#and attempting to capture those feelings in my own way

[always-just-red]

A/N: So I threatened a while back to write MC arresting Sylus since he literally won’t shut up about it. Thought this would be a silly fic but it ended up an angst-driven exploration of how his time with MC is probably finite and ill-fated?? Anyway Sylus is too soft for this, I’m sorryyyy (Sy I love you! I would never do this to you! ‘Didn’t it come from your imagination, though?’ Ssshhhh you don’t know what you’re saying!! 🥰)

To Remain Silent

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus has told you to arrest him one too many times...

Genre: Emotional rollercoaster honestly? Some angst, some comfort (and a lil spice for flavour)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, vaguely established relationship, gets a little steamy at the end (mostly kissing tbh), artistic licence applied liberally since this would be WAY too risky for MC to actually attempt 😭😭

| Word count: 2.7k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus knows this isn’t real.

You watch him through the glass of his cell, and the subtle tint to it lets you know that he can’t watch you back. He’s sat on the single bench inside, leaning against the far wall, his long legs stretched out before him. His hands are cuffed— tucked away behind his back— but he still looks comfortable. More than comfortable: at ease. At home. Bored.

“You think I can’t feel those pretty little eyes of yours on me?” he mutters, head back, eyes closed. “I’m at your mercy, kitten. Are you really only going to look?”

You tap a button on the glass. “You should start taking this seriously.”

He smiles at the sound of your voice, but his eyes don’t open; there’s still nothing to see. “I’m taking it very seriously, sweetie.”

“I don’t think you are.”

The smile turns even more smug: a confession, all by itself. He sits up and leans forward, like someone who’s found a change of conversation to be interesting. His eyes open— managing to find you, somehow, and— can he see you? No. It’s an educated guess, he’s just selling it with confidence.

Leisurely, he rises from his seat and saunters over to the glass. “Let me see you,” he orders, then bargains: “Please? This is so very—” he toes the division— “one-sided.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, can you? This is hard enough without the windows to your soul baring your heart and your mind to him, like they always do. You should have worn those sunglasses he bought you for that undercover assignment. This is what they’re for, right? Hiding.

With a circular swipe of your finger, the glass before you clears and Sylus meets your gaze.

“Hi,” he teases.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Hey.”

“This is quite some effort you’ve gone to, kitten. And all for me, no less.”

“What effort?” you dismiss plainly. “You practically slapped those handcuffs on yourself.”

It’s not an exaggeration: from the cuffs to the ride here, not a single stage of his arrest has been resisted. The closest he’s gotten to a lack of cooperation was when you’d first restrained and dragged him from his study, where he’d been inclined to point out that the bedroom was the other way.

“Well, I didn’t want to cause a fuss,” he smirks. One of his hands is brought forward, and his handcuffs now hang uselessly from a finger. “Tell me,” he says, letting them swing as he holds your gaze, “what am I to expect now I’ve been so masterfully captured?”

You glance at the restraints, unmoved. “That isn’t for me to decide.”

A door behind you slides open, and— right on time— an altogether more impressive presence joins you before the cell. Sylus glances her up and down as the click of her heeled boots come to a stop; he has never met your captain, but he knows her face.

“You really cashed in all your favours, didn’t you, sweetie?” he observes. He turns to address the woman beside you: “We haven’t been introduced. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jenna interrupts, her tone as incorruptible as yours.

Sylus’s arm lifts, resting on the glass above you so he can tower over you, despite the partition. “Is that right?” he purrs absent-mindedly, dropping his head so he can speak into your ear. “Sweetie… I thought you could keep a secret.”

He’s goading you into your usual game, but the stakes don’t interest you. “You were wrong.”

You’re at your own table, dealing your own cards. Does he want to play? You think he might. His lips are curving at the delicious prospect of a challenge. You’ve given him a taste of it. He wants more.

Jenna is studying her clipboard, acting oblivious. She senses the impasse. Asks Sylus: “Do you know why you’re here?”

He huffs impatiently. “Enlighten me.”

“Sylus,” you scold.

Red eyes widen a fraction.

You see it.

Good.

…

Sylus thinks this might be real.

You said his name. His real name: the one with sharp, bloody strings attached. The one on all the posters. The one in your precious Association’s archives, linked to stacks of files and crime scene photos, most of which he isn’t even responsible for.

Sylus. You said: Sylus. 

It was worthy of a grand reveal— the sort of plot twist that delivered the suspense of so many thrillers— but here you are, speaking it like it’s nothing. Not a slip of the tongue; not a mistake. And it’s different here. He’s not your Sylus. He’s theirs.

Their murderer. Their monster. Their convenient little scapegoat for everything dark and unholy.

The captain is reading him a list, reeling off every crime— each alleged sin. As if he needs a reminder. As if all the time in the world could ever let him forget. “Needless to say, Mr Sylus,” she summarises, “due to the nature of these crimes, you may prove exempt from our standard procedures. A case like this is… unprecedented. Onychinus has much to answer for. You have much to answer for.”

Sylus hasn’t really been listening; it’s all senseless bureaucracy. “You have the wrong man,” he says, because whatever you’re doing— whatever stunt this is— a confession is sure to derail it. You know that, don’t you? You must be counting on it: holding that guilty breath of yours and hoping he’s smart enough to not be Sylus.

You don’t look worried in the slightest. You must have an awful lot of faith in him.

He studies you, waiting for a small, deliberate smile or a moment of weakness. Give him a sign, don’t give him a sign— it doesn’t matter; he’ll find one. His intentions must be clearer than yours, because you step up to the glass to face him.

Do it, your silence says, even though the rest of you is illegible. You want to look? Look.

His eye could light like a crimson fire— could burn the truth out of you— but it won’t. It’s a promise he made what feels like a lifetime ago, not long after you’d met: Your thoughts and desires are yours to give, not his to take.

Even here. Even now. He’s a man of his word, after all.

Impressed? You smile faintly, but there’s no warmth to it. “Captain,” you speak, your eyes not leaving his, “can you give us a minute? Please?”

“Of course,” the woman answers with a nod.

Sylus does not see her go. He hears it: the retreating rhythm of her shoes. He feels it: it’s just the two of you, alone again. Well, the two of you and that ‘hidden’ camera in the far corner of the room. “Whatever game this is,” he grins good-naturedly, his teeth gritted, “it stops. Now.”

“It’s not a game, Sylus. I told you to take this seriously.”

“What are you doing?” he snaps, and that good-natured grin didn’t last very long. 

Your hands land on your hips. “My job.” When he scoffs, you continue: “Did you really think this would end any other way? After everything you’ve done?”

He laughs and it’s deeply sardonic. He’s no saint— to try to convince you he was would be a crime worthy of punishments far worse than this. But you know him. You know the line and what stands on each side of it: everything he’s done, yes, and everything he’s been made to take the fall for.

You wouldn’t do this to him. Would you? “You want to play pretend? Fine,” he hisses. He wants to wrap his Evol around that godforsaken camera and annihilate it. “You caught the big, bad boss of Onychinus— congratulations, sweetie. Sure. Let’s say that’s who I am. A man like that has power, right? So what’s to keep him— me— from escaping? Right now?”

“You’re not going to leave, Sylus. Wanna know why?”

He’s sure you’re going to tell him, and you do:

“Because you’re all talk. All smoke and mirrors. You want to go? Go. But there’s not a single person in this building who wouldn’t give their life to bring you back. Someone will catch up to you eventually, and what then?”

“I’ll have a lot of fun, I imagine.”

“You’ll do nothing,” you correct. “Because those people out there? They’re my friends. My family. You hurt them? You hurt me. Make all the threats you want, Sylus— we both know the truth.”

He towers over you, still, but it’s hard not to shrink at your next words:

“You don’t have it in you.”

Your eyes are sharp: whetted with resentment. Sylus is your reflection— your worthy opponent, always— but he just can’t look at you like that.

There’s a quiet hiss as you slide a finger over the cell’s control panel. White, neon light carves through the glass partition: two vertical lines that bleed upwards, either side of him, before bending to meet each-other. The glass between them shimmers, then fades.

Sylus stands on the precipice of the doorway, cool air crawling past him. He stares up at the camera, then down at you. Your arms have folded again as you watch him— a narrative of apathy.

“How about it, Sylus?” you ask bitterly. “Still think you can outrun fate?”

“No.” Not since it started wearing your face. Fate is you, putting a bullet in his heart, and him, waking up so you can do it over and over again. Maybe this is real. Maybe it isn’t. “What do you want from me?” he entreats softly, because you’ll get it— either way.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you sneer, and your hand shoots out, grasping a fistful of his shirt. You use it to drag him out of the cell, closer, lower, so that his face is mere inches from yours.

“No,” he repeats. “Say it.”

Your eyes burn like pyres: so dangerous, so beautiful, so suited to being the death of him. “I want you—” you begin, as they flit briefly to his lips— “to tell me…”

“What?”

“How you cheat at kitty cards.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?

Sure enough, you drop his shirt and burst into laughter— irrepressibly you again. The fire in your eyes has simmered down into something warm, safe, and comfortable, and— gods— you’re even crying. You’re doubled over, holding your stomach as though it hurts. You lift a hand to wipe your wet cheek. “Your face,” you get out between gasps, “oh, your face!”

Yours is not the only laughter, but it’s the only laughter Sylus hears.

“We so got you, Skye!” Tara’s vaguely familiar voice resounds from an intercom.

There’s some confusing static with it— more tittering voices— and Sylus suspects he’s found himself the star of your colleagues’ after-work entertainment. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks up at the camera. “Is the whole office—”

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping away another tear. “Figured it would be good for morale. Good practice, too.”

“Practice?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm with a hum. You’ve apparently gotten a handle on the hilarity of the situation, because you approach him with something close to composure. Meditatively, you smooth down the fabric of his shirt. Straighten his collar. “For when we catch the real Sylus one day.”

He captures your wrists; that’s a lot of tenderness for someone who just tried to give him a heart attack. Maybe he’s a little too rough, because you pout at him in a way that makes him instantly soften his grip.

“You ok, Skye?” you enquire with an ironic smile and an adorable tilt of your head.

His thumbs are feathering over your pulse points, and slowly, he leans in to deliver a message, just for you: “If I say no, will you make it up to me?”

…

Sylus knows this is real.

His mouth is on yours and it’s relentless, desperate; you made him wait for it. How long has he been wanting to trap you against the nearest wall, just like this, so he can kiss you until he forgets just how cold you can be? 

He’s been very patient. He didn’t roll his eyes or utter a word of complaint when you’d dragged him to join your colleagues for dinner. It was your victory party, your ‘I made you look like an idiot’ party, but he was his usual, charming self, and your friends all adored him for it. They’d spun him the tale of his ‘arrest’— the planning, the preparation, and your lightbulb moment: 

“Hey, guys, have you ever thought about how Skye kinda looks like Sylus?”

Only he could understand how wickedly clever it was. His eyes had sought yours as he listened, lazy, content, and so obviously biding his time. You’d smiled at him. He’d smiled back. 

And he’d stayed smiling, even after the party was over and you’d had to walk a slightly-tipsy Tara home. She’d refused a taxi, insisted Sylus escort her— oh, and you could come, too! He’d lent her his arm: humoured every squeeze and chuckled at each remark about the size of it. You’d had to swat her away, in the end.

“I’m just teasing, y’know?” she’d giggled as the three of you arrived at her front door. “Skye knows I’m just teasing. You’re such a sweetheart, Skye. Imagine! You— the leader of Onychinus!”

She’d laughed, much too loud for such a quiet street, and with a less-than-subtle wink, left the two of you alone. Which is how you’d ended up here, in an alley around the back of her building, because it was Sylus’s turn to drag you somewhere. 

His attentions have moved lower; there’s a subtle clink as his fingers find the clasp of your shirt collar and he peels it back, exposing your neck. His lips leave yours, trailing down, down— past the line of your jaw and over the soft, vulnerable column of your throat. You gasp as he brushes over a sensitive spot, and you could swear you feel him smile.

He’s always been passionate, but this is a different fire, fuelled by something you can’t ignore, no matter how much you want to:

Relief. 

“Sy,” you murmur breathlessly, your hand in his hair, tugging gently. “Sy, stop.” 

