you, she wanted it—but she was afraid. she knows that she'll never be able to look you in the eye for sure after this, but it feels too good. your fingers are connecting with her, so close, pulling the softest whimpers and moans from her throat. she wants to come all over them and stare, watch the obscenity trickle down your pretty hands.

"ah, fuck, i'm gonna.." ellie mutters, watching as you softly breathe under her. she grinds against you once, hard, before coming undone. she's muttering a blabbered string of curse words, fucking herself through her high. she feels every slide of her pussy across the sides and tops of your fingers, making sure she rubs herself on all of them. ellie can only hear the loud pounding of her heart in her ears now, puffing out heavy tired breaths. she pulls away from you and brings your hand up to the light. it's glistening, slick with arousal and ellie's love. she smiles at the sight before bringing them to her lips, licking everywhere—in between your digits, your palm.

she'll clean you up now, bring you home. tuck you into bed and let dina know you got home safely. when the next day rolls around, you're met with a horrible hangover and no recollection of last night's events. dina had let you know that ellie brought you home, cleaned you up, left a water bottle and some painkillers she had leftover in her bathroom cabinet. you're a little confused when you give ellie your gratitude when you see her, watching as her body visibly tenses. oh well, she was always a little distant!

tag list ! ♡

@hyperbabes

[ghostgirl-22]

All of a sudden I need fem!Pat domming fem!Art pls

CW: MDNI, NSFW, i suck at the dom sub stuff so this is like very light in the domming aspect i fear.

like um soo… this one time when fem!Art and fem!Pat go to the nail salon. It’s a sunny summer afternoon. Summer vacation, just after senior year. Art’s staying at Pat’s place till they get on a plane to London for a tennis tournament. Art has on this pretty pink sundress and strappy sandals. So pretty and tempting Pat doesnt want to let her go anywhere alone so she tags along. (“Really you in a nail salon?” Art says it like it’s the craziest thing she’s ever heard. “Fuck off. I can get my nails done. What do you think? The shop will go up in flames if I step foot inside?”)

When she’s not playing, when it’s off season, Art’s just such a girl. Pat thinks it’s funny because they both grew up acting like tomboys until Art turned sixteen and got boobs. suddenly all the boys were staring at her and she liked it.

Pat can’t be too mad though. The boobs feel look amazing.

Pats nothing like that, doesn’t mind boys but she’s not going out of her way to look pretty for them. Tomboy through and through she’s in a baggy t-shirt and overalls, hair just a mess of dark curls. she never does anything to it cause she can’t be bothered.

Art gets a pedicure and a full set, shes so classy she gets french tips. “You said you wanted to get em too, right?” Art coaxes, grinning at Pat who’s sitting in the empty chair next to her just scrolling her iPod.

Pat snorts, taking a cursory glance at her stubby chewed up fingernails. “I think I’m good.”

“Come on, I’ll pay for it,” Art says. That’s not why Pat gives in, though she’s happy to get it all done for free. Even happier to prove to Art that she can be girly too getting her nails done so nice. She even lets Art pick the color. “I like the lavender blue on you,” Art says. Her nails are all done so she’s sitting at the empty station. Sitting too close, so close pat feels her breathing lightly along her cheek —watching as the nail tech coats Pat’s nails in acrylic.

Pat shivers ever so slightly. Cheeks so warm. Skin so tingly. So down bad and they aren’t even touching.

“I like it,” Art says softly and then she giggles. “You should let them wax you.”

“Fuck no,” Pat says. “Sorry,” she adds to the nail technician, who seems generally unimpressed with her and even less so with her potty mouth.

It costs 75 dollars to get her nails done. A hundred and fifty for both. Art pays for it, everything, including a sizable tip. She walks out to the car in front of Pat all smiles like she’s walking on sunshine.

“What?” Pat catches up to her.

“Nothing,” Art shrugs and takes her hand, linking their fingers together. “You think your boyfriend will like em?”

Pat uses their interlocked fingers to pull Art closer, slowing her pace as they approach Pat’s jeep. “He likes what I like. Long as he can fuck me.” Pat grins. She likes the boyfriend enough. It’s fun or whatever and she likes to get off but he’s not the real prize. “Do you like em?”

“Mmhm,” Art hums and Pat doesn’t let go of her hand.

She walks Art around to the passenger side. Opens her door for her. “Don’t want you to mess up your nails.” Is her excuse.

“Thank you Patty.” Art only says it cause she’s the only one who can get away with it. Pretty princess. She can get away with anything.

Pat notices it when they’re on the road. On the way back to her place. She’s so attuned to Art. All her little nuances. Especially the horny ones. Kitten licks at the stickysweet gloss on her lips, soft thighs pressed together while she fidgets with the hem of her sundress.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Pat asks.

”Nothing,” Art says quickly, cheeks starting to color.

“You think I look so pretty with long nails don’t you,” Pat teases her, rests a manicured hand one of her thighs. Watches her spread them apart just a bit. A nice little Pavlovian response.

Art grabs her hand then, running her fingertips along the edges of Pats nails. “I can’t believe you really fucking did it. You’re gonna hate it.”

”Why?”

“Cause.”

“cause why?”

“Cause…” Art sighs and takes Pat’s hand guiding it between her thighs. Pat grins taking the hint and sliding her palm further up and up, letting the sundress ride up with it, till she’s touching lacy panties, damp with slick wet heat. “holy shit, you need me….huh?” Pat whispers.

“No.” A little bratty. A little defiant.

“Yes you do.”

Art’s making this soft little sound at Pat’s gentle petting. A breath to follow as she squirms. Leans over and mouths glossy kisses to Pat’s jaw. Oh they’re less than five minutes away and they’re not gonna make it home. pat needs this red light to last an hour. Or at least long enough to make her cum.

Pat slips her fingers behind the panties (“can you take em off for me?” Pat asks, and after Art’s done wiggling out of em, she pockets them). Only then, when she’s back inside, is when she realizes what’s so annoying about the fucking nails. Cumbersome and long and no ability to… fuck. She can’t do that thing. The thing Art loves, the thing that drives her insane, makes Pat have to change the sheets every night or put a towel down. Her mom asking why she’s been doing so much laundry lately. (“Cause Art has a really wet pussy ocd.”)

it isn’t gonna feel good with these fucking nails and that’s just unacceptable. Pat takes her hand away and Art sighs forlornly at the loss of contact.

“Gimme a second,” Pat starts biting at them, still tasting Art on the tips as she’s desperate to get them off.

“Oh my god. What are you doing?” Art gasps.

”what’s it look like? you need me right?”

Art bites her lip.

“Yeah… exactly.” Pat smirks and goes back to biting them.

Thankfully they’re not far from home. They barely greet Pat’s mom and brother in the kitchen with a “hi” and “bye” before they get upstairs to Pat’s bedroom.

That’s where Pat finds scissors and starts cutting the tips. Just urgently destroying the manicure (it’s just the right hand, it’s fine!). all while Art waits on the bed. Knee bouncing, head resting on her shoulder idly chewing on her thumb as she watches. When Pat’s done she hurries to the bed, crawling between Arts legs. Art opening up for her. Good girl, sweet girl.

“You’re so fucking crazy,” Art whispers.

“shh, look at me,” Pat says, lifting her chin. Art tries to kiss her but Pat pushes her down on the pillow. Blond curls fanned out everywhere. Pat slips her hand back in between her thighs.

“mmm,” Art moans softly, eyes sliding shut.

“Hey,” Pat says, tone just a little bit sharp. “Open… i need you to look at me while i’m inside you.”

it’s so intimate keeping eye contact. Gauging all of Art’s reactions. Watching her cheeks flush, eyebrows furrow, chest rise and fall.

“good girl, your all fucking mine aren’t you?”

“Mm,” Art continues to moan, drawing her knees up on either side, the dress pooling at her waist.

“Say yes.”

“Yes,” it’s all slurred and slow as Pat curls her fingers deep inside, taking her pulse.