“Mmm?” he acquiesces, voice sinfully low as the cold evening air takes his place kissing your neck. His eyes shine like blood spilt in the dead of night— lingering on you. He looks drunk.

You lift a hand to cup his face and run your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Sylus. You know that, right?”

Those dark eyes find clarity with your words, full of apprehension for just how naive you can be. The future will turn on you just as quickly as a wild animal someone boasts about having tamed, and aren’t you foolish, thinking you can control something like that? 

Besides, that’s his job.

“I know,” he says like he’s supposed to— ever the martyr, following the script. He goes to nuzzle into you again, but your hand is still tight in his hair and he groans as you use it to pull him back. 

“I mean it,” you reassert, forcing him to look at you. You don’t care that it’s ridiculous. You don’t care that fate is so hot on your heels that you have to keep running. You’re tired. He’s even more tired.

Isn’t it nice to stop and catch your breath?

Pretend you have time: His gaze is full of faith and oh, the world is going to enjoy punishing the two of you. “I know,” he insists, because this is the second time you’ve fooled him tonight. You feel his hand on your face and you let him kiss you— again, then again— so achingly slow, so arrogant. 

The world can wait; he wants to punish you first. 

“Do you really want to know—” he distracts as he finds that sensitive spot on your neck again— “how I cheat at kitty cards?”

The pad of his finger is chasing the path of his mouth; it tickles. You whine: “Tell me later, Sy.”

“Ok,” he breathes against you.

Later. There’ll be a later.

Won’t there?

[dreamydelite]

wishing you were here

inspired by canonkiller

[heegyukeluv]

the devil wears prada (sjy)

pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: As Sim Jaeyun stepped out of Prada’s after party, everyone ignored his goodbyes to the sea of paparazzis, because the buzz was about the lucky person who got to disheveled his hair. Jake’s honest answer for that was: the devil. And she for sure wears Prada.

my's note: i love how everyone saw Jake’s after-party photos and thought the same thing (i'm everyone). disheveled hair jake after-party prada that’s all. and i just realized i don’t know how to write a quickie lol enjoy <3 (please take into consideration this is a work of fiction, this doesn't represents the artist's image)

warnings: SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, quickie but not really, public (?) bathroom sex, mirror sex, reader is quite dom with jake (i can't help myself), mention of alcohol. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 5.4k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

The air was thick with the scent of luxury – champagne and expensive perfumes mingling with the buzz of the conversations in every corner of the room.

You had your back leaning against the marble counter of the bar, fingers nonchalantly tracing the edge of your vibrant drink and eyes drifting through the sea of people. Everyone was dressed to impress, each guest showcasing their creativity through Prada’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

Working in the fashion industry came with perks, and being invited to exclusive after-parties was undoubtedly the best one. So you weren’t a stranger to this world. The glamourist atmosphere, the music playing as a soft background, the dim lights casting a perfect blend of elegance and casualness over the place.

It made your body shiver with joy, fulfillment at its most filling your chest, as the surroundings seemed to confirm what you already knew: you were in the right place – your place.

Earlier, at the main event, you watched the showcase with sparkling eyes, recording specific moments to use later as inspiration for your own creativity process. You loved how free you could be with your ideas while doing your work, not to mention the possibility of adding tons of yourself to it. Some might call it an egoistic behavior, as if your job existed solely for your own satisfaction. But the creation was yours, so why shouldn’t the outcome be about you too?

You took another sip of your drink, your sharp gaze scanning the room.

As soon as you stepped at the after-party, many other designers and some artists approached to compliment both your visual and your work, and you confidently talked with them. Yet, coming not from one, but from a few of them, there was an underlying tone; their praises were not solely aimed at your outfit or your impeccable creations, but rather an attempt to carve a path to your heart – or, perhaps, under your dress.

You never denied you had a good appearance. Together with your sense of style and your fearless demeanor, you enchanted anyone who crossed your way. The badass woman aura you exhaled was almost palpable and extremely hot for those who watched – with heart and lustful eyes – as you passed by.

Despite the usual lingering intense gazes on you, far from feeling intimidated or even shy by them, there was one pair of eyes burning deeper, piquing your curiosity as you kept on searching for its owner. 

It was like you every motion was being captured by them, following you across the room, and no matter how many conversations you effortlessly maneuvered through, all you could feel was the constant, intense weight of the said gaze.

After one more drink and some uninterested noddings at the guy who took place near you at the bar, you finally found him.

Sitting on the middle sofas of the main room, drink in hand, together with his group, devil eyes staring at you shamelessly, biting his lip and looking extremely hot as doing so.

You quirked an eyebrow in his direction, not even bothering to follow the bla-bla-bla coming from the random guy anymore, his words sounding like nothing to you at that point.

Especially because the attractive man looking at you didn’t even flinch after getting caught, as if it was the purpose from the beginning. If anything, he deepened eye contact in a daring, cocky manner, almost challenging you to react over the tension that started to hang in the air between you two.

Unlucky to him, you weren’t the type to follow anyone’s lead but yours, so you simply let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you deliberately took another sip of your drink without breaking the new unspoken game – the one you were sure you would win.

You observed closely how he drifted his gaze away from yours just to blatantly check you out, stopping on your bare thighs for a moment before doing the same on your exposed chest, the neckline of your dress giving the perfect bait for men like him.

He shifted on his seat, gulping and then assaulting his lower lip with his teeth once more, as if trying to contain himself from running all the way to you, just to undress you properly instead of keep on doing that with his glare. 

You would be lying if you said that his demeanor wasn’t helping to ignite the fire from your core to your entire body, skin heating with a hint of desire. Even so, you waited patiently.

The random designer talking to you was long gone already, though you barely noticed, unnecessarily engrossed in your little game.

With a subtle, innocent tilt of your chin, you motioned your head slowly as a signal, beckoning him to come closer, without breaking eye contact. The simple gesture caught him off guard; his confident atmosphere stumbling to keep itself up, eyes growing wide in surprise, and you found it irresistibly adorable.

The corner of your lips curled when he stood up after whispering something to one of his friends, who quickly glanced at you and then showed a small smile. You finished your drink as he made his way over, his steps relaxed, but his eyes avoiding yours. You almost chuckled at the endearing scene.

As he approached, you noticed how young he seemed to be, perhaps even younger than you. Not to mention his incredible inebriating fragrance and self beauty – the plump pink lips and the high bridge nose perfectly sculpted doing things to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes straightaway dropping to your exposed neckline, lingering on the curve of your chest.

You leaned in just slightly, making sure he got a better view, batting your lashes with a sly smile. “Hey.”

Without asking for your preference, he ordered two drinks. You decided to let it slide for now – being surprised could be fun every now and then, and maybe accepting his drinks could be one of the keys to get something more.

“You’ve been turning heads all night.” He finally said after a while, the hot, aussie accent didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your body heat increased as an immediate response. 

As you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile play on your lips, you smoothly replied with faux innocence. “Have I?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, thanking the bartender for the drink as he handed you one, oblivious of the rhetorical question. Your smile widened. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/N,” you politically extended your hand, eyes sharp on his face. His grip was hesitant, and the moment your fingers touched, an unexpected jolt of electricity shot through your body. You suppressed a slight shiver.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, caring little to nothing about showing how affected he got just by feeling your soft palm on his.

His breath hitched, getting caught on his throat as his eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but think about how your touch would feel elsewhere on his body.

The excitement flooded your chest instantly, you had to hold back yourself because you realized that if you wanted – and you so did – those perfect lips would be attached to yours in no time, and if you were lucky enough, they would be exploring other parts of your body as well.

“Nice meeting you, Jake.” You murmured, pronouncing his name with your most velvety voice, slowly pulling your hand away to grab your drink from the counter, sipping it.

Jake tracked your deliberate movements, wetting his slightly parted lips when he saw your red lipstick staining on the glass edge, utterly in disbelief he simply discovered someone who definitely came out from his wettest dreams, who would turn the smallest, innocent gesture into something sensual.

Even the simple act of blinking in his direction seemed meticulously calculated to make it hard to resist your advances, fueling the growing tightness inside his pants.

Not to mention how sexy his name rolled out of your beautifully tinted lips. 

Jake leaned his arms on the marble counter, turning his head to keep on watching you, as if your presence were an alluring, tempting show, happening right in front of his eyes just to damage his weak heart.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He blurted out shamelessly, shattering the ‘cool’ facade he was trying to maintain under your intense gaze.

There was something about how sincere, seductive, and yet, desperate he sounded, as if his greatest longing in life was to have you right away. You were enjoying that guy so much so far. 

“I’ve noticed,” you chuckled with your eyes brimming with flirtation, shifting between his plush, kissable lips and his desire-filled orbs. “And are you planning to keep just looking?”

Jake blinked, momentarily taken aback with your quick and direct response. Although you had an obvious confident aura radiating through your pores, he definitely didn't expect you to be so straight to the point, thinking he would have to ease things a bit more.

And honestly? He found your vibe more exciting than he would like to admit. 

“I guess that depends on what you want,” he answered, voice dropping a tone, trying to match the energy you exuded.

Ignoring the chills running through your spine by his low murmur, you softly chuckled and leaned back against the bar, gaze still locked with his.

“Oh, Jake,” you teasingly cooed, grinning, with your voice dripping with amusement, “I always get what I want.”

It was visibly apparent how your words ignited something on his body, perking up in anticipation while his eyes deepened and his jaw clenched; if you looked close enough, you would see the slight bulge in his crotch area. 

Jake straightened his posture, finishing his drink in one go without breaking eye contact, hooded eyelids offering you the most magnetic sight you saw that night until that moment.

Then he leaned in closer, the tension between you two increasing with every heartbeat. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he whispered in your ear, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face.

As he walked towards the restroom area, his confident stride only added to the thrill. Men would be promising you the best night of your life just to leave you hanging and dealing with your situation alone. However, Jake seemed to exude an air of boldness blended perfectly with devotion, making a rush of anticipation bubbling in your core.

You let out a small laugh, not even caring about finishing your drink. The thrilling game had just started and you were so ready to play.

Jake’s lips tasted like heaven. And fancy liquor.

His hands were everywhere, but mainly on your ass and neck, his desperation evident by the way he pressed your back into the cold wall, sucking your lips as if his life depended on it.  

After following his traces, feigning indifference as best as you could to the open public, it took mere seconds before you felt his strong grasp on your hips guiding you into the bathroom – fortunately, they had private, separated spaces, making it easier for the two of you to steal as much privacy as the party allowed.

You could hear the muffled hum of the songs playing as a background, merging with the lewd sounds from the messy, hungry kiss you both shared and the soft groans rumbling from Jake’s throat as well.

Just minutes ago your plans were completely different; just some kisses and calling it a night, definitely not imagining things going further than that. However, the way Jake’s mouth skilfully moved against yours made you wonder how good it would feel in other places of your body, like in between your legs, and you just had to give it a chance.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, barely breaking the contact, lips already swollen and reddened due to your lipstick and your not so gentle bites. 

You hummed in response, unable to form proper words about how amazing of a job he was doing just by kissing you. 

Your fingers tangled in his silky brown hair, tugging without restraint because you quickly realized how much Jake liked it. He moaned, lips parting against yours with the intensity of the pull, your hazed gaze catching a quick glimpse of his eyes rolling back – an extremely devilish view.

Although stumbling a bit, Jake managed to easily place you at the edge of the sink’s counter by lifting you firmly gripping your thighs, the feeling alone making you wince as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support.

The room seemed to shrink as your breaths quickened, the boiling sensation bubbling in your stomach as you anticipated for more of his intense, heated, passionate touches. 

Jake, just as breathless, decided to assault the flesh of your neck and exposed collarbone, getting drunk on your scent and softness as he did so, loving how you tilted your head just enough to give him some more access to explore.

A soft moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened on his hair when he nibbled your sensitive spot, close to your earlobe, sending jolts of electricity directly to your pussy.

You could feel a smirk creeping into his mouth, right before he questioned teasingly, slowly sucking the area. “Do you like that?”

You fought to keep your composure, a soft smile threatening to break through as the heat blossomed in your core. His breath tickled your skin, deliberately waiting for your answer while igniting every inch of you by keeping on playing on that spot. 

The first reaction you gave was another moan together with your nails digging on his shoulders and scratching his scalp. Then you admitted, still struggling to hold yourself back. “Fuck, yes. I do.” 

Jake cooed at you, gently pulling away from the curve of your neck to study your dazed expression; lips agape releasing heavy breaths, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink and eyes half-lidded, fluttering slowly, still dripping in the same confidence you once carried, as if even under his lead you were the one commanding.

“You look hot and messy, and I haven’t even started yet.” Jake teased, a playful smile gracing his lips as he pressed them against yours again.

“Do you always talk that much?” You murmured, not quite intending to judge his demeanor, but a bit annoyed and amused by how he appeared to need to hear you frequently while savoring you. 

“Only when I'm nervous.” Jake answered honestly with an awkward chuckle, helping you to remove his jacket, which landed straight on the ground and he couldn’t care less.  

“Oh, do I make you nervous Jakey?” You smirked, thirsting over his now exposed veiny arms. 

Watching Jake’s cheeks being painted with a faint blush while he swallowed hard under your sharp gaze, clearly getting flustered, brought back the control you thought was lost. 

“Maybe a little,” Jake tried to play it cool, but his voice came out smaller than he expected, and he tried to avoid facing you by leaning to kiss you again.

A glint of mischief sparkled in your eyes when you noticed he was losing his composure. You kindly held his head still, forcing him to keep his gaze on you. “Aw, come on, Jakey. Don’t shy away now,” you said, a smooth voice layered with playfulness and a sultry, almost mocking undertone. “You haven’t even started yet, isn’t that right?” 

Jake nearly moaned when he heard your words, not because of them itself but by how hot you sounded. His cock throbbed painfully inside his pants, his underwear probably stained with his leaking precum at that point. 

Jake got fooled at some moment by thinking he was the one in charge, even provoking you while exploring your desires initially, but the reality was that he had been following your lead like a lost puppy all along. 

There was something about how confident and dominant you seemed to be since the beginning, not faltering a single moment to his boldness, and somehow you carried that still, assuming the control gracefully, as if it was your job. And Jake was very grateful for you doing so.

His eyes softened and his breath hitched. 

“Tell me, what do you want from me?” The question slipped from his plush, beautiful lips, laced with desire and a touch of vulnerability without much cohesive thinking, clouded mind craving to satisfy you, because that meant his own fulfillment. “I wanna give you everything.”

Devoting to a devilish goddess like you was a tempting surrender he was eager to embrace.

You felt a pulse straight in your clit and your cheeks heating, the weight of his desperate words triggering your following behavior.

Jake saw the way your face brightened up, realizing he had opened the hell’s gate and he was eager to enter – if you were the personification of the devil, he was more than willing to drown into your lustful, tempting sea of sins. 

“What do I want from you?” You echoed, an amused grin curling the corner of your lips as your eyes traced Jake’s attractive features, pausing on his perfectly sculpted high-bridged nose, accompanied just below by his tasteful lips. You smiled, caressing it with your thumb. “I want them. Eat me out.” 

Jake’s breath got caught on his throat and his eyes grew in a slight surprise, not only due to your bold, straightforward request, but mainly because the idea of having your pussy in full display for him to play sounded too dreamy.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low, contained voice, struggling to keep down his excitement, biting his lower lip, aiming to confirm he wasn’t going insane.

“I know what I want, Jake.” You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow. “And you?”

Jake’s eyes immediately dropped to your chest and then your bare thighs. The dress had ridden up due to the position so he was able to see a hint of your laced, black panties. He wet his lips, mouth watering while he lowered enough to bend comfortably and be eye level with your cunt.

You watched, fascinated by how in trance he seemed to be, as though your final word was the cue for him to dive into you completely. 

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as you propped yourself up to help Jake slide your panties down your legs, gentle hands caressing your smooth skin as he did so. Then he grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, shooting you a quick glance and smile before burying his face between your legs, the smell of your pussy intoxicating his senses. 

He first gave it a small, slow kitty-lick, testing the waters, then frowned in pleasure, groaning with your delicious taste dissolving on his tongue.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips and you quickly pursed them to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, fighting the urge of allowing yourself to let go so easily. One of your hands searched for support on the edge of the counter and the other held on tight to Jake’s hair.

Jake gave a long, savoring lick, finishing with a delectable, lewd sucking noise in your clit, as if he was starting to make out with your pussy. Your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs feeling like jelly as a wave of weakness coursed through you.

His hot muscle started to work faster, steadier and precise in between your folds, your entrance and your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving each of them the right amount of attention.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you moaned shakily, unable to keep it low. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you threw your head back, unconsciously waving your body towards his face, practically griding on it.

Jake moaned with your praise, skilfully shaking his head whenever he flickered his tongue in your hole, just to rub your clit with his nose, before moving back to suck on it, entirely immersed on his duty to please you.

He was on cloud nine. 

Your taste flooding his senses, your body reacting to his stimulus, heating up and shivering under his precise touch, your pretty moans filling up the space straight into his ears, like angels singing – though he was sure you were a devil in disguise. 

Every noise coming from your throat was sending a rush of electricity directly into his dick, not to mention how your cunt became wetter and wetter with the lewd mixture of his own saliva and your arousal. Jake could die that moment and would be happy with it.

Reading the way your breathing grew heavy and feeling how you clenched around the tip of his tongue, Jake deduced you were near to the edge.

“I’m close–” You whispered, confirming his theory.

The knot on your stomach tightened when Jake began to focus mainly on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, eager for your release – perhaps more than you. “I’m really close, Jak–”

Your arms nearly failed to keep yourself up as your orgasm hit, a long moan falling from your mouth interrupting your warning, your spine arching with the euphoria wave and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your juices coated Jake’s tongue, who took all of it proudly; you hissed feeling his mouth still working on your sensitive cunt, and you pulled him away by his hair.

Without a word Jake brought his lips to yours, making you taste yourself still hazy minded after your strucking climax. You groaned, slowly starting to move your hips to get down from the counter, Jake unconsciously helping you through it by supporting your weight until your heels landed on the floor. 

You lightly pushed Jake’s chest to move him away, meeting his dazed expression, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins. You grabbed the hem of his black shirt, quietly asking for him to remove it. And he did without hesitation.

"Fuck me," you demanded, taking a glimpse of his beautiful toned abs, a bit out of breath and even needier now. "Fuck me and watch you doing it through this mirror."

Jake flashed a quick grin, still recovering from the smothering and delightful feeling of being in between your legs, before fumbling with his belt, hands frantic undoing the button of his pants to slide them down.

You took your sweet time to thirst over the outline of his covered, extremely hard length, interrupting his actions by gripping his wrist, savoring the moment as you licked your lips, mouth watering.

“It’s a shame we cannot take much longer,” you started, fauxing innocence as you stepped closer just enough to touch him over his white boxers. A small, provocative chuckle coming from your throat before you murmured. “Really wanted to feel you in my mouth.” And then you kissed the corner of his parted lips.

Jake whimpered when you softly squeezed his neglected dick, leaning closer to you instinctively, holding onto the edge of the counter behind you while resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder. His breath was heavy against your skin, where he pressed his lips a few times until reaching your earlobe, nibbling. 

Your sneaky hands entered the hem of his clothing piece to jerk him off; your teasing, deliberate moves were driving him insane. The way your warm palm rubbed his sensitive tip made his groans increase just as much as his pulse, and he moaned a bit louder when you finally freed his aching dick out of his boxers by pushing them down, allowing your hand to pump his shaft easier. 

With closed eyes, you enjoyed the waves of pleasure going down, directly to your cunt, making you wet again by hearing Jake’s sultry noises and hot breath brushing against your ear.

Your lips grazed along his jawline at the same time you threatened your fingers through his slightly dampened hair, disheveling it even more before pulling it away from the curve of your neck, so you could capture his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

"Condom?" You asked under breath after parting away from his mouth, slowing your hand on his dick. You noticed his body tensing right after your question, eyes growing wide in panic, which piqued your curiosity.

There’s no way he…

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

You let out a soft scoff, part laughter, part disbelief. Without missing a beat, your hands resumed their movement, this time teasing him by randomly stopping, repeating the motion a few times. His moans grew louder, hips bucking desperately against your hand as if seeking more, his mouth agape and eyes glistening with despair.

"What a naughty boy," you cooed, slowly shaking your head in a false disappointment. "Were you planning on going raw with me, Jakey?" You questioned, voice low, layered with playfulness. 

Jake winced, desperation growing inside his chest, fearing you to leave him now, when he needed you the most.

"N-No..." He shook his head, “I wasn’t– I forgot, I’m sorr–” 

"Unluckily we just met.” You interrupted. “I don't know you well enough to let you do that. Right?" 

Jake nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was truly following your words. You were loving to see him falling apart so easily, almost begging for you not to leave him through his messy moans. 

His breath hitched and he almost grabbed your hand in place when you let go from his hard, red and needy cock. "P–please…" He finally pleaded, holding your waist as his eyes searched for yours in complete despair.

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking at his endearing demeanor. "Aw, you really wanna fuck me, don't you?" You caressed his cheek with your clean hand, smiling.

“I really do,” Jake whispered, moving his head just enough to kiss your palm. “Please, let me–”

“Not without protection, Jakey,” you said firmly, although with a hint of teasing, because you had a way out of that situation without harming your health.

And the said solution was inside your purse, which got tossed on the ground at some point of your initial make out session with Jake. 

Jake's puppy sad eyes followed your every motion when you moved his hands off of your waist, thinking he had messed up completely. But then he saw you grabbing your bag and taking a condom off of it, showing to him with a playful grin.

"And lucky to us, I'm always prepared, Jakey.”

You slowly approached him again, his gaze catching the alluring sight of you gently opening the packaging using your teeth, while your eyes confidently remained locked onto his, loving to see his bewildered expression.

Without a word, you slid the condom on his length, stroking it a few times before turning your back to him, bending over the counter and lifting your dress, revealing the beautiful view of your bare ass.

Jake’s firm hands instinctively gripped your hips and he positioned himself behind you while biting his lip in anticipation, the thrilling excitement boiling stronger in his cock.

He searched for your eyes in the mirror in front of you two, and of course you were already looking at him through your hungry orbs, savoring the image of Jake’s craving your body.

"Now fuck me as desperate as you seem to be."

Your words hung in the air for seconds before Jake’s mind snapped away from your tempting view in the mirror; your boobs nearly jumping out of your neckline, lips swollen but carrying the same confidence, and your eyes. Your fucking eyes. Your devilish eyes. 

“Your desire is my pleasure, Y/N.” It was all Jake managed to say with his low, husky voice, before pushing deep into you.

Your mouth fell open with the breathtaking sensation of being filled up, and Jake began to slowly pump into you, giving you a little time to adjust. Or you thought so.

You still had no idea that he was already stepping near the edge of his own release, that being the reason for his deliberate hip rolls – there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity of enjoying your delicious squeezes around his dick slip away that easily.

“F–fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered. “You f–feel amazing...”

You looked at Jake in the mirror after hearing how weakly his words came out, as if he were already lost in a haze of his own pleasure. And he truly was. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight of his head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted, a faint smile gracing his lips.

When a specific deep thrust hit your g-spot, you almost cried out and Jake quickly paid attention to it. Then he bent you even more on the marble counter with one hand forcing your back, to ease his access to your sensitive area and help with his movements, speeding his hips the right amount to make you roll your eyes.

“T–that’s it...” You moaned. “Fucking me so good.” You praised and Jake groaned, his hands immediately sliding to cup one of your covered breasts, massaging it while keeping his pace, eyes locked at the insanely delightful view in the mirror.

A sequence of moans slipped out of your throat as Jake started fucking you hard and fast, desperately even. How your walls clenched tight around his cock was driving him insane, and he seeked for more of that addicting feeling.

The sound of the distant music did nothing to cover the slams sounds echoing the bathroom at that point, and honestly, neither of you cared anymore, far gone in your own pleasure.

At some point your own body started to encounter his pushes into you, but it wasn’t enough. So you straightened your posture a bit, tugging Jake’s hair while looking at his eyes in the mirror – his fucked up expression sending shivers down your spine. 