It’s easy after that. Fingers freed up to play in her soaking cunt—and Pat’s got quick fingers. Twitchy fingers. So quick she has to press her free hand over Art’s mouth as she gets more relentless with the pace because Art is a screamer. She can’t help it. It’s so delicious at school and so unacceptable at home with her parents watching tv just downstairs.

Even though it sorta turns Pat on. Her parents thinking they’re holed up in her room talking about boys. none of them suspect it. That she’s practicing kissing and cunnilingus with her best friend.

“Don’t fucking close your eyes, if you keep em closed I’m gonna stop, You want me to stop?” Pat breathes. Only has to say it a hundred times.

Art lets out a muffled whine. Her pretty eyes all shiny, pupils so big the ring of blue is barely visible. she’s so close. Pat feels wet licks along her palm.

It happens all at once… Pat can see it when her eyes roll back, hear it when she screams, feels it as she grips at the sheets… arching up off the mattress. Feels it when her fingers and her jeans and the bed get soaked with Art’s orgasm.

“Mm good girl,” Pat says breathlessly, not trusting her to shut up. Keeps her hand tight over Art’s lips. Art shivers through little aftershocks. She used to be so shy about it the first time Pat figured out she could do it. Figured out all the right buttons to push. Now it’s like she expects it. Whispering in Pat’s ear about how her boyfriend never ever makes her squirt like that. (“That just means I should be your boyfriend.” It always gets a giggle but Pat means that shit.)

Art brings her closer, arms wrapped around her, both of them breathing heavy and Pat hasn’t even started yet. Art kisses her. Soft kisses all over Pat’s lips and cheeks. Art’s hands rubbing her back and shoulders, tangled in her wild hair. “Want me to go down on you?” Art asks in her ear.

“You want to?”

“Maybe,” Art says, Pat can hear the grin in her voice.

“Princess,” Pat teases.

“i mean I’d finger you but….”

“You mean you don’t wanna cut off all your nails for me?”

Art laughs, “At least gimme a week with them,” she’s running her fingernails lightly over Pats back. Feels so good Pat doesn’t need anything else. She’s teetering on the edge of nirvana and happy to stay...just like this. Even happier when Art makes her roll over and starts peeling off clothing before moving between her thighs.

“Mm, you know,” Art sighs, “I think that’s the best money I ever wasted.”

(Thank you artdonaldsonbabygirl for the ask!! Sorry so long. i know there’s a million ways this could be better but I’ve been so sleepy lately so… its all i have)

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

fool for you teaser

fratboy!Johnny x f!reader

summary: Johnny has decided that enough is enough! He can’t stop thinking about you and he needs to do something about it! Well… it���s so much easier said than done

teaser word count: 586

expected fic word count: ~4k

release date: Saturday, May 10 at 5pm PDT

warnings: profanity

a/n: fic will be centered around our new and beloved, fratboy!Johnny universe and will chronologically follow after this post! taglist will be closing Friday afternoon at 5pm PDT, please comment/send me an ask/reblog even if you'd like to be added

divider creds to roseraris <3

His classes have already finished for the day, but he finds himself making the familiar walk across campus toward the humanities building. The sky is warm and the sun feels nice on his skin as he strolls and swipes through his phone. In the blink of an eye his phone is falling to the floor as his body collides with another. 

“Oh shoot, I am so sorry,” he hears the other person say. Not just any other person, you. He gulps, falling to his knees beside you as you gather all your papers and books back into a neat pile. He can hear your nervous rambling, “I’m really sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. I’m just running late on my way to the library and- Johnny? What are you doing on this side of campus?”

Johnny isn’t even thinking of a response because while he was listening to you speak, he wasn't listening to what you were saying. His brain was too busy memorizing the timbre and tone of your voice to focus on any words. It takes his brain a whole minute to process your question all while he stares at you blankly. He clears his throat, right, what was he doing over here, “I… the… I like that bathrooms over here…” What the hell, John?! The bathrooms?!

You giggle softly, “the bathrooms? Surely, the engineering building would have the nicest bathrooms since that building is the newest.”

Oh. You actually bought that flimsy excuse. He coughs softly, “are you… are you doing anything right now?” Wait a second, did your fingers just brush against his? Why was a simple brush of your fingers against making his heart race? What the heck was up with him?

“Yeah, actually, I’m on my way to another tutoring session,” you answer as you pile all your things into your arms before standing. 

Johnny stands up slowly, looking down at you as his eyes trace over every small detail on your face, every curve and every edge. His eyes drag over the curve of your lips, the lashes that line your eyes, and the way your cheeks round as you smile up at him. He blinks slowly, once, twice… what was it about you that made him act like such a fool? Why didn’t his brain work how it was supposed to around you? “Right,” he shakes his head with a smile, “of course. I’m sorry for making you later.”

Your brows furrow just slightly before you smile up at him in such a sweet way that he might just feel his pupils turning into hearts. Your hand comes up to squeeze his forearm. Great, now he’s a puddle from a simple squeeze of your hand. “You get this really faraway look in your eye when you look at me. We’ll have to talk about that next time we see each other,” you tell him in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard before hustling away like you always do. 

He doesn’t even care if you see him if you choose to turn away, but he hunches over, one hand griping his t-shirt as he tries to catch his breath. Fuck, this was the best feeling in the world, being around you, looking at you, talking to you. And was it just his imagination or did you hand actually linger when you squeezed his arm? 

His train of thought is interrupted when someone coughs, “dude, are you having an asthma attack or something?”

“Something better,” Johnny breathes out.

( @severeanxietyissues I’m adding you to the taglist FIRST bc we all owe you for Johnny and Bee🙇🏻‍♀️)

[mistmessenger]

A tempestuous meeting | Frater Imperator x female!reader one shot

As Copia’s long-time, albeit now distant friend, the ministry tour team nominated you to reason with him about his recent behaviour. You couldn’t have imagined how his intervention was going to play out…

Pairing: Frater Imperator x female reader

18+ MDNI

Content warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!, smut, dubious consent, dubcon, mention of previous friends-with-benefits situation, angst, very insecure crashing out Frater, manipulation and intimidation, angry/mean Frater, shoe riding, dom/sub dynamic, brat taming i guess, degradation, slapping, rough blowjobs/throatfucking, breathplay, humiliation, hint of dacryphilia, ripping clothes, fingerfucking, spitting, mention of intoxication, pain, overstimulation, brief dry humping, name calling, rough sex, mention of ddlg relations, slight breeding kink, love rockets shot right in between your thighs, mention of voyeurism, no aftercare he’s being a BASTARD!, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

and obligatory ghost fanfic doing paperwork in the ministry.

AO3 Link

Notes: All of the warnings sorry. By far the horniest thing I've ever written, I fear I need my access to notes app and ms word revoked.

Sorry I'm ovulating and need this goofy little guy to fuck me nasty on every surface of that office

A tempestuous meeting

Standing in the chaos of Copia’s temporary office, on the other side of his desk, you felt a million miles away from him.

It pained you to see your longtime friend struggle, but he was hindering the work of the entire tour team. After months of Copia making things difficult, the team held a group meeting without him, and nominated you to try and speak some sense into him.

Initially, it felt like something you would be capable of. You’d been friends since his early Cardinal days. Surely he would listen to you.

But as he hushed you again, as he had done so many times now in your short conversation that you had lost count, pretending to type something on his computer, you were beginning to lose patience.

“Pap- um. Frater. I can’t pretend to understand how difficult this transition is for you. Especially given…”

You pause, unsure if mentioning his mother’s passing is a wise idea as he glanced up at you with a petulant sneer.

“…given the circumstances. But, we all still have jobs to do. And with the tour preparations said jobs are stressful enough without you…”

You trailed off again, suddenly feeling like this was all a terrible idea, like your siblings had set you up for failure. On the one hand, Copia looked a shell of a man, lost without both his mother and the comfort of his role as a performer. On the other, there was something in his eyes, a rage barely suppressed. You knew he was struggling, heard his curses and the slam of his keyboard when you would pass his office.

Instead of the usual sympathy his outbursts would ignite in you, right now, looking into his eyes as he stood from the couch, you felt nervous.