“Faster, Jake.” You urged, a bossy tone dripping out of your mouth like a sweet sugar that Jake grew obsessed with. And he instantly obeyed.

Your free hand cupped Jake’s on your boob and your eyes fluttered close while you tilted your head back, lost in the amazing feeling of Jake pounding into your g-spot, a mess of moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. 

Since he had his eyes open, Jake watched your body quivering with his thrusts, the fucking Prada logo on your dress shining with the dim light of the bathroom, your makeup slightly smeared due to the mess. It was completely out of this world how good you looked, and the way you were squeezing his dick together with the view, sent him even closer to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum–” He said in one go, as an eager statement, not a warning, desperate to feel his release. 

Your breath started to quicken with his erratic pace, and you fluttered your eyes open again, catching the sight of Jake’s concentrated frown and mouth agape, letting out the prettiest moans you ever heard.

You said nothing, you just tightly gripped the hand on your chest and leaded it to your clit, inciting him to rub it for you. Jake got your message, and with all the overwhelming stimulus, your second orgasm hit, mouth falling open gasping for air as you supported yourself on the marble counter, your head falling forward while you kept on feeling Jake’s deep thrusts.

You clenched involuntarily around his dick, and that was enough for him to achieve his climax as well, resting his head on your shoulder, holding you close still.

Jake moved back with a hiss, completely dizzy and fulfilled. He removed the condom and tossed it onto the trashcan before dressing himself back again, helping you to recompose since your legs were shaky.

“Thank you,” you said in a hoarse voice when he offered you your purse and your panties, to which you decided not to wear again because, well, it was on the floor.

So you cheekily pushed into Jake’s pocket without saying a word, and he didn’t even noticed, too focused on looking out for you by supporting you to keep steady. 

You turned to the mirror, fixing your messy hair and makeup as best as you could. 

“How do we get out of this bathroom now?” Jake asked after the silence, watching you re-apply your red lipstick. 

You just smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek to purposely leave a mark there. “Like this.” And you simply opened the door, not even caring about the instant stares you received as you did so, Jake following your lead right behind, a small shy smile adorning his lips. 

With a last goodbye look, you parted ways, your confidence evident in your stride, and Jake fumbling to smooth down his disheveled locks, now with the acknowledgment that the devil definitely wears Prada.

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Do Black People Blush?" Bringing brown complexions to life

Inspired by this ask

So, do Black people blush?

We are human beans 🤣! Blood rushes through our veins! This isn't just a nonblack misconception either; I know plenty of Black people who think we don't blush. Stop saying that shit. It's not true! If you thought this at any point, I'm glad you learned, TAKE THIS L IN SILENCE! I am sparing you the indignity of saying this out loud, ever! 🙏🏾

Jokes aside, the actual issue usually lies with the depiction or description. Depending on our skin tone, most of us aren’t going to turn ‘bright pink’ with a blush (if you write that in your y/n or roleplaying fics, that’s an easy way to negate a good amount of your potential Black audience). Think of a cherry coke- how you still see the tint of red in it, but it’s still brown? Like that.

One way to dodge this in writing is to say “flushed”, or “ears/cheeks became hot”. This is describing the physical action of blushing, without having to describe the color of someone’s face. If you’re really nervous about not writing us correctly via blushing… there you go!

Colorism

Okay. So this is something I’ll likely do its own lesson on, because there’s no way I could encapsulate it into one little blurb and I’m not going to try! After asking the internet an admittedly confusing question 😅, one thing I was able to reaffirm is that people have different opinions on what ‘dark’/’darker’ skin tones mean. People recognize that different cultural upbringings and contexts will change what that means! And that’s good- that an important part of the larger conversation!

However, I want everyone to understand that you don’t have to be Black to be dark/’darker’ skinned- you can be Black and very pale! We discussed that in the last lesson! There’s no ‘singular point of brown-ness’ that designates a Black person as ‘Black’- there’s an entire sociological conversation behind that!

My point is, this isn’t a ‘oh Black people OVERALL aren’t depicted blushing properly’- because there are ‘lighter’ skinned Black people that wouldn’t suffer as much from this particular issue.

Blushes and Undertones

Three Links for Tips on Medium to Deep Skintones

Different complexions are going to require different colors, there's not a 'one fits all' option. However! What we want to do for deeper brown complexions is to focus on BOLDER, not lighter! Putting light pink or a white person’s ‘nude’ on our skin will often make us look ashy and undercolored. And we don’t like looking ashy.

"It looks like they're ashy!"

What do we mean when we say this about a piece? Well, worse case scenario, it looks like this:

This was NOT one of KD’s better days, and he was thoroughly mocked for this. He got more than enough money for lotion! Anyway, when we say that your art looks ‘ashy’, it means that it feels like the skin of your Black character is gray, or dead. Like a corpse. We don’t look like that unless things are dire.

In fan and professional art, you can sometimes find people user a grey undertone for deeper shades of brown on Black people: NO! We are NOT grey! We are not pitch! Many skin shades of brown can be found based in the oranges and the reds. Based on lighting and depth of complexion, you might even have to go into the blues and purple to capture the brown you’re seeking.

I’m begging us to stop desaturating the browns we use. We can see the difference. It’s usually one of those ‘White Man Painted Brown’ techniques I discussed before; an attempt to ‘make a character Black’ without really committing to it because the brown skin tone ‘doesn’t look good’ to the artist. Brown is beautiful! Commit to brown! Commit to the full design!

Put in the work to create the brown you need!

While this is a traditional art piece (follow Ellie Mandy Art, a Black creator), I want you to notice how she incorporated many colors to create the deep brown for her piece.

-8:05 for the list of paints

-8:05-17:29 for the process

She used black, yes, but it was nowhere near the base color. She incorporated blues and reds and other browns to capture that depth. It wasn’t ‘toss in a bunch of black or grey to get the brown darker’. (SKIP TO THE END TO SEE HOW GOOD THIS PIECE IS, BTW. I felt like I was in the presence of a master watching her do this, fr. We gotta pay artists more.)

I want to use this model as an example to show that while we might get very dark, we're still not 'pitch black'. You can see the flat of the black of their clothes versus their deep complexion. They're not the same!

Even if your character's complexion is very deep brown into black, you still need to incorporate ‘life’ into them (if that makes sense). And you know what? Even if you want to describe your characters as having ‘black’ skin, that’s fine, but there are still other ways to do it- obsidian, the night sky, velvet. Find a way to romanticize our skin (there’s an entire conversation about how ‘black’ is used in a negative connotation in language and storytelling, and we’re ALSO going to have that conversation later!)

A Real Simple Way (i.e. how I do it)

I tried, but I cannot find my skin tones palette link anymore. I’m sorry! But, it’s been essential to my character design. If you don’t ever buy anything else, I would HIGHLY suggest investing in a skin tones palette for your art program.

Everyone say hello to Philia, my OC! I’m used to drawing her, so I’m going to use her as an example. Now remember, I am still an amateur! But this is how I do it!

Admittedly, I do the one on the left when I'm feeling lazy, but more often I'll take the time to do the one on the right. Now here’s the thing- I’m not actually blending the red into the brown. This is on a whole different layer. What I’m actually doing is adding to and fading the color until it’s at a color that I feel is natural. There's definitely an easier, smarter way to do this, but that’s what I like to do- I like to see the stages slowly until I’m comfortable.

You have to mess around and practice; see what looks good and what doesn't. Go into the reds, the oranges, the pinks and observe how it looks- I may go through multiple before I settle on one. It’s really just a matter of getting used to drawing Black skin tones and how they look in different lighting. This one's not perfect for sure.

Resources

Here are some really good posts and Youtube videos on how both to paint skin, and to add blush tones. And remember, as per my usual, the best way to learn how the draw and paint Black people is to follow and learn from Black artists! Another good idea might be looking into Black makeup and Black SFX makeup artists. As people that work with skin on a regular basis, they would be a good place to study what colors can and should be used on different skin colors as a whole.

ami0amii

Likelihood Art

Tiara Anderson

Proko

Sinix

Ross Draws

In summary, focus on bolder colors, be willing to test until you get what you need, and practice! All you can do to get better is to practice! And as always: it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[bitchesmoonwalkin]

okay attempt two at posting this

ways of making a whumpee scared of non-con without outright nc or threats

carewhumper vibes. the obvious tws apply

manhandling. throw them onto the bed and straddle their hips, keeping their hands pinned on either side of their head. alternatively, bend them over a table or a bed, keeping them there with a hand tangled in their hair or on the back of their neck.

alternatively, keeping them pressed against your chest or guiding them with fingers tangled in their hair or digging into their hip, just slightly under their waistband

classic shows of submission. tie them up and have them kneel - especially if it's between your whumpers spread legs. give their hair a pet every once in a while if they're good.

pet names: baby, pet, pretty boy, pup, princess. etc.

strip them. personally i prefer keeping my whumpees in their underwear and maybe a carewhumpers tshirt, but even so the act of stripping them is a great place for some physical and psychological whump - ESPECIALLY when the whumpee has only just been kidnapped/captured and does not yet know what to expect

have them undress in front of you for the first time before making them bend over the bed. watch their hands shake and their eyes fill with tears, feel them tense underneath you, frozen with fear. and then you simply just handcuff them or even just walk out of the room, leaving them to question when the n/c will start - only it won't. their fear is all you wanted, after all

gruff/significantly larger or older caretaker bathing a younger whumpee who doesn't feel safe around them yet - whumpee flinching away but too weak to fight as they are gently stripped and placed in the bath, being cleaned /everywhere/ in a way that makes them flush with shame even if there's no intention behind the touches

whumpee being gently but firmly forced into a humiliating position, maybe forced to stand still for an /inspection/ filled with clinical yet invasive touches

using objects w sexual connotations (ball gags, blindfolds, certain whips and types of restraints) in non-sexual situations

this works especially well for a newer whumpee - strip them, blindfold and ball gag them before thing them to a mattress, legs spread. then let them wake up on their own, slowly, watch the fear kick in as they come to their own conclusions about what's going to happen to them

some more explicit stuff below the cut

those dildo gags or maybe an anal plug or vibe - just, you know. keep it in

shoving fingers into whumpees mouth until tears come to their eyes

be handsy with them

taking photos of them in intimate or humiliating posistions

whumper jerking off onto whumpees face where they're tied up and kneeling

buying whumpee lingerie - if they wear it, they might get some food or even first aid

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Thigh Riding

He looked up at you, his head resting against the back of the couch. A teasing smirk flitted across his face as he watched you chasing your release. Bucky loved studying your features, staring intently. The way your mouth hung open, your brows practically knitted together from the effort you were putting in and your eyelids fluttering with your attempts to keep them open. Bucky loved that about you. You were always all in, including the short panting breaths that escaped from your swollen lips. Yes, he derived just as much pleasure seeing you come undone as you did experiencing it.

“You're so damn beautiful, Doll.”

You reveled in the way his large calloused hands felt on your hips, the way he held you, and subtly guided your movements as you pushed your uncovered core against his bare thigh. You loved how he bit down on his lip, struggling to contain his own arousal, so desperate to be inside of you.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Bucky moaned as his erection strained against his boxers. Oh, how he longed to press his palm against it, just to relieve some of the tension. No, today he was going to watch, watch you use his body to get yourself off. Then maybe, if you were feeling generous, you'd return the favor. He smiled. You were the most generous person he knew.

“Having fun there, Doll?”

You noticed how mesmerized he was by your peaked nipples, your blossomed breasts swaying up and down before his very eyes. A soft laugh slipped past your lips, his struggle of restraint amusing you as you watched his nostrils flare and his heavy breathing whistling through pursed lips.

“Mind if I have a taste?”

Ultimately, it's too much for Bucky, your beautiful bosom right there on display just for him. How could he not partake? How easy it was for him to lean forward and capture one of those perky beauties between his eager lips. His tongue rolled around your hard nipple with ease. You let him suck it as his hands caressed her twin. Cupping her, pinching her nipple between his vibranium fingers and kneading your flesh. Oh, how he loved the moans you saved, just for him.

“That's my girl, God, you feel so good in my mouth.”

Once you've given him a taste, he can't stop, yearning for more. You let him leave a trail of blazing kisses across your chest, teeth grazing your skin, open lips sucking bruises up towards your neck, marking you as his. You knew how much it turned him on, seeing his marks on your body, his possessiveness taking over. In turn, his covetousness drove you crazy, dialling up your desire to dangerous levels.

“You're mine, Doll. Got that? All mine.”

At this point, his hands are all over you, fingers and palm spread across your back, dragging over your silky skin. He skimmed over your waist only to find purchase on the curve of your ass where his fingertips dug in desperately, helping you along the path to nirvana. Encouraging you with lust dripping from his voice.

“Go on, Doll. You're doing so good. Just a little more."

By now, you're so lost in a haze that your movements are less than smooth, and you thank your lucky stars that Bucky has the sense to assist. Your juices are covering his thigh as you shamelessly drag your clit over his bulging quad. Over and over. You have his undivided focus now, he can tell how close you are to falling off the edge into the carnal abyss. He helped you out as pitiful moans left your lips and tired hips faltered slightly. He squeezed his quads, the muscle hardening under you, pushing against your sensitive little nub. Bucky whispered sweet words of praise and encouragement as you let go and cum on his thigh.

“That's right, Doll, you got this. How do you always look pretty, sweet girl? Keep going, just like that, darling. Only a little more, let it go. That's it, baby, well done.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (nocturnal file) 18+

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: oh, no! What is this? Did I let my imagination get the better of me again? To those of you asking for smut, this is one way we can satisfy those desires. Oh, and no taglist for this file - whoever finds it, finds it. It'll be our (and Ewan's!) little secret.

previous chapter ▪︎ series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Aemond's patience is sorely being tested.

The battle is on the morrow, and the Blackwood bitch refuses to relent useful intelligence on the enemy's doings.

Aemond had captured her as a prize of war, and kept her in the dungeons of the Red Keep. He would visit her every so often, trying to get her to break, to see her relentlessly vexing spirits dimmed.

But to no avail. She is as stubborn as her entire, rotten lot. This bastard daughter of House Blackwood, a formidable swordswoman in her own right, would be someone whom Aemond might admire, if the circumstances were different.

If he did not hate her with every fibre of his being.

It is callous, almost desperate. He did not know of his precise aim when he asked the guards to deposit her in his chambers.

Yet here she is.

Hair matted and skin decorated with grime and mud and dried blood. The blood isn't even hers - she had clawed and fought tooth and nail when Aemond attempted to subdue her. And he did. But it feels as if he had gained nothing out of it.

Only the presence of this rough and foul-mouthed bastard girl, a sorry excuse for a lady.

If only she did not possess a fire that Aemond hadn't seen before in anyone else. If only she wasn't so fucking beautiful.

"Do you plan to question me some more, One-Eye? Or are you finally going to kill me?"

With those words, Aemond realises that he never planned to kill her. Nor does he ever wish to. She is his prize, after all.

And his prize throws him off guard with another query, "Or perhaps... you would do away with all this pretense and fuck me like your whore?"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Aemond lunges forward and grips her jaw. She only smirks, as if enjoying it, "I've seen the way you look at me, One-Eye. You'd sooner bed me than get rid of me, admit it."

He towers over her figure, imposing and formidable, and yet it is she that has the upper hand. He feels unsure for once. Of what is to happen next. Of his own compromised desires.

So she decides for him, when she rises on her tiptoes and presses her warm mouth to his.

It feels wretched. It is revolting, kissing the enemy, and yet Aemond finds himself leaning closer. He drags her to his bed and pushes her down atop the sheets. She flops like a rag doll, groaning in protest, but then spreads her legs wide open, inviting him in.

"Fuck you, bastard," he licks a stripe down her neck, his actions negating his words, "You are nothing to me."

"By all means, One-Eye," she only purrs, "fuck me."

That is all he needs. He rips off all trace of clothing from their wanting bodies. Positioning himself, he torments her with his hardened cock prodding at her wet cunny.

With an animalistic growl of both rage and surrender, he thrusts inside, and she feels him deep in the warmth of her cunt. His balls smack against the skin of her arse, and again when he slides out and back in. All the way in.

"Gods, One-Eye," she traces the scar on his cheekbone with one delicate finger, the motion gentle and almost foreign, "you're not letting me go after this, are you?"

"Never," he rasps, connecting his lips against hers, resuming his thrusting. "Uhhhhh, fuck, fuck," he moans against her parted mouth, his sounds turning into hissing when she resorts to digging her nails into his back as he slams his cock in roughly, right to the hilt.

"What will... become of... me, hmm?" she asks, in between panting. Their bodies grow sweaty, glistening in the candlelight. The lewd sounds of his cock fucking her aching pussy is like music to his ears. He cradles her face with one hand, and responds, "You will be mine. You are mine."

"I can't be, now, can I? You're still in New York," she says.

What did she say? Aemond startles, sitting back on his heels. With his cock still buried inside her, she follows suit so she sits on top of him. He nearly loses his mind when she gazes at him, biting her lip in the most lustful manner.

"I've never ridden a dragon before," she says, slowly gliding her pussy up and down his cock. "You feel so good, baby."

"B-baby?" Aemond does not understand the moniker. Is it customary among the Blackwoods to call a lover such? What a strange thing. And what did she mention before? What of this New Ark?

"I wish you were with me," she moans, bouncing on top of him, pressing her breasts against his face. Milking his cock like her life depends on it, and it just might. This Blackwood bastard would have leverage if she had dragonseed in her belly.

"I am with you," he breathes, before kissing her again, but she quickly pulls away.

"No you aren't, Ewan," she protests. "You're away."

Ewan?

"Ewan!" he hears someone call out. "Ewan, we yelled cut a while ago!"

Aemond - Ewan - blinks against an onslaught of bright light. The set is illuminated once more. He sees you still sitting on top of him, grinning impishly. But you're not fully naked as he thought - you wear pasties on your breasts in the same shade of your skin, as well as matching underwear. He looks down at this cock, and sees it covered in some fitted piece of cloth.

"Where are we, Blackwood?"

You only giggle lightly at his confusion, "Ewan, baby, are you still in character?"

"My... my name is Aemond."

"Oh, baby," you press your forehead to his, "of course it is. My Aemond."

"That was beautiful, you two," a woman approaches them, "All in all, a perfect take."

He hears himself speak, but he doesn't fully understand what he means, "It's easy because we are in love in real life, I suppose."

The Blackwood girl - you - shuffle over to the edge of the bed, and a woman comes forward and uses some brush on your face.

This is not the Red Keep. He is not Aemond?

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to knock some sense into himself. When he opens them again, he finds himself transported in what looks like your hotel room in LA.

"Ewan," he hears you whisper. He looks down and the both of you are naked under the sheets, cuddling each other. He feels lighter now, more content. The sensation that he no longer possesses his long, silver hair washes over him.

Because he is Ewan, his identity sliding back into place like a puzzle piece.

And you're his love.

You place a kiss on his chest, then the crook of his neck, and finally, his lips.

"I want you," your words come so sweetly, so faint, and yet it sends shivers down his spine.

He feels your soft touch gliding against his skin, your fingers tracing the contours of his abs, then down, down, to his erect...

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes fly open. He looks around the room frantically, trying to right himself and return to full consciousness.

He's in his hotel room in New York. The digital clock reads 4:40 AM. This would be the day of his meeting, and it's way too early to be awake.

That dream. Oh, fuck, that dream.

It has rendered him warm all over, covered in a sheen of sweat. He feels something straining under the covers. Under his boxers. Some thing to deal with.

A remnant of the dream, and of you.

Of you. It's depraved, and he feels like a hypersexual teenage boy. But it wouldn't be the first time. He reaches for his phone and finds his favourite picture of you.

The screen illuminates his face in the darkness. His other hand shamelessly creeps its way in the shadows, down below.

And with heavy-lidded eyes, and a yearning heart and body, he dreams.

soooo, I think we all know what he did at the end 😉

I know this is not direct, full-on, real-person smut (I'm still on the fence about that) but whatever works, eh?

thanks for participating in our secret sessions! See you for part five of the series <3

[oceansblvds]

the early morning ; satoru gojo

pairing ; satoru gojo x reader

words ; 703

summary ; a blurb detailing waking up next to satoru gojo.

warning(s) ; slight smut, mentions of marriage, fingering,

it's during the early morning that you consider satoru gojo dutifully and wholly yours.

when you went to sleep in an empty bed and woke up with the first signs of the sun to someone next to you, his white tufts of hair poking out from under the blanket that he used to cover up his face. you wouldn't know when he arrived, probably some time between hours of 3am and 4am, whenever his job allowed for him to gain some type of reprieve.

you would ask him about it later, you supposed, taking the time to admire him, noting the cuts along his long fingers that he used to wrap around your waist. turning ever so slightly in an attempt to not wake him up, you peeked under the covers, seeing his soft eyelashes batted down and hearing his soft breathing breaking through the silence. he slept much like a child, always complaining about his beauty sleep.

as if satoru could sense that you were staring at him, his glowing blue eyes struggled to open, a grumble leaving his lips. "weirdo," he whispered to you, his hands coming and wrapping around your waist, pulling you up on top of him. your hands rested against his broad, naked chest, legs straddling his waist. "watching me sleep?"

"watching you drool," you teased, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his nose. "i just cleaned these sheets, you know."

satoru scrunched up his face, one of his hands coming to press against your upper back, pulling you closer to his body. "i do not drool," he stated. "plus, i'll just buy you new ones anyway."

"you're going to buy more instead of putting them into the wash?" you asked, raising your eyebrows at the laziness that he often presented when it came to normal, mundane tasks such as chores. "you really did grow up rich, didn't you?"

he only hummed, stretching forward and capturing your lips in a kiss, one that was clearly telling you to shut up. it was ever so composing, the dull taste of toothpaste being shared between the two of you, his tongue coming and invading the privacy of your mouth. you tried to gain the upper hand, putting your palm on his cheek and turning your head to deepen the kiss. satoru wasn't having any of it, deciding to distract you with a thrust of his hips forward, making you gasp into his mouth and allow for his tongue to slide further in. the bastard.

you decided to get revenge, rolling your hips, clothed pussy rubbing against his boxers. when you earned a particularly satisfying groan from him, you did it over and over again, using the force of his hands to help guide you to a pleasurable pace. all the while, his lips continued to kiss you. your neck, lips, collarbone, anything he could get them on. he was brutal with his kisses, sucking and biting and claiming you as his own. it was silly, really. his incessant need to continue to mark you as his as if he hadn't already claimed you the moment you two met all those years ago. still, you weren't going to complain.

"if you keep moving, i'm going to cum in my boxers," satoru said into your neck, using his hands to stop your hip movement all together. "and that would really be a shame."

to you, you thought. it would honestly be a compliment to your hip movements if you didn't say so yourself. a giggle left your mouth, one that he swallowed with his own as he pushed you onto your back, hand pushing into your panties to spread around your wetness. if he said something about it, you didn't hear it, too engrossed in his presence and the way that he was making you feel.

and as he pressed two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you to prep you for yet another round of good morning sex, you thought to yourself how lucky you were to call satoru gojo yours.

and what you didn't know was that last night he was out late to find the perfect ring to ask you to officially call you his.

[sooguru]

BIG MEN ‘N BIG DICKS ?!

⌗featuring ⸝⸝ 𝜗𝜚 ── geto , nanami , toji and sukuna.

⌗synopsis ⸝⸝ 𝜗𝜚 ── jjk men's reaction to you saying they're too big.

⌗cw ⸝⸝ 𝜗𝜚 ── size difference , creampies (vaginal + anal) , spanking , choking , degrading , praise , daddy kink , teasing , older man x younger reader , cumplay , spitting and anal play.

GETO SUGURU

YOUR hands slammed against the wall, slipping to grip the headboard, head lolling to the side, back arching in ecstasy as you whimpered out suguru’s name.

“s-suguu-mmhf! your dick is t-too big!”

the young male grinned, his hair falling forward, tickling the soft skin of your back as he kissed the curve of your shoulder, his deep chuckle ringing in your ear, the mellow sound going straight to your pussy. gummy walls gripping down on his cock in response to him.