Deep down he was irate, holding it together by a few frayed threads that were on the cusp of snapping, and your intervention seemed to be shearing right through them.

“Go on sorella. Commit to it. Without me doing what?” He grumbled, rifling through a box of papers. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, rather making himself look busy.

“Making our jobs harder than it needs to be…” you whispered, holding your breath, almost flinching as you waited for his response.

He stopped, gaze returning to you. It was nothing like you were used to, his eyes cold and uninviting as he raised his brow.

“Am I?”

“A little…” you try to sound less harsh, cringing at the fact you even had to try and reason with him like this, he was a grown man for gods sake. “The pyro team needs those documents signed so the funds can be transferred and they kind of needed them… like yesterday.”

“Oh… Oh dear. I’m delaying a few fireworks for my brother?” His hand reached for his pen, clicking it incessantly, his aggravation seeming to grow by the second. “It just won’t do, will it?”

This is a disaster.

Biting your lip, you sighed. It was difficult for you to air your frustrations to the man that was supposed to be in charge.

“Frater, I gave you those to sign off on over a week ago, I’ve reminded you-“

“You have reminded me no less than five times.” He snapped, rolling his eyes at you, turning his attention back to the screen.

Seven, actually.

“Sorella, you’ve never minced your words with me before. Why so cagey? Hm?”

Because you’re different now.

You keep your lips pressed in a hard line, unable to say the words to him, not sure if they would send him into a rage or reduce him to tears.

“It’s been a long morning.” You shrugged.

“You’re all tense.”

You’re one to talk.

“Biting your tongue. You think I don’t see your eyes? That I can’t tell there’s some little sly remark rattling around that brain of yours?”

Frowning, you shook your head.

“Frater, look-“

“Ah. Ah ah ah.” He closes the distance between you, and you instinctively take a step back, something difficult to do in the mess of his temporary office without tripping on something.

“I know. They- all of you decided I need a little intervention. And they sent you. And as if you weren’t stressed enough with the tour, now you have to worry about how to tiptoe around me-“

A few steps away from you, you watched as his tone became mocking, his brows furrowed. This behaviour was so unlike him, so different to how he had ever spoken to you before. Pursing your lips, it was hard to stifle your sigh as he seemed intent on pressing your buttons.

“I’m not tiptoeing around anything I-“

“No? That’s why you look like you want to run out the door right now? Why you hardly speak two words to me, unless you’re trying to placate me in order to get me to sign whatever shit you need in the moment?”

“That’s not fair-“

“Not fair.” He scoffed, crossing his arms. He pouted for a moment, before waving you away.

“I will sign your damn forms, come by later, they’re buried in between documents.”

Great, now I’ve done it.

You sighed, calming yourself, trying to reason that he was only being like this because it was you. If any of the others had came to him, he wouldn’t be confident enough to be so rude to their face.

“Frater, they’re right there.” You point to the corner of the desk, untouched from the exact spot you had left them last week.

“I’ll sign them later, I’m busy.”

Lord below give me strength.

You didn’t think your frown lasted long enough for him to notice, but clearly he sensed your irritation.

He flung his pen onto the desk, clenching and unclenching his fists, before running a hand through his hair.

“You… You lot think you have it so difficult, because I will not bend and do whatever this new fucker wants right away.”

“Copia, we all want the same thing, we want the project to succeed.” You tried a final time to reach him, but you knew once he started ranting there was little anyone could do to stop him.

“The same thing? It was succeeding - with me. I do not recall wanting to put up with self-interested little rats interrupting me every hour of the day to come in here and squeak ‘Frater, things must be hard for you but you need to sign this form.’”

As he put on a pitched voice, imitating you, the last of your patience drained.

“You know what? Fuck you. You expect the rest of us to coddle you like your mother did. It’s been over a year Copia, I’m sorry but whether you like it or not things have to keep moving, we don’t have a choice! You acting like a fucking brat isn’t helping anyone.”

Your eyes widened, your heart racing.

Why the fuck did I go and say all that?

“I’m sorry. Frater- I. I’m so sorry.” You could hardly bring yourself to look him in the eye, seeing how dejected your outburst would have made him. Your mind raced, you would have to stand down from your post. Hell, you might even flee the ministry at this point. Why would he tolerate your being here after saying something like that?

As you stepped back once more, ready to go clear you desk and leave a note for the rest of your team to say you were jumping before you got pushed, you frowned, perplexed.

He was… smiling?

The room felt cold.

“Maybe I deserved that.” he spoke softly, letting out a breathy laugh as he shook his head.

You knew that he didn’t believe that, and he certainly didn’t appreciate how you said it.

“I’ll go Papa, I’m sorry.”

“Who?”

“I- Fuck. Frater.”

“It’s been over a year sorella, and still you struggle to address me properly. We have to keep moving, do we not?”

Pointedly he took another step towards you. As you went from shuffling backwards to taking bigger steps, your heel caught on the upturned corner of the rug, sending you back against a stack of boxes.

He laughed, and suddenly the pressure in the room seemed to disperse. He sounded like himself for the first time in a long, long time. Like the Cardinal you used to whisper jokes to during library duties, who could only stifle his chuckles for so long before getting you both in trouble with the ghouls. Like the man he was long before his job as Papa, and now Frater, had taken its toll on him.

You let out a breathy laugh in turn, so caught up in the heat of the moment you weren’t sure what to say.

He stalked past you as you half sat half lay on a throne of haphazardly stacked boxes. You weren’t surprised he didn’t offer you a hand to get up, not after what you’d said. But still he snickered, letting slip that soft little heh sound you used to love hearing. As you stood, your head snapped at the sound of the lock clicking.

“Frater?”

He stood with his forehead pressed against the door, letting out a sigh.

“Let us talk, sorella, hm? All this tension, it is no good. I cannot have you exploding like that on the wrong person, hm?”

He turned to stare you down, his expression almost blank, so hard to read.

The wrong person? As if the boss of the whole ministry isn’t the wrong person…

“Frater, I really am sorry, it was uncalled for. I understand I’ll need to step dow-.”

“Shh.” Stepping past you again he leaned against his makeshift desk, waving you over. “Come. Have a seat.”

You cautiously stepped across to the couch, raising a brow. There was hardly a free inch to spare that wasn’t taken up by files and boxes.

You had to practically hover on the edge of the cushion to avoid sliding onto the floor, made even more awkward with how close he was, towering over you.

“Now, sorella. We’ve been friends for a long time. I would hate for work to change that.”

“I know, I’ll stand down, whatever I need to do-“

“Whatever you need to do to make it up to me? Hm? Well perhaps you could stop interrupting me. That would be a start.” His voice was gentle but the message was loud and clear.

You nodded.

“I was being unfair, I suppose. I know how rigid you can be when it comes to deadlines. How you get yourself… worked up.”

That’s an understatement.

Hell, how many times had he talked you out of your panics over the years? Of course he had to know what his behaviour was doing to you.

“These changes around here have been hard for me, but I can see how it is hard on you too. How much pressure you’ve been putting yourself under lately. You’ve been, eh… overdoing it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed - you come into the office, do the work, back to bed. No time for you. It is no wonder you have all this venom ready to spit at me.”

You frown. Sure, he was right - you were blinkered by your work with the tour, but you’d convinced yourself it was only temporary. The tour would begin and you would get a break. What surprised you was that he had even noticed.

Since the release of Impera the two of you had become distant. Initially you put it down to you both being so busy with your respective roles. And Copia enjoying the limelight that came with being Papa, the feeling that everyone wanted a piece of him.

His speech felt manipulative - pointing out how you were working too hard, neglecting to admit a part of the reason you had to work harder was due to his petulance and lack of cooperation. Neglecting to mention his own tantrums and outbursts.

“I worry that you might have one of these little outbursts toward someone… less tolerant than me. Less, eh… forgiving…”

“I-“

“I asked you to stop interrupting me, sorella.” It felt like more of a warning this time, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

“I think it’s more than apparent that you need a… will we say, outlet, of sorts?”

He sat on the desk, resting his feet each side of you on the couch. Before you might have bantered with him, asking him who raised him to put his feet on the furniture. These days, it didn’t feel like the joke would land the way it used to.