“you can take it right angel? you’ve been doing so good f’me..”

he coos in your ear, his thrusts slow and deep, his girthy length slowly stretching your poor slopping pussy out, deliciously filling up your needy cunt. suguru groaned at the sounds of your sweet little gasps, watching you as your bottom lip was captured by your teeth in a laughable attempt at muffling your moans.

he tugged you back into him, his large hand resting on your neck, fingers tilting your head back so that he could see just how good his thick cock made his sweet girl feel. it was just the ego boost he needed, his tongue grazing the sensitive cartilage of your helix, whispering pure filth into your ear while he pressed your back against his chest, thrusting up into you with a renewed vigour, relishing the way your cunt would suck him in deeper with this new position, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm.

“‘m gonna wreck this little pussy.”

with those words, he grabbed the back of your head, fingers intertwining with your hair, gripping it roughly as he shoved your head down into the pillows, starting his assault on your pussy. the insensitive thrusts making your eyes roll back, threatening to stick as they rolled back, your sweet glossy lips parting to let out small sobs. drool leaving your patted lips, soaking the cotton of your pillows.

taking in raw, shallow breaths, your nose struggled to take in oxygen, pressed against the soft pillows while the sadistic man above you took pleasure in knowing he was the cause of your tears, his tip pressing against the spongy spot inside you. the brutality of his ruthless tip bullying your sensitive g-spot was about to send you over the edge. toes curled, hands threatening to rip the sheets beneath you, burning hot tears staining your flushed cheeks, your leaking hole fluttering around his cock, leaving a string of cream in its slippery wake.

“suguu- ‘m gonna cum- ‘s too much!”

he only smiled, tilting your head up as he gave you a sloppy kiss, tongues mingling together in a passionate wet kiss.

“cum f’me baby, gimme that sweet cum.”

suguru pulled back, watching as his broad cock disappeared inside you, a white creamy layer of your juices coating his cock as his hard thrusts finally sent you over the edge, the clear liquid gushing from your sensitive pussy, suguru’s thrusts failing to cease as he fucked you through your orgasm. busy chasing his own release.

“fuckk…that’s it love. look so pretty cummin’ f’me.”

he leaned down, sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving purple and red hues on your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin, leaving his mark on you. a sign that you were all his, only his. the wet muscle of his tongue dragged along your cheek, drinking in your tears from your overstimulation, drinking them happily as he gave you a few final thrusts. suguru groaned lowly in your ear, letting his cum spurt from his tip and into your sweet cunt, filling you up with his hot seed.

“i’ll put a baby in this fucking belly”

he moaned, thrusting a few more times before pulling out, spanking my ass as he watched his cum slowly gloop out, his cock twitching at the sight.

“oh fuck..you look so good stuffed with my cum baby.”

NANAMI KENTO

YOUR husband was busy reading a new book he purchased of recent. he was. that was until his sweet wife awoke from her peaceful slumber, only wearing one of his blue button up shirts, completely naked underneath. how could he ever resist you? he was only one man. his cock twitched in his pants, his eyes darkening with a sudden urge to take you once more. it didn’t take long for him to get you dripping for him. those thick fingers pumping in and out of your cunt was enough to make your twitching hole drool with your slick.

“my pretty pussy..”

he cooed, pulling his fingers out before you could cum, bringing them to his lips, moaning as he tasted your arousal on his tongue. the taste was like ambrosia to the tired man, his cock throbbing achingly in his sweatpants, desperate for a feel of that warm heat wrapped around his length. he patted his lap, smiling as he watched your small frame crawl onto him. his shirt looked so big on you, the globe of your ass peeking out from underneath. nanami chuckled as he watched you rub your hands against the print of his cock, noticing the large wet spot in the grey material, revealing his true desperateness for you.

"want something my love?"

you nodded, leaning up for a kiss while your hands tugged at his pants, pulling his cock out eagerly, needing it inside you.

"mmh you're so big ken.."

it was like a switch went off in his brain, his cock twitching under your touch, your words fueling his ego, encouraging him to show you just how good this big cock would make you feel. he swiftly grabbed you, lining his cock with your entrance before slamming himself inside, a low grunt leaving his lips as his hips rutted against your pelvis, balls hitting against your ass, a sharp cry slipping past your lips as you felt your dearest husband give you every single inch of his thick cock.

"f-fuck ken- wait- oh fuck!!"

he was in his own world, his large hands keeping you in his grasp, pounding up into you, using you like his personal fleshlight, his low grunts and moans mingling with your cute wines and whimpers, your pleas for him to slow down falling on to deaf ears.

"your pussy loves my cock princess. look at the way she's sucking me in.."

his voice was raspy, groaning in your ear as he bit the shell of it, soaking in the sounds of your sweet little moans, your slick pussy sucking his cock in deeper as his girth stretched you wide, his ruthless pace making it hard to not lose your entire mind. your legs trembled, tears pouring from your eyes, letting out broken cries as you clung to nanami, taking his cock the best you could, your tongue lolling out of your mouth, your mind going blank.

"' 'm c-close k-kenn..!"

"me too princess. just a little more."

he cooed, pressing his lips against yours in a frenzied rush of love and passion, tongues rubbing against each other as he swallowed your moans, groaning as he felt you cum around his cock, your body shaking as your pussy twitched and trembled around his cock, juices squirting from your slopping hole. it was enough to set him off, a moan and a string of curses leaving his lips as he pulled away from the sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your tongues as he pumped his cum into you, his thrusts coming to a stop, filling your used pussy to the brim.

he pressed his forehead against yours, smiling as he watched you pant, breathing heavily as you both caught your breath. he sighed softly, hugging you tightly as he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.

"you did so good for me princess, i love you so much"

TOJI FUSHIGURO

MAKING you cum was the least he could do for his cute roommate. you worked so hard at your job, letting him stay there for free while he looked around for work, planning on helping you pay soon; but for now, he had other methods of making himself useful. you had just come back from work, a tired and worn out expression on your face as you joined the older man on the couch, telling him about your tiring day at work. listening, toji’s hands rested on your hips, pulling you onto his lap as you hugged him, his large hands stroking your head. his other hand drifted lower, rubbing on your ass, gripping it softly through your leggings.

“you work so hard..”

he whispered, both hands gripping your ass as he tugged you closer, sitting you just above his semi hard cock, pressing it against your clothed cunt. you bit your lip, moaning softly as you rested your head on his shoulder, hands gripping his shirt while you finished talking about your day.

“i can make you feel better, just relax and let me take care of you.”

your eyes met his, your hands sinking into his short raven hair, pulling his head down as you kissed him slowly, missing the taste of his lips against yours. toji groaned softly, his cock getting harder under you as his hands tugged at the fabric of your leggings, pulling them off you before pulling you to him once more. his fingers played with the hem of your panties, tugging at them just to let it snap back onto your skin, eliciting a small gasp. he grinned against your lips, pushing your underwear to the side, his fingers plunging inside you, already moving at a fast pace, the soft squelches echoing around the room.

toji drank in your muffled moans, moaning as his cock twitched, feeling your juices gush onto his thick fingers. he pulled away from the kiss, his free hand massaging the plump curve of your ass, gripping it.

“that’s it baby, just let go f’me. let daddy take care of you.’

he cooed in your ear, chuckling as he felt your gummy walls clench down on his fingers in response to his words. you let out a needy whine due to the sudden emptiness inside you. toji brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them eagerly while his other hand landed a sharp slap to your clit, watching you jump and cry out.

“please..i need you daddy”

you pleaded, grinding against his erection, toji’s scarred lip curving into a salacious grin at the sound of his sweet girl asking for his cock. he was meant to be the one helping you to relax yet here you were grinding on his erection like a needy slut; of course he’d give you what you so desperately ‘needed’. he didn’t waste anymore time, taking out his cock, the large throbbing member painfully hard for you, pre-cum oozing from his fat tip.

“i always forget how big you are daddy..”

you whispered, your hands wrapping around his cock, rubbing the pre-cum around his tip, a low groan leaving toji's lips, his hand grabbing your hands, stopping your ministrations.

“sit on my cock dollface, don’t tease me.”

hovering over his cock, his hands gripped your ass, kissing your cheek before sinking you down on his girth, a low growl leaving toji’s lips as he felt your warmth grip him like a vice, the dripping hole sucking him in deeper. you let out a high pitch moan, slumping against the older man as your mind reeled from the feeling of him filling you up once again, the salacious stretch of your walls accommodating toji’s cock was enough to make him want to cum on the spot.

with fast, deep, hard strokes, toji held you in his arms, patting your head in a cute manner while his cock bullied your cunt, the slick of your pussy splashing against your thighs and his balls, making a sticky mess between the two of you. he whispered sweet filth into your ear, praising you and your pretty little cunt.

“you take daddy’s cock so good dollface. ‘m gonna fill that little pussy.”

he grunted, his hand gripping your hair slightly as he felt your walls quiver, throbbing around his cock as your orgasm approached. you let out a sharp whimper, the sound mixing with your moans as your juices squirted all over toji’s cock without warning.

“daddy- mmhf!”

“shit- baby..!”

he cursed, unable to hold back any longer, his hips rutting up involuntarily, clinging to you as his cum spurted from his tip, painting your gummy walls completely white. he went to check on you, only to see you passed out in his arms, eyes closed as you slept peacefully. a fucked our expression on your face. toji chuckled, keeping you close to him, rubbing your back gently.

“goodnight doll.”

RYŌMEN SUKUNA

NEVER did sukuna believe that he could find himself so deeply infatuated with someone as small and fragile as you. how you were able to make him lose all control was astonishing. as of right now, seeing your bare skin gleam under the rats of sunlight as you slept in his bed was enough to make the curse feel like cumming in his robes.

he stalked quietly towards you, all four eyes watching you curiously, quietly sinking into bed besides you, admiring your sleeping face. you started to stirr at his soft touch against your back and his hard member pressing against your ass.

“kuna..?”

you mumbled, yawning as you stretched, smiling softly as the curse kissed you, his hand reaching up to your neck, bringing you closer to him as his tongue slipped into your mouth, needing a taste of you. you didn’t object, your cheeks flushing as you felt his cock press against you through his robes.

“i want you woman.”

“then have me kuna..”

you said with a smile, kissing the corner of the curses lips, his heart fluttering at the notion, cock twitching with need. he didn’t waste any time, removing the robes covering his throbbing cock, watching as it sprung free, slapping against his abdomen, the large member intimidating in nature. he watched you lay back, spreading your legs for him, your dripping pussy exposed for him.

“already so wet? i’ve barely touched you.”

he scoffed, eagerly running his fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingers, bringing it up to his face, taking a deep sniff.

“disgustingly sweet.”

pre-cum oozed from his tip, his body betraying his true feelings in contrast to his words. he rubbed your slick along his cock, using it to get it nice and wet. he grabbed your ankles, tugging you to the end of the bed before flipping you onto your stomach, lifting your ass up in the air before stuffing his entire length into your awaiting pussy. he smirked at the sob leaving your lips, the painful stretch of his cock mixing with the immense pleasure of his tip hitting your g-spot with his rough thrusts.

you cried out, gripping the bed sheets, threatening to rip them as his large frame pressed against you from behind, all four arms touching on you. two playing with your nipples, one rubbing on your clit, the last one gripping your ass as he fucked you into the soft mattress of the bed. what caught you off guard was the feeling of something wet against your puckered hole, your eyes widening.

“k-kuna wh-”

“shh..”

he hushed your questions, his stomach tongue lapping at your asshole, globs of saliva coating your ass, sukuna’s head quirking to the side as he tasted you even though his main mouth wasn’t near you; letting out a whimper as his tongue prodded at your hole, slipping itself in, fucking your asshole. the stimulation from both areas proving to be too much, your eyes rolling back in pure pleasure, your body weakly trying to crawl away in attempts to escape the overwhelmingly good feeling of the lewd act.

“ah. where do you think you’re going girl?”

he grabbed you, yanking you back into him, his tongue getting deeper. a broken sob leaving your lips in response.

“‘s too m-much kunaaa..”

you whined, cumming all over his cock, his tip pressing against your cervix as he made sure to get as deep as he possibly could.

“you’ll take it for me because you’re my good girl.”

you were about to say something else, but you gasped as you felt a wad of saliva hitting your ass, soon followed by the prodding of another member at your entrance.