The flimsy desk unsurprisingly creaked under the weight of a fully l grown man. You were already surprised it could hold the weight of his ancient computer monitor.

That seems like a terrible idea-

“Stop it.” He sneered, nudging your knee with his foot. You could see it in his eyes, he was getting agitated again. Or rather, he hadn’t stopped feeling agitated, that brief moment of shared laughter was just that. A fleeting moment.

“Wha- What, Frater?” Your eyes gravitated towards his hands, clasping and unclasping at the edge of the desk.

“Thinking. You squint every time a little remark goes through your head. Do you think I do not know you? That I don’t see these things? Spit it out, whichever comment it is you’re itching to make.”

What happened to “don’t interrupt”?

“I just don’t think it’s wise for you to be sitting on the desk like that Frater, it’s not exactly stable.”

Bit like you, actually.

You were jolted from the thought by his foot pressing down on your thigh again. You pouted, hoping his shoes were at least clean.

It wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself between his legs, but this was different. This wasn’t fun. It felt like being scolded as a child.

“Bah. Whatever.” He scoffed, that childish manner of his poking through the cracks again, “As I was saying. You need an outlet, yes?”

“I’ll bear that in mind, Frater.” You agree, holding your tongue just to placate him, as you found yourself doing so often these days.

“You’re my friend sorella, I want to help you.” He leaned forward, the pressure on your thigh growing uncomfortable.

“You have enough on your plate-“

“Interrupt me one more time sorella, I swear-“ he cut himself off, seeing how your eyes widened. His expression seemed to light up, gleeful at seeing you almost cowering from him. You wondered just how your friend had changed so much.

His voice was hushed.

“Now, you will be good, yes?”

He moved his foot, and you winced as the pressure was finally taken off your thigh, only for a moment. Your precarious position at the edge of the couch allowed him space to press the point of his leather shoe between your legs. You startled, scowling at the sudden sensation, combined with the patronising, demanding tone he spoke in. You had no way to move, his other leg caging you in.

It was never like this with him. The occasional inebriated quick fuck in one of your rooms. No dynamic, just two people getting the release they needed from each other and going back about their lives after.

As a million thoughts raced through your head, he pressed harder, causing you to gasp, a little reminder that you still hadn’t answered him.

“Copia- Frater. I’m not doing this. Not here.”

“I know you. Well enough to know how much you leave unsaid. To know how much you need.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about, cut it out!” You squirmed, trying to ignore the sensations as he tilted his foot, as if to torture you. He rolled his eyes again, taking no notice as you grabbed at his leg, attempting to push him away.

“Oh please. I’ve always left you, ah, unsatisfied, no?”

“No?” You scoffed, shaking your head, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Language, sorella.” He murmured, a smirk twitching at the edge of his mouth as you tried in vain to shrink yourself against the boxes on the couch to get away.

You shook your head, a whimper escaping your throat as he refused to ease up, watching you as if you were some sort of experiment, examining how each movement caused you to squirm.

“It was always me seeking you out, sorella. In spite of my offering. You were kind enough to indulge me, but would never seek me out to satiate your needs… I could tell you always walked away wanting more… something… different.”

You couldn’t speak to deny him, too overwhelmed at the feeling growing in your core as his foot pressed the seam of your trousers against you in just the right way, combined with how confused you were at how things had disintegrated to this. And frankly, he was right in a way, as much as you wanted to claim otherwise.

“Did you think me incapable? Awkward, bumbling old Cardi, couldn’t possibly know how to put you in your place… No use for anything other than a pity fuck-“

“Quit feeling fucking sorry for yourself!” You snapped, not feeling so remorseful this time as he put more pressure on you, seemingly

having figured out just the right spot to get you worked up. You resorted to hitting at his leg now, feeling humiliated.

Who the fuck does he think he is? I’m trying to do my job here.

“Aha.” He scoffed, taking no notice of your hits, “there you go again, doesn’t it feel better to let those emotions out?”

“Enough, Frater!” You attempted to sound stern, but with how flustered you felt, each movement of his leg disarming you, it came out as a pathetic plea.

Attempting to swing your leg over his foot to get away - the one that wasn’t occupied toying with your cunt - you slipped from your seat, landing to sit on the ground with an unceremonious thud.

With a deadpan expression, Copia wasted no time in pressing his foot against your throat, pressing your head back against the couch. You were sure the pattern of his soles would leave a mark on your skin.

“Now who is being a fucking brat, hm?”

You loathed to admit this was doing something to you. After all his childish behaviour you didn’t owe him this - he owed you, and the rest of your team numerous apologies.

You glared up at him, your breath faltering slightly as he put pressure on your windpipe.

“Fuck you. You’ve always been so fucking spoilt. Too blind to see how good you have it.” You rasped, unable to hold back your frustrations. You hated this. Hated the way you thought about someone you’d held dear for so long, hated the venom coming out of your mouth, but it was truth, to you.

You hated that he felt good about any of this arguing.

You coughed as he took his foot from your neck, standing above you with that smug smile on his face.

It caught you off guard when you felt the sting of leather against your cheek, the slap ringing in your ear.

You looked at him aghast, unable to determine if you felt that way because he hit you, or because it ignited something in you.

“What happened to you being forgiving?” You snarled, rubbing at your face.

He spoke softly again, as if you were having a friendly chat, “Forgiveness comes after contrition, sorella.”

“I’m not playing this stupid game. We have work to do.”

“You leave when I dismiss you.”

Fuck.

It took you a second to shake off the thrill the tone of his voice stoked at within you, shaking your head as you tried to stand.

“I know you sorella, I see what you want. What you’d been seeking out elsewhere.” His voice was gravelly as he kept you pushed down.

“We can… help each other out, hm? Like friends should…”

His gloved hand grasped at your hair, earning a protest from you, quickly muffled as he pulled you face first between his legs. The zip of his trousers only served to irritate the reddened skin on your cheek more. But you were easily distracted by what lay beneath. He was hard.

He really was enjoying this.

Swatting at his legs again you found yourself dumbfounded when he finally pushed you away with a snarl.

“Are you going to fight me every step of the way, sorella? When I do all this for you, hm? Go on. Show your Frater how sorry you are.” He mocked, gesturing at the bulge in his pants, and you scoffed. Before you could tell him he was being insane he slapped you again, the other side of your face this time.

He grinned as you let out a whimper, your eyes stinging with tears from the impact.

Warring with your mixed emotions, you unenthusiastically undid his fly, followed by his buttons. You trained your eyes on the floor, feeling humiliated.

Of course he wasn’t wearing underwear, you had to hold back a scoff as he shoved your hand aside to free his cock, evidently impatient with your reluctance.

You’d never taken time to look too closely at it. But now, even trying to avert your eyes, you could tell it looked throbbing, imposing and angry.

Much like him. Probably just as bitter.

Sensing something unsaid, he smacked you again.

“Focus, sorella.”

Pulling you forward by your hair again, he pressed his length against your face, hand tightening in an unspoken demand.

Placing your hands on his thighs in an attempt to steady yourself, you relented, squeezing your eyes shut as you offered your lips to him.

He buried himself within your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Quickly you had to adjust your breathing to compensate.

With a glance up at him, your eyes widened. You could see it in his eyes again, looking at you the way he used to, his expression soft. But it hardly lasted a split second before he pulled your hair, prompting you to start moving.

You tried to maintain some form of pacing as you sucked him, made difficult with his relentless thrusts ensuring you took every inch of him. You choked while he fucked your throat selfishly, his movements not giving you opportunity to work him with your tongue as you would with any other partner. Your vision blurred, feeling tears track down your cheeks.

“You think I don’t know what you need?" He grunted, burying himself to the hilt and holding you in place.

You tried to ignore the want burning within you as you felt his cock twitching at the back of your throat.

Wincing, you tapped at his legs as it became harder to breathe, a pleading sob escaping you.

"Hmph." He muttered, pulling your head back again. You spluttered, gasping for air for the few seconds respite he allowed you before pulling you back. He slowed this time, staring down at you, biting on his lip. You were conflicted - torn between making a show of it, showing him what you could really do, or protesting against his treatment of you.