“think you can take both of my cocks pretty?”

he didn’t give you time to answer, his cock already pushing in and filling you to the brim. the sensation of being stuffed in both holes was foreign to you, your small frame trembling, sobbing into the sheets, weak as the large curse was busy pounding into you with perfect precision, groaning loudly as he felt more of his control slip, picking you up with his arms, your body looking so small compared to him, both holes taking him so beautifully.

“c-can’t- t-too big kuna…!”

his pride swelled at your words, grinning as he continued to hold you, your back pressing against his chest, legs hanging over his arms, squished to your chest. sukuna groaned, his thrusts speeding up as he let you cum as you please, constant orgasms wracking your body one after the next, coating his cock in your cream.

“i’m coming my girl.”

that was the only warning you got before two hot loads of cum were sent spilling into each hole, your eyes rolling back, the pleasure of being stuffed in two places felt better than you’d like to admit. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in your scent as he slowly pulled out, his cum leaking everywhere, making a sticky mess as your body slumped into his arms, exhausted. sukuna hummed at the sight of you, one of his hands stroking your cheek.

“always so good for me.”

[cevansbrat0007]

Quickie

Summary: You get caught up in the moment while dropping off dinner to your favorite bounty hunter.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Pure Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Unprotected Sex,Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Semi-public Sex, Manhandling, Ass Grabbing, Ass Slapping, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

When you stopped by the precinct this evening, all you’d intended to do was drop off a home cooked meal to a certain bounty hunter. You had no idea what was in store for you the moment you’d walked back to the tiny corner office they'd set aside for him rocking the pink floral babydoll dress and jean jacket you’d dug out from the back of your closet.

If you had, then maybe you would’ve at least had the thought to stretch. Also, you probably would’ve worn different shoes. Perhaps you would’ve gone with a pair of flats instead of wedge heels.

And lastly, in favor of decorum, you would’ve left your man’s food up at the front with Deputy Milton where you, and it, were safe.   

“That’s it. Keep workin’ me, baby.” Ari rasps, his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear as his fingers dig into your hips. “There’s a good girl.” Choking back a sob, you’re forced to bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound of your cries.   

“Fuck, you feel so good. But if you want this dick, you’ve gotta be quiet.” 

Dear God, he was right. The last thing you needed was an audience. Especially not in the form of the entire police department. You were pretty sure that you’d die from embarrassment.

He whispers hungry kisses along the curve of your jaw while you continue to ride him, your internal muscles milking him for all he’s worth. Pure feminine satisfaction fills you when you hear him bite back his own groan. Emboldened by his response, you bear down, purposely clenching your heat around his throbbing cock.

“God, Beast! Fu–please!”

Pleasure mounts as your teeth graze the sensitive column of his throat, earning you a growl from your bounty hunter. You feel the sound, which rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest. It reverberates through you, all the way down to your toes.

Christ, it all felt so good. Enough to overwhelm your senses as you feel the coil tighten in your belly, threatening to snap with every moan. Every cry. Every measured stroke of your hips. It was almost too goddamn much. 

Wanting to catch your breath, you attempt to pull away. Which is all the invitation your man needs to capture your mouth with his own. A mere second goes by before his tongue teases its way past your lips. It’s a wild, unbridled claiming that leaves you with no doubt to whom you belong. 

He dutifully swallows each desperate cry. Every pathetic little mewl. He savors them with the knowledge that those carnal sounds were meant for him alone. 

“I know, little Bird.” Ari presses a fevered kiss against your damp brow once he finally lets you up for air. “I know.” He then wraps his brawny arms around your middle, pulling you flush against him. “I can feel it buildin’. Shit’s so good I’m about to burn up.”

Nodding, you throw an arm around his neck to pull him even closer. A sharp cry bursts from your throat, prompting him to slap a hand over your mouth. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when your eyes are too busy rolling in the back of your head. 

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.”

“Please!” Your vision blurs as you try to focus on your breathing. A tear makes its way down your cheek as your muscles begin to burn, protesting their overuse – although it’s quickly chased away by your partner’s eager tongue.

That simple, yet surprisingly animalistic act is enough to make your pussy cream, drenching his dick with a fresh wave of your slick. But as heavenly as this all feels, you can’t quite help it when your movements begin to falter.  

“Better not be gettin’ tired on me, baby.” The quiet snarl rips through you, ratcheting your feelings of ecstasy up another notch. His big hands move to your ass, tightly gripping the tender flesh as he encourages you to keep going. 

“I can’t…” You whine, stretching out the word. Needing more, you find yourself arching your chest up at him. In your haste to get undressed, you’d only managed to get your bra half off, leaving one breast completely bare. “Please…”    

“Need your man to help you, darlin’?” His tone takes on a slightly mocking lilt. “Is that it?” Your world blurs when he adjusts the angle, repositioning your joined bodies so that your back is now resting on his desk. “Can’t do it by yourself anymore?”

“Beast….” Your head lolls to the side, a thin sheen of perspiration cloaking your skin as the bounty hunter begins thrusting in and out of your spasming cunt. “M’so close.” You keen, seeking relief. “S’right there. Right there. Right there…”   

“Shit!” Ari grits out, biting his lip. “You’re even tighter like this – gotta pussy like a fuckin’ vice, baby.” He nuzzles his bearded face between the valley of your heaving breasts. And then you’re treated to the wet scrape of his tongue along your heated flesh before rearing back to pull your taut nipple into his waiting mouth.  

White hot sparks dance through your veins as Ari commits to wrecking you with his thick cock. Your mouth opens in a silent scream while he fucks you, his hips pistoning in and out of you as if his very life depended upon it. 

Ecstasy threatens to overwhelm you once more as your nails claw at his back, which only spurs him to go deeper, ensuring that you’d feel him for days. Your Beast didn’t give a shit about you leaving marks on his skin. 

He was the type of man who wore them with pride.

Ari hitches your leg around his waist, making you cry out. You’re rewarded with a sharp slap to your ass as a reminder to be quiet. “Gonna have to shut that pretty mouth, darlin’.” He reaches into his pocket to grab your previously discarded panties before shoving them into your mouth. “You brought this on yourself.” He hisses. “Walkin’ in here wearin’ in that dress.” 

In this position, it’s like you can feel every ridge, every vein of his fat dick as he plunders your passion-swollen folds. Your heel digs into his back when you feel that fiery coil in your belly tighten and snap, sending you careening over the edge and into bliss. 

You try to scream, but it’s hard with a mouth full of cotton. A fact for which you are eternally grateful. Wanting Ari to tumble with you, you clench your muscles over and over until you feel him unable to hold back. 

“FUCK!” He roars, his big body jerking as the force of his orgasm washes over him.   

Belatedly, you wish either one of you had thought to bother with a condom. But you push the thought away as quickly as it comes. Right now you felt too good to even consider wallowing in regret. Which meant that today’s neglect would just have to be tomorrow’s problem.     

For a few moments, the two of you are content to simply exist as you are. You stay joined until your respective breathing evens out. Smiling, you press a soft kiss to your man’s shoulder, prompting him to stand up and take you with him.

It’s difficult, but you manage to suppress a whimper when Ari removes himself from your precious heat. “Uh, thanks for bringing me dinner, baby.” He says, attempting to catch his breath as he helps you fix your dress before zipping up his jeans.     

“Never had someone get so excited over chicken enchiladas.” You try, and fail, to stifle your giggle.

“Well, what did you expect when you told me you made the guacamole from scratch?” He waggles his brows before dropping a swift kiss on your upturned lips. 

“I dunno.” You shrug, gripping the front of his shirt to drag him back down for yet another smooch. Of course, Ari is more than happy to oblige. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“Nah.” Your bounty hunter grins, toying at a stray curl with his finger. “Was Milton still listening to Taylor Swift when you walked in?”

“Yeah. He said something about being on an easter egg hunt. Apparently he has to connect all the dots before her new album, The Tortured Poets Department, drops.”

“Good. Then he didn’t hear shit.” 

Needing to rehydrate, you reach for his water before screwing off the cap and taking a sip. “Am I going to your place or mine tonight?” You manage to ask in between gulps. 

“Mine.” He grunts, nuzzling your nose with his. “I’ll see you in a few hours. We sleepin’ in tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You playfully hedge. Tomorrow was typically your late day anyway, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well, consider it my goal to get home early enough to convince you.” Ari helps you stand up before moving to fix the skirt of your dress. “I’m gonna walk you out now. Go straight to my place and lock up.” He tucks another stray curl behind your ear.

“Okay.” You breathe, wishing you could bring him with you.     

“Good. And no matter how much I beg, don’t let me near that sweet pussy before you leave the parking lot.”

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

@katymae12344 @identity2212 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @blackhawkfanatic @jamneuromain @queerqueenlynn @pono-pura-vida @daykrisr999 @jamneuromain @ninacutebee16 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @emerald-writes @gh0stgurl @blogbog710 @sincerelytlh

[cweampier]

i have nasty thoughts about leon’s arms. like sex from behind, holding your back against his hard chest, his big hand is around your throat and the other is around your waist and all you can do is grab at it pathetically bc he’s hitting it so good.

i’m sorry i had to share it w someone bc it’s driving me insane

EATS YOUR BRAIN WHOLE.. like a zombie. cause you’re so right? especially in the remake i’ve been squelching at the sight of them. re4 leon, he’s a bit of a meanie pants here.. he loves you i prommy </3

cw for dubcon (?) per request

leon listened intently as you whined about how you couldn’t take it, of course you couldn’t, you could never take shit you fucking ask for. he gritted his teeth, adjusting the grip he had on your throat as he kept slamming into you relentlessly. you couldn’t do anything, you were practically melded into him, ass pressed against his pelvis so perfectly as he looked down to enjoy the view of the way it recoiled with each threatening, almost possessive thrust. you couldn’t control the way your hips convulsed in his hold, the way your mouth remained agape as your nails dug crescent shaped imprints into his toned forearm that was wrapped securely around your waist.

he wasn’t gonna let you run, fuck no he wasn’t. “you sit there n’ fuckin’ take me like you were begging to do so. don’t get cold feet on me now, hon.” he tuts, mischief laced in his tone as the tip of his cock kissed up against your cervix deliciously, causing you to cry out in mind-numbing ecstasy. you babbled incoherently and he scoffed at your attempts to vocalize how you felt. he knew he was doing a good job, he just knew it. the only thing he could make out was his name in mantra. his breaths became more ragged as a shit-eating-grin stretched across his face.

he felt your cunt squeeze around the base of his dick for dear life, almost for mercy as he continued to abuse it. it was his pussy anyway. he fucking owned it and you knew he did, like a good girl. “gonna cum on my cock, baby? yeah, i fucking want you to.. fuuuck yes,” he cursed under his breath as he released his hold on you, shoving you on all fours before pressing a firm hard down on your lower back, arching your ass towards him.

you gripped at the sheets pathetically, eyes rolling back in searing pleasure as your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. you heaved as leon tightened his grip on your hips, somehow delving deeper inside your aching pussy as it noisily responded to his efficacy. “hoh’fuck, leon.. fucking—feels s’good..” you stammered, grinding your hips against his own to give him leverage to meet you halfway. he tossed his head back in tandem, filling the room with those pretty whines of satisfaction.

“‘m gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, sweetheart..” he rasped, leaning over to capture your lips into a sloppy kiss, coating his lips with your drool as they glistened in the weak lighting of the room. “pussy feels so good.. ‘t’s all mine too..” ૮꒰ ⸝⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ა

[thecoochiefairy]

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑝ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑦 .ᐟ getou + gojo.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 9.7K word count. sex in a church, priests getou + gojo, talks of religion; catholic/christianity. third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, sweet sex, hair pulling, squirting,creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, masturbation, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, aggressive + cocky getou + gojo, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 ; 𝑑𝑜𝑗𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑡

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ ; surprise ;) once again, dedicated to my life, my love, my soulmate @hellavile . a lil’ fun fact, i am a christian girlie. but…i just couldn’t help myself. enjoy.