He cursed at you as you slowly swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock, causing his whole body to twitch. Feeling spite building within you again, you repeated the motion a few more times, causing him to hiss at the overstimulation.

“Sorella, you little-“ he grunted, shoving himself down your throat again, pinching your nose.

You felt your blood run cold, terrified as you tried to fight for breath.

“Look at me.”

You complied, your eyes quickly meeting his as you grew dizzy, your head pounding. He stared you down coolly as he let go of your nose. He wasted no time in fucking your throat again, ignoring your chokes and gags, not giving you any opportunity to recover.

“Always knew your mouth was good for more than pestering me about damned papers."

Your stomach flipped as you gagged once again, terrified you were going to throw up, your throat and jaw beginning to ache.

As he pulled you in once more, spilling himself in the back of your throat, you were surprised he hadn’t busted your lip with how forceful he had been.

He pulled you away harshly, letting free his grasp on your hair causing you to slump back against the couch, crying and spluttering.

He had you terrified a few times, convinced he would not let you up for air, that he would let you black out.

He wouldn’t have… would he?

You didn’t know anymore, and it was enough to make you sob harder.

His shoulders shuddered as he steadied his breath, pupils blown as he stared down at you, at the streaks of ruined makeup running down your cheeks, the spit and cum stringing from your chin.

“Oh doll… you look perfect.” He crooned, gripping your chin. You let out something between a choke and a sob as he forced you to look up at him.

“Isn’t this so much better than fighting, hm?”

You screwed up your nose in disagreement, feeling the heat in your face radiating down your neck with every humiliating jab he levied at you.

"Now..." he murmured, fixing his trousers as he knelt on the floor before you. He grasped at your waistband, and suddenly you felt the urge to resist growing within you again. Before he could pull at your trousers, you kicked and squirmed against him.

"No. Enough!" You snarled, voice hoarse as you rolled onto your hands and knees, making a shaky attempt to crawl away.

He growled, grasping you by your shoes to pull you back into place. In the scuffle, he managed to yank your shoes off, ignoring your attempts to shove him away as he harshly tugged again at your trousers.

What a shit day to wear the ones with an elasticated waist.

It was too late for any modesty, and yet you still squirmed and kicked at him. It was no use, of course, but a sick part of you didn’t want to lie down and make this easy for him. After all, hadn’t he been making work so difficult for you lately with his petulance?

Practically growling, he lunged at you, painfully pinning you down with one hand on your shoulder, your face shoved in the carpet as he made quick work of discarding your trousers.

It shouldn’t feel so thrilling, your cunt shouldn’t be throbbing so much in response to this bizarre behaviour.

You heard him suck in a breath between his teeth, examining your underwear - plain black, a little lace round the edges, nothing to write home about. Your face burned again as he tugged at them, and you reached behind your back to try and stop him.

He squeezed your shoulder harder.

That’ll bruise.

For a split second you felt relief as his other hand moved away from your underwear, and you managed to glance back.

Of course he wasn’t giving up. You held your breath as you watched him reach for something, rifling through the disorganised mess on his desk.

You heard his soft “aha” when he found what he was looking for, the ornate letter opener glinting in the light.

“No don’t you da-“

Too late, with two harsh rips, he pulled the dull blade through the fabric. He stared you down clinically, shoving the ruined panties in his pocket.

He leaned back to examine you, now fully exposed from the waist down, save for your socks.

“Good… it is nice to have options, is it not?” he mused, using his knee to spread your legs apart, shuffling between them, “next time you interrupt me… what shall it be, eh? My cock or your panties?”

You bit your tongue, pressing your face into the carpet again only to hide how the blood rushed to your cheeks, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He leaned over you, breath hot on your neck.

“And do not think I did not notice how wet they are.”

You thrashed again, as he easily pulled you over to lie on your back, one hand splayed across your chest to keep you pinned in place. Gritting your teeth you tried to squeeze your thighs together. It was short lived before he adjusted his position, his breaths deep as he clawed your legs apart, kneeling on your thighs to keep you spread.

You couldn’t ignore the chill that raced down your spine watching him bring his hand to his mouth, teeth clamping down on the leather to pull off his glove, tossing it aside. Deep down you were terrified, but something kept you rooted to the carpet, holding your breath as you watched him.

He’s beautiful.

Meeting your wide eyes, he laughed again.

“This isn’t funny, Copia.”

He rolled his eyes, spitting between your legs causing you to twitch. You let out a conflicted groan - disgust and arousal warring within you.

“No? You’ve been proving me right every step of the way. Letting me show you your place.”

He rubbed at you, coating his fingers in his spit and your slick.

You whined as he pushed three fingers in with only a little resistance. No working your way up to it today, it seemed.

“Oh…” you gasped as he curled his fingers, moving his thumb to circle your clit. He hadn’t even started and it all felt too much for you, too intense.

But he froze. You hadn’t noticed yourself squeezing your eyes closed, but upon opening them, he was smirking at the confusion in your furrowed brows.

“Take what you need, doll. Lord knows everyone else has.” His tone was stern, challenging, but your heart ached at his words. Deep down you could sense the hurt within him, and for a second you wanted to forget this whole sordid scene and comfort your friend.

Until the hand across your chest moved, as if he could tell what you were thinking. Snaking his hand under your shirt, he shoved your bra up, pinching your nipple hard between his finger and thumb.

“Do you need me to tell you again?”

He didn’t. The pain of his grip as he switched between heavily groping at each of your breasts caused you to buck your hips, begrudgingly grinding against his hand.

It wasn’t long before you lost yourself, staring at the ceiling as your hips moved rhythmically against his hand. He was almost statuesque, callous as his gaze bore down on you. You would have hardly thought he had any interest in what you were doing if it weren’t for how the rise and fall of his chest seemed to pick up speed, his breaths coming quick and shallow.

“I’d have never pictured this years ago…” he mulled, savouring your moans as he suddenly switched from pulling at your breasts to lightly circling each nipple.

“Oh. Oh fuck.” You cried out, attempting to tune out his taunts and the squelch of your wet cunt against his fingers as you chased deliverance from the burning pressure growing in your core. With one hand you gripped the plush carpet, trying to find purchase to aid your movements, with the other you covered your face, unwilling to let him see you fall apart like this.

“…That you’d be so needy.”

“I don’t need you.” You snarled, chiding yourself for letting him get a reaction from you.

“Hah,” he jeered, flicking his thumb over your clit, forcing a sob from you, as if you needed to be reminded of what you were doing, “don’t need me, no? Fucking yourself stupid on my hand, get up and walk away if you don’t need me.”

You whined, fighting back the urge to curse at him. It was a lose-lose situation. He grew irritated if you spoke back, or irritated when you ignored his ridicule. Either way you were getting him worked up again.

You reverted to trying to ignore him. If he was so insistent that he would provide you with an outlet, you were going to take advantage of the offer.

“As I thought. Always so proud sorella, who could think someone so orderly was just begging to be ruined?”

“Shit-“

You spasmed, clenching around his fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as you came. You let out a few cracked sobs, your throat still aching.

It had hit you quicker than you’d expected, begrudgingly admitting to yourself that his taunts had something to do with it.

The bliss of your orgasm was short lived, quashed by the shame and embarrassment that washed over you as you caught your breath, staring at the ceiling.

As a sense of clarity, and horror, crept into your mind, Copia tutted. He flexed his fingers, causing you to jump.

“No, no no no…” you whispered, lazily shaking your head. It was too much, too soon, too sensitive.

“I decide when you are done. Understand?”

“No, I- ah-” You gasped as he languidly pumped his fingers inside you, not prepared to let you come to your senses and call this off just yet. He pulled his hand out from under your shirt, reaching up to press his thumb across your lips, hushing your cries as he leaned over you.

Your thighs felt numb under his weight, shaking with every flick of his thumb over your swollen clit.

“Are you still sorry? For how you dared to speak to your dear Frater?” He murmured, rocking his fingers back and forward within you, ignoring your gasps.

“Mmhm.” You nodded, eyes watering as your core burned again, insufferably, this time.

“Good… good….” he whispered, pressing the palm of his hand over your lips, “then you will give me another.”

There was no question, only a demand as he slipped a fourth finger within you, stretching you to your limit almost painfully. You groaned as he pumped against the wet heat of your cunt, his eyes alight as you both felt another trickle of wetness gush from you.

“That’s it, sorella.” he cooed, ignoring the strangled noises that died in your covered mouth.

It wasn’t long before he had found just the right movements to get your back arching from the carpet, your hands grasping at his arms to no avail, body jerking in response to each swipe of his thumb over your clit.

Your vision became dark, spotted from squeezing your eyes shut so hard, as if not seeing his actions would save you from the aching tightness in your gut.

Your entire body seemed to tense again as he dragged you over the edge, all but kicking and screaming. Your muted whines only served to paint that smug grin back on his face.

He waited until your orgasm had passed, until your pussy stopped pulsing around his fingers before he withdrew.

You were exhausted, your eyes fluttering shut. You didn’t resist him as he uncovered your mouth, his gloved hand giving way to the one coated with your slick, fingers prodding at your lips in a silent demand. You let your lips part, idly licking and sucking each digit, your face burning red as you tasted your own release on them.

“Look at me.” Copia growled, snapping you away from your trance. Your eyes lazily moved to meet his as you licked the last trace of yourself from his hand.

He leaned back, lips parted as he studied you, his breathing still shallow, his paints smudged from biting his lip.

You felt too exposed, could feel yourself wanting to sink into the ground to escape his cold stare.

Shifting onto your elbows you tried to think of any feeble reason to excuse yourself.

“No you don’t.” he snarled, quickly slipping his jacket from his shoulders, throwing it onto the couch. You caught the sheen of sweat on his forehead glint in the light as he frowned.

He gripped your shoulders, pushing you back down, leaning across you, his lips ghosting over your neck.

“You got two, it is only fair that I get another, no?” He whispered, grinding himself against you. He was rock hard again.

You bit your lip. You had always thought him a one and done kind of guy. But then again, this whole encounter was showing just how much you had underestimated him throughout the years.

You let out a surprised squeak as he kissed you. This was familiar territory, just as needy as your previous intoxicated encounters with him.

You let yourself get carried away in the most tender moment you’d had since walking into his office earlier, your arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to rut against you.

It was over the second he sensed you growing complacent, pulling your arms away and pinning them to the floor. After breaking the kiss you caught him staring at your parted lips.

You were sure he was going to kiss you again, closing your eyes and bracing yourself, gasping as the rough fabric of his jeans dragged a moan from your throat.

He spat, your eyes snapping open at the sound, choking as it hit your already raw throat.

“Bastard!” you spluttered, rage and humiliation flooding your chest as he snickered, his hands moving back to his trousers, freeing himself again.

“You didn’t like it? No?” He jeered, a low moan rumbling in his throat as he rubbed his cock against your wet folds.

“But yet you keep swallowing everything I give you… Needy little puttana…”

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes rolled back at his words, biting your lip as he pushed into you, taking his time to savour the feeling as he sheathed himself within you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d fucked each other, evidently something he was pondering too in that moment as his hands grasped at your waist.

“Just as inviting as I remember, sorella…”

He waited, but you didn’t return the compliment - his ego didn’t need it, as much as he had been feeling sorry for himself these days.

Grunting, he gripped your thighs, pushing your knees towards your chest, seemingly giving up on trying to provoke you with words. Finally, he began to move, his pace not gentle like it had once been. The room filled with the noise of his hips slapping against the back of your thighs, and your mewling as he plunged himself deep, over and over into your sensitive cunt.

“Who is doing this for you nowadays?” He grunted, almost conversationally, the question barely discernible over your whimpering.

“No-one…”

“Really?” While he kept his expression schooled, you could tell by the way his thrusting faltered that the answer surprised him. He tutted, cooing sarcastically.

“You poor deprived thing you… who was the last?”

You frowned at his condescension, your throat scratching as you answered, “There was that bishop for a while…”

“Oh yes. It’s been that long, hm?”

You nodded as he thrust into you harder at the mention of him, his grip on the backs of your thighs making you wince.

“What was it he called you again? ‘Daddy’s cumslut?’” He scoffed, spitting at you again. Your confusion and embarrassment served to distract you from the disgust you should have felt from his spit landing against your cheek.

“How do you know-”

“-I heard the pair of you, in one of the supply closets. The party after the Impera livestream.” He grunted, his greying hair falling over his eyes as voice dropped to a low snarl that sent a shiver straight to your core, “You don’t know how often that memory kept me going… those long nights on the tour bus.”

He chuckled, biting on his lip as he felt your walls tighten around his cock at the idea.

“Is that what you need, hm? A daddy?” He mocked, slowing his pace as if to torment you.

“No. Oh fuck.”

“What do you need then?”

You knew what he wanted you to say, and knew you were avoiding giving the satisfaction of saying it aloud. Shaking his head, he stilled, the tip of his cock just at your entrance. As you squirmed, moaning at the loss of him, he pushed down on your thighs, keeping you pinned and deprived.

“Frater… please…”

That did the trick, a smug smile growing on his lips as he thrust into you fully. You covered your mouth, gasping and moaning as his hips snapped with a new found sense of urgency, each movement leaving you trembling.

“Did you let him fill you up? Like a good little slut, hm?”

You weren’t going to dignify him with a response, changing your mind when he leaned over, raising his hand to you.

Flinching, you cried out. “No!”

The slap didn’t land, instead he gripped your face, fingers digging into your cheek.

“Oh, really?” He scoffed. If you didn’t know him so well you might have missed the hesitation barely masked in his tone - deep down he was unsure he wanted to know the answer. Copia had always been insistent that the two of you careful when you had hooked up before. It only served to make you feel just that little bit more wrong about how he was fucking you now, the idea of stopping to find a condom hadn’t even been a consideration in the heat of the moment.

“No…” you trailed off, glancing away as he looked at you quizzically, his harsh pumping slowing again, as if to demand an explanation.

“He just..” you groaned in embarrassment, tilting your head back to avoid Copia’s eyes “he always finished in my mouth…”

You whimpered, feeling how that made his cock twitch deep within you as he hissed.

“Puttana.”

Your face burned red.

“Fuck off. Oh-“ you groaned as he rutted into you harder, his eyes snapping away from yours to watch your pussy engulfing his cock with each snap of his hips, seemingly mesmerised.

He murmured, his low tone becoming harder to maintain as his voice cracked.

“What a waste. If… fuck, sorella…” you could hear him hold back small whimpers as he began to lose his restraint, the sounds barely noticeable as you threw your head back, muffling your cries with each stroke of his cock against your walls.

“If I’d known… back then… I’d have filled this pretty pussy every time…”

“Copia…” you growled, attempting to protest the idea, but your voice lacked conviction, betraying the fact you were desperate now to feel him flood you.

The sweat beading on his forehead had trickled slightly, smudging the paint around his eyes. His pounding was becoming more erratic, cursing as your cunt pulsed around his cock, his breath hitching in his throat.

“My sorella… my pain in the ass… my little fucking brat.” he muttered venomously between thrusts, driving himself deep within you once more as he stilled.

Your hands clutched at the carpet as his cock twitched, coating your walls with his spend.

You stared up at him, bewildered. Your chest ached, watching as he panted for air, his eyes squeezed shut, his hair now in disarray.

With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes, not to meet your gaze but to watch as his cum lazily seeped from your cunt as he pulled out.

As he looked you in the eyes, you found yourself desperate for him to speak, in spite of how you’d wanted him to be quiet for most of this ordeal. You’d never admit it to him now, but you wanted praise, wanted to be told how well you did.

“See, sorella? How well I know you? Know what you need?”

He smirked. He knew what you wanted, and the bastard was not about to give it to you.

As he righted his clothes, you just about managed to shuffle away from him to grab your discarded trousers and shoes, quickly redressing yourself before slumping back to the floor, shattered. You held your tongue remembering why exactly you now had no option but to go commando, fearful that telling him he owed you new underwear might set him off again.