SITTING THROUGH THIS ENTIRE SERVICE WASN’T ON HER TO-DO LIST. YET, SHE FELT STUCK IN HER SEAT. Her eyes trail along the crowded room, seeing heads are bowed as they intimately whisper to themselves, guiding their own sense of mind in devotion to them. Not necessarily them, but at least that’s how she perceived it.

She feels like she’s the only person that isn’t taking this time to pray. Shit, she might be. Instead her eyes stare directly to the stage of the cathedral, eyeing the two men who seem to lead this congregation. She had been here only a handful of times, seating herself in the back as she curiously listened to sermons, wondering if they’d even stick with her. They hadn’t. She wanted to understand why such powerful words wouldn’t berate her mind outside of this building. Maybe she truly wasn’t a believer. Or maybe she was just distracted…by them.

She eyes them one by one. The one standing to the left stares stoically into the crowd with his darkly hooded eyes, pale skin and onyx hair longer than she could imagine. It was elegantly tied into a low bun today, a tendril of it separating from the group with his every movement. He’s covered in an all black suit, her eyes noticing the ink that swims beneath the wrists of his blazer, crawling all the way to his neck, hiding beneath the material of his clothes. A pair of tiny silver balls sink into his right eyebrow, a piercing she wouldn’t assume to be on a man of his stature. His eyebrows are constantly furrowed when he looks around, an almost disdain to his face.

They were like night and day standing next to each other. On the right, his calm expression seems more welcoming. His eyebrows don’t furrow as he stares, icy blue eyes striking into her chest without his attempt. His hair is as light as angels wings. His body is clean of any marking or holes, frame captured in a matching black suit. They were complete opposites. Another thing she noticed, despite the innocent physical stature of this man, a mischievous glint sat in those captivating eyes. More mischievous than a tattooed and pierced-man could ever hold.

It constantly piqued her own curiosity on why anytime she came here that instead of listening to them speak, she just watched the way they moved. It was a confidence, a leadership that clearly brought people together. A dominance. She wondered if they were dominant in other parts of their life, too. As she brings herself out of her thoughts, she notices two pairs of eyes have taken attention of her, regardless of being all the way in the back. She brings her eyes back down to her notes.

Members begin to exit as they’re released from service, her eyes following the line of people that stand.

“All new members are welcomed to meet the Priest,” a voice announces from the side of the stage. Her attention pulls back to the podium they stand beside, shaking people’s hands, kissing babies, she could’ve rolled her eyes. They were like celebrities.

There were multiple opportunities for her to meet the leaders of the church, but to risk the embarrassment of admitting that she was instantly enthralled by them, she would quickly duck her head out minutes before everyone was released. But she knew in order to strengthen her relationship with god—the whole reason she was here—she needed to stop being a wuss.

Gathering the miniature Bible and her notebook, she keeps them in one hand as she picks her dress slightly off of the ground, standing as the last person in line. The line had now shortened as everyone was beginning to leave, her head turning back in hopes that she really wouldn’t be the last person. Her luck was also shit.

She takes a deep breath as she lifts her stiletto heel onto the stage, bringing her face to meet the two men she thought so much of. They were just as intimidating up close. They both stare intensely at her, starting from her heels, to the black long sleeve top she wears that clings to her full breast and small waist. A pair of wide hips and an elongated torso are camouflaged underneath her snug black skirt.

As she strides up to them, her equally onyx hair is in an updo, a pink butterfly keeping it clipped together. A thick piece is curled and flowing on the side of her face with every step she takes. They both take in her curvy figure, following all the way up to her heart shaped lips, star shaped diamond pierced within her face, nose ring shining in the light. She definitely wasn’t anyone they’d seen before.

Her almond shaped eyes sparkle at them as she places her hand out, “That was a great sermon, Father,” She lies.

A tattooed hand reaches out and takes hers within his larger palm as he replies, “I appreciate that. And your name is?”

“Solana,” she replies softly. Her eyes come down as she sees he hadn’t released her hand yet.

“Beautiful. It fits you,” he observes, she’s not sure it’s a compliment as he remains serious, “Are you a new member? You don’t look like a familiar face.”

“Uh…not necessarily a member as of yet. I’m just…scouting for a new church,” She corrects, still seeing he’s holding her hand, “I’m a bit surprised to see that the Priests are so…young. I didn’t catch your names.”

He finally releases her hand, blue eyes twinkling beside him in amusement as he then joins the conversation, “Suguru’s two years older than me. Meaning he’s old. I’m young, I’m Satoru,” he takes her hand, his grip more softer than Suguru’s.

“Father Satoru?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Not yet, I’m mentoring him. For now he’s a Deacon, but most of the people in the church refer to him as Father Satoru,” Suguru replies, ignoring Satoru’s age comment.

“Oh, so you’re the one that runs this place?” She questions.

“With an iron fist,” Satoru interrupts. Suguru looks over at him with a slightly annoyed scrunch to his face.

“My father was in charge before me. It was passed down sooner than I thought due to him becoming sick,” Suguru explains, “What did you like about the sermon?”

“Tell him what’s in your notes,” Satoru points out. Solana looks over to him, hating that she was intuitive about the mischief in those damn eyes. She chuckles.

“It wasn’t much. Nothing to really tell,” she explains, keeping her attention to Suguru.

“Tell me then. I’m curious,” he prods.

Shit. Honestly, she was just being polite. She didn’t want her first introduction to be playing Devil’s Advocate.

She then speaks, “Well…your topic today was the temptation of lust. A constant debate of whether it’s someone’s true test of keeping their vows to god—I’d say people are just human with helpless desires,” She recites, “You see, I’m trying to build a personal relationship with him. Coming to church was a mere curiosity. I had a feeling that some things being said I wouldn’t necessarily agree with, hence me taking notes.”

Suguru’s eyebrows raise in mild surprise, “So I’m assuming you’re not entirely a believer, then?”

“Trying to be, Father,” she corrects briefly, “It’s just hard. Some things seem entirely unrealistic…I don’t mean to be nosey, but looking at all the work you have on your body that seems to travel beneath your clothes, there was a time you weren’t entirely a believer either, was there?”

Satoru grins, Suguru now raising a single eyebrow. It didn’t shock him for her astuteness.

“Sorry…” she mutters, a small smile on her lips, “I come from a time where church was extremely small-minded and traditional. To see you and all of your physical differences from a regular Priest, it’s just a bit shocking. May I ask, how do the older members perceive you?”

She then wants to face palm herself as she hears her own words. Solana curses, “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean—crap—I mean— I was just referring to your tattoos and piercings,” she mutters.

“You seem more fascinated by my appearance rather than the sermon itself, Solana,” he calls her full name, wanting her attention.

“‘Fascinated’ wouldn’t be the word, perhaps, bewitched? Beguiled?” Satoru taunts.

“None of the above. But I’d say you’re a bit presumptuous, Father Satoru?” She mockingly replies.

“Would you rather I use the word curious, then?” Suguru asks.

“I could just be a curious person in general. Maybe I’m just bored, don’t assume too much about me,” Solana shrugs, “Plus, isn’t curiosity a sin within the Bible?”

His dark eyes pierce into hers. “Hm. That’s true, I shouldn’t assume. But curiosity is a virtue, not a sin. Though I imagine members in my congregation might disagree. I’ll have to bring that up in the next service.”

She tilts her head, “Seems like I might miss that service, then. I don’t recall agreeing to come back…” she thinks to herself.

“Cute,” Satoru eyes her up and down, “You’ll be back.”

“‘Shed light on the proud, haughty, and insolent behaviors that underlie arrogance,’” She recited, “Proverbs. Curiosity may be a virtue, but narcissism isn’t,” She speaks, referring to his assumptions of being captivated by him. Sure, damned her if she was. But he didn’t need to know that.

“The non-believer has read almost every inch of the Bible, it seems,” Suguru leans against the podium, his face twitching.

“…But then again, perhaps you’re merely trying to impress us. A girl as beautiful as you knows how to get your way,” Satoru adds.

“Is it working?” She then asks.

“Nah,” Suguru responds.

Solana raises her eyebrows, “‘Nah?’ Is the Priest off of the clock?”

“Talking to you? Might be, you’re trouble,” Satoru replies.

“Says the unorthodox Priest and his vexing Deacon.”

Satoru puts his hand over his chest, “Offensive.”

“You and Satoru gonna’ keep flirting or are you gonna hand me that notebook of yours?” Suguru asks, Solana bringing her eyes back to him.

“Mmm, I won’t. I have to get going soon and prepare for work.”

“Where do you work?” Satoru asks.

“I work from home. I’m a Cam Girl,” She calmly responds. When the both of them have frowns come upon their face, she looks between the two as she continues, “You know, the ones that take their clothes off and—“

“Alright.”

“I’m aware of what it is.”

They both say this at the same time, Solana amused at their dismissiveness. She’s surprised at how open the conversation is, even with their hierarchy, they make her feel as comfortable as possible. They felt like two male friends in the span of one conversation. The thing was, she didn’t want them as just friends.

“Clock in, do what you gotta do. But you’ll be here again next service with a new set of notes for me, I expect you to pay attention to my sermon. I’m a bit impatient. Cool?” Suguru asks.

“But—“

“Good,” Satoru cuts her off, “Welcome, member.”

“I never agreed—“

“Who asked?” Suguru questions. Satoru shrugs his shoulders.

Solana looks between the two men, silver crosses around their necks, a facade they played all too well in front of everyone else. This was the first time in her life that she didn’t have a man wrapped around all of her fingers, instead she was wrapped in each of theirs.

“Fine,” She doesn’t argue, pressing her hands behind her back. She can feel her face becoming warm.

“Huh,” Satoru crosses his arms, light hair swaying as he tilts his head to look at her.

“What?” She asks.

“To be this… ‘Cam Girl’ you mentioned, I’m assuming you’re usually the one in control. But now you seem…so submissive,” Suguru observes. The intensity in his eyes was something she didn’t see in Satoru’s. This man was much harder to read.

“We make her nervous,” Satoru states, not questions.

Her mouth goes slightly agape as they ricochet off of each other. She has no time to reply or find a smart-ass comeback. She can’t help but become a little irritated with this newfound characteristic of herself—intimidation. She puts on a fake smile as she nods her head towards the both of them, turning as she makes her way down the aisle towards the exit.

“We’ll be waiting for those notes, Solana,” Satoru calls.

“He’ll be waiting. I expect them in my hand,” Suguru finalizes, she doesn’t notice his eyes falling down to her ass.

She hoped that these two would be the complete opposite of what she imagined them to be before their meeting. Angelic, innocent, pure. But as she spoke with them, watching as they observed her every move, and told her what she was going to do, she seemed to be wrong. Devilish, guilty, impure. To make matters worse, she was going to do exactly what was asked of her. Motherfuckers.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

A couple of weeks had gone by. It was the same routine, sitting in the back of the service as she listened to Suguru preach, taking her own interpretations of his words. She noticed the brief looks he’d give over to her. Satoru winked. As service ended she would politely speak to the both of them as she handed Suguru her notes, unable to fully make eye-contact. Here was the issue. The first time she saw them, all she could think was how badly she wanted them to fuck her. She thought it was a mere attraction. But as every interaction surpassed, the thought became worse. Was she losing her mind?

She was coming to know the two men that everyone adored. As she wished that she only adored them, she felt cursed with vivid dreams and fantasies she couldn’t rid herself of. Every time she looked at Suguru’s perfect face, long onyx hair, gauges in his ears, eyebrow piercing. The tattoos that hid beneath his clothes. Satoru’s light hair and cocky-son-of-a-bitch smirk. On the other hand, her reactions weren’t something that went unnoticed. The sudden flush of her cheeks intrigued them as they noticed her out of the corner of their eye.

She wasn’t like the other women that swooned over them, falling victim to their charms without any fight. She had always kept an arms length from the two, seemingly unaffected by their charisma and allure that drew others to them so easily. At least she pretended well enough.

They could sense her hesitation, the slight quiver of her bottom lip as they watched her from the front. She always kept her gaze away from them, eyes focused elsewhere.

A shiver came down her spine anytime Suguru shook her hand, the thought of that hand slamming down against her ass as he spanked her. Anytime Satoru looked her in the eyes, she imagined him staring down at her as she moaned in pleasure beneath him. Anytime they both spoke to her, she could hear them within her ear, whispering dirty