You stared blankly, trying to process it all, and waiting expectantly, hoping that he would change his mind and comfort you as you felt yourself crashing back to reality.

He kneeled, reaching towards the desk to grab the forms that had served as the catalyst for all of this from the corner of his desk, before sitting beside you on the floor, letting out an exhausted groan. You just about forced yourself to look at up him, face burning red.

With a smirk he scrawled his signature at the tabs you had neatly dotted across the document.

“Here you go.” He spoke surprisingly brightly, given the way your meeting panned out, tossing the papers onto your heaving chest.

“…Thank you, Frater.”

“Of course.” He stood, sliding on his jacket and grabbing his car keys from the desk. “Now, be a doll and swing by Mrs Psaltarian’s office, tell her I’ll be out of office for the evening. I trust I will see you tomorrow to further pester me with this administrative bullshit, yes?”

“Yeah…” you whispered, sounding unsure of yourself. A part of you still contemplated resigning.

Those thoughts were cut short when you found the tip of his shoe pressing against your windpipe again, his brow raised expectantly.

“Yes, Frater.”

He grinned. It troubled you to realise this was the calmest you had seen him in months.

“Okie dokie! Be good, sorella.”

You nodded shakily as he stepped over you, his smirk still unsettling you. He was up to something, but so exhausted, and so perplexed at what had just transpired you couldn’t begin to theorise on what it was.

You just about had time to clean yourself up before returning to your duties. Mrs Psaltarian was seemingly oblivious to your rattled state, too busy fussing about her precious Cardi.

Back in your office, ignoring the questioning eyes of other siblings wondering how your talk went, you leaned against the scanner, legs still trembling as you sent the forms to your computer, mind a million miles away. Or rather, your mind still down the hall, abandoned on the floor of his office.

You had attached them to the email for the pyro team, opening the attachment to run your eye over it one last time.

That pompous little fucker.

Each page signed with “Papa Emeritus IV” served to stoke at your irritation. No wonder he had been grinning. He was mocking you.

Barely holding back a growl you sighed, printing a fresh copy of the forms, resigned to trying to persuade him to sign it with his proper title tomorrow.

You would wear that nice purple v-neck blouse he always used to compliment. Maybe that would do the trick.

[kireilien]

ur fav is back with better thoughts thanku❤️ brian has been taking a toll on me (dont tell ky) something about him being so insanely tall does something to me on the insides. thats all i gotta say.

deleting what i originally said bc i gatekept this LOL here is the long awaited brian love letter mi love… this also got long...

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing, mentions of alcohol; teasing dom!brian, sub!reader, fem!reader, race neutral reader, f2l?, reader watched porn and gets “caught”, short reader, size kink, humiliation, unprotected sex, creampie, use of “shorty”

“hey, shorty, you can’t get that?” 

“oh shit– c’mon shorty, i can’t see you from up here.”

“i hate my height, but at least i’m not shorty’s height!” 

i mean, it’s not your fault you’re just a little shorter than everyone, right? actually no, brian is just so fucking tall. he didn’t need to constantly remind you how much shorter you are from him every single second. but something about it made sense. the way he laughed after tussling your hair, using your waist to move you with his large hands, the way you were out of sight if he was behind you.

as much as you joked with him that you hated his comments and his nickname of “shorty,” it never failed to make your heart nearly jump out of your body and most importantly your panties pool in wetness by just thinking about how big he is— in every shape and form compared to you. but you’re never gonna admit that to him that… right?

that wasn’t until you invited your friend group over— including brian— for a little get together. you thought everything was fine until brian asks, “shorty, do you have gum? i’m sick of drinking.” the friend group laughs at his small truth bomb before you snicker and say, “i have some in my room, it’s on my desk.” brian nods and walks to your room. his hands are in his pockets, not bothering to turn on the lights.

it was semi-clean, just a few things out of place. oh whatever, its not like theres anything you wouldn’t want him seeing... right? oh how that was so wrong.

brian reaches for the gum that was perched on top of your laptop. with one accidental swipe, the laptop turns on. and there it is. paused porn. you were watching porn before everyone came over. brian smirks as he gently scrolls down to see the title of the video.

“petite size queen gets fucked by a big, fat, thick dick”

so fucking nasty.

you like size kink porn.

but i mean, brian couldn’t really make fun of you. he for one is a reason why size kinks exist, but he could feel his cock twitch. god, years of making fun of how short you were, fucking his fist tightly late at night to imagine how your tight pussy sucks in his fat cock, they’re finally over. brian simply takes a stick of gum and walks out, waiting for the perfect time to expose you.

once everyone heads home, he insisted of cleaning up with you because he “ate the most”. when he puts away the last bottles of alcohol, he asks it.

“so... size kink, huh?” you nearly drop the plates in your hands from his words, “where the fuck did you get that from?!” your face is getting hot. did you really forget to x out of your browser? brian scoffs at your dumbfounded response, “don’t watch size kink porn before you host a party which has your perfect big, fat, thick, dick in it, petite size queen.” his eyes trace your body, he’s gonna have you. finally.

your voice gets caught in your throat, but you swallow down the lump. “the fuck does that mean,” you croak out. he’s not actually gonna fuck you, right? he’s just tall. that doesn’t mean his cock is big enough to break you in two like you’ve always wanted, right? brian crouches to your eye level and whispers against your cheek, “you wanna get fucked by a big, fat, thick, dick, petite size queen? or not?”

oh, fuck it.

ending up your back into your mattress, brian hovering you, drilling his fat cock in and out of your obscenely drenched cunt wasn’t a sight you were expecting to see.

brian was so big. bigger than you could even imagine. he’s easily bigger than any other cock you’ve taken. the way his cock head is already pressing at your cervix, only when he bottoms out. the way his hands envelop your hips, the way his shoulders swallow you whole. you’re pathetically wrapping your weak arms around his neck as he grits into your ear, “is this enough cock for you, shorty?”

unable to say anything by how hard he’s pounding his cock into you, you simply let out a croaked moan into his ear. “fuck— can’t even say anything by how— hard i’m fucking you? could’ve had this from the— start—!” he groans once more. you’re clenching harder on him, unable to do anything but that. his cock is stretching you, his veins make it even more impossible to be fucked normally.

“tiny ass pussy— clenching on me— squeezing me— are you forcing me to make me cum inside—?” when those words leave brian’s lips, you can’t help but gasp out a weak, “yes—! please do—!” you make brian so fucking insane. he could practically feel how his cock twitches at your plead of him wanting to cum inside and fill this tiny pussy up with his hot cum from his fat ass dick pressing at your cervix.

the pads of his fingers press into your hips as he feels his thrusts turn sloppy, “fuck— gonna fill this nasty— tiny— pussy up—! c’mon, tell me you want— my cum. tell me you wanna be filled,” he moans out as his arms are weak. his head falls into the crook of your neck as you whimper out, “fill me up, brian. fill my tiny pussy— up—!”

with his last few thrusts, he cums inside, flooding your gummy walls with his white ropes. his cock is jerking against your tight pussy as he turns to your side, back hitting your mattress. you room echos with both of your labored breaths before brian pulls you into his embrace. “been wanting to do that for— so fucking long.” you swallow down a lump in your throat, “why’d you wait so long?”

brian raises his brow, “you hated me calling you shorty?” you laugh a little, “that was me flirting, why didn’t you fuck me sooner?” brian jerks his head, “i would’ve if i knew that pussy of yours was so tight and greedy,” he laughs along. you snicker at his words, “like the type they talk about in the bible?”

“don’t bring up the bible when we just had premarital sex as friends, shorty.”

back 2 catalog

[myl0v3l1f3]

Jeckole nsfw hcs i found in the bottom of my shoe that im lwk embarassed to post 💔

Nicole is low-key a bottom unless shes sober.

Jecka goes with the flow but prefers to take

Biting, hickie, scratches are everywhere.

Can goes for genuinely hours

Nicole REALLY likes jecka’s tits. She likes to hold, squeeze, grab, etc etc. they’re like stress balls.

Nicole’s favourite part of jecka is her stomach, ass, tits, lips and thighs

Jecka’s favourite parts of Nicole is her eyes, hands, DICK (who said that?), waist and hips.

It’s not even that kinky tbh now that I think about it. The most they’re going is a vibrator, if they use toys, but it’s generally pretty simple.

Nicole eats pussy like it’s her last meal. Jecka’s favourite way of getting off - laying down on the bed, in the kitchen, in a public bathroom, sitting on Nicole’s face, it’s all the same she just knows it gets her toes curling.

Jecka is really cuddly after they fuck, like, she needs her hands all over Nicole, face against shoulder, ass to vag type shit.

Nicole tends to go quiet and still and stiff. She doesn’t like to speak, or do anything really.

They both have som type of sex related trauma, so after sex is normally very quiet, and (even if Nicole is frozen up) they’re cuddling because it means a lot to them.

Nicole isn’t the best at after care but if Jecka is seriously whiny and dramatica about how much her body hurts, she’ll get her some water and an Advil. Jecka likes to get Nicole alcohol and will run her a bath because Nicole seriously likes hot baths. She takes them very seriously.

Nicole is very silent, very emotionless when she’s fucking. She’ll have a hand on hip, maybe kissing jecka’s neck a bit but she isn’t very vocal, sometimes jecka doesn’t even know if she’s enjoying it or not. Shes very get it over and done with, not wanting to waste time with excessive foreplay (she’ll have some though)

Jecka is very vocal. Like really fucking loud. She likes to be kissing Nicole whenever she can, holding her face, mumbling jumbled up praise like ‘you’re doing so good, I love you so much’ because she really fucking loves Nicole. It hurts.

Nicole low-key has a praise kink. She fucking adores it. When jecka’s blowing her and telling her how responsive she is, or if jecka is strap deep in her ass and telling her how well she takes it. Or if Nicole’s eating jecka out and jecka’s whining about how well Nicole’s doing. It sends her over the edge. Shes taking it to the grave though, no matter how noticeable it is.

Jecka likes it when her body’s worshiped. If Nicole’s whisper ping on the odd day ‘you’re so pretty’ or ‘you look good from this angle’ she is cumming in the sPOT. Even if it’s just little things like lingering on a certain part of her for a while longer than the others.

They both like seeing the other cry, or tear up. Something about glassy eyes turns them on a lot.

Jecka would rather kill herself than have a bush, so she’s always smooth. She eats healthy too and drinks a lot of water and pineapple juice, so she taste sweet too because fuck having a fishy Fanny fr.

Nicole trims, she has one of those hair lines going up her stomach but it’s really thin and light so you can’t really see it. Shes too lazy to wax or anything, because that’s painful and shaving comes with the risk of cutting a ball off, using jecka’s nail siccors it is. It’s like watery but not watery at the same time, somewhere in the middle, she doesn’t eat that healthily but she drinks water sometimes so it’s a bit salty.

Cowboy, missionary, doggy, lotus? (Sitting in ur lap facing eachover Im using google rn) r mains.

They don’t like PDA at all. Maybe a hand hold hear and there but not really.

Morning sex is Jecka’s favourite but Nicole prefers it at night or early evening.

Jecka is high pitched, whiny, and desperate, kinda like panting, probably stereotypical moans.

Nicole grunts if she’s topping but if she’s bottoming then it’s like raw. Does that make sense do u know what I mean.

Jecka has a nipples pierced.

They’re always kissing up eachovers stomachs or spines.

i found this in mine and @silverwasafukintrainwreck old chat so idk if u want this but 🤷

[the-brainrot-central]

Hot tip for teens: maybe don’t go to college straight out of high school, especially if you don’t know what you want to study, have zero work ethic, motivation, or desire to succeed, and no goals correlated to obtaining your degree to motivate you. Cus if you do, you’re gonna be pretty fucked.

[playlamb]

I don’t know how to fucking read. I can’t read anything and have to be guided and introduced slowly because anything foreign (like unfamiliar cadence/words) is disorienting and unbearable, it overstimulates me to the point of meltdowns. This has made learning impossible, it gave up years ago on trying to look up books or doing research on things even thou it really wanted to. It fucking sucks man. I want to read philosophy. I want to read about religions and alchemy and the occult. There’s so much I can’t do alone and need guidance for. I don’t want to be disabled in this way but I am. I am not fucking around when I say I want support- friends/community, and partners willing and able to help me in this way. Nobody has ever helped me with my needs so I know Nothing. I can’t cook an egg. I can’t do dishes. I can learn but I need assistance. Some things like the ones I just mentioned— I can do them if I’m guided the first however many times, and once the process feels familiar I can do it alone, you’ll never have to help again. Other things I need assistance for longer, or I’ll always need help with. Lol I hate my life so much, I love the idea of independence , I love the feeling of freedom, but I’ve never had it. It’s possible but I’ve never had the help I need to achieve that, in any form. At all, ever. I’m so tired, because I hate this. I hate the total neglect I’ve suffered, and I don’t know what to do but I, lol I don’t want to live this way anymore, I can’t.

I am not kidding when I say I want to be adopted, but I don’t like depending on one person fully, i don’t like a life like that, and I don’t want to burden anyone..I like the idea of living with a partner or something, or even next to a partner, but also having some support network where I have many people I can ask for help,. I like learning and I like being independent , I just, need assistance.

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[simcardiac-arrested]

zavijava info PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!! PLEASEEEEE ZAVIJAVA COME HOME ... PLEASE .... umm um um ill tell you about umm . tma au im making for nastya if u tell me about her .PLEASE!!!!!!!

so she is definitely a star of some kind. i mean she is an angel but in that story in particular The Stars are kind of angels. like they’re otherworldly beings and they jus kinda hang out. cosmically. it’s a different dimension separated from the human one but like, obviously stars still exist for humans, they just don’t do anything crazy because the rules of the world dictate that their realities shouldn’t interact. angels can observe the other world from far up above yet they still exist on a different level. But tbh zavijava had never enjoyed the otherworldly ethereal whatever lifestyle—she just didn’t feel like she fit in there. she is a #1 humans fan though so she knows that’s where she’d fit in. so she does just that. she fits in perfectly :) and normally :) yay :)

[giveme-allofthat-ultraviolence]

You literally gave me every reason to cry last night and then you say if I ever need to talk to someone I can go to you???? Like sybau actually everybody pulls this bullshit

[un-pearable]

whoops . i know i’ve gotten sufficiently emotionally attached to a series when just looking it up on the TV is enough for me to get lethally giddy and self conscious

[stonesandswords]

.

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

good lord my brain is running laps and i just wanna knock it out and get some goddamn sleep

[designernishiki]

You asked for a fic rec so I’ll toss this one at ya: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46767358?view_full_work=true Stick through the formatting for the characterization, tone, and really the whole vibe of this fic. I haven’t been able to get the bathroom call between Daigo and Majima out of my head for weeks since I read it with how naturally it all flows. My own little Daigo characterization booklet to review when I feel like I need a refresher on him.

so I may have stayed up until 6am reading this (would’ve slept earlier but I couldn’t stop reading it) and hgggahaghhhhaggahshhhhhhhh that was one of the most well-characterized fics I’ve ever read what the fuck. like the differences in how each character speaks (both tone-wise and in differing levels of authenticity) and how they speak to specific others (the daigo and majima dyanmic specifically- how they actually take into account how long they’ve been working really closely- SO good), the mental anguish and chaos vs the overwhelming emptiness of being daigo dojima but no longer The 6th Chairman Daigo Dojima……….I could keep going but I think you get it.

tbh I’d been wanting to write something exploring a similar set of dynamics/situation (post-kiryu’s fake death, interactions with haruka, daigo, and/or majima specifically, reflecting on his shortcomings while acknowledging the heavy Grief left behind) but now I’m like. well I still could but this was so well written in regards to daigo and haruka that, as far as something between those two goes, I don’t feel the need to.

thanks for the recommendation! my brain is broken now (affectionate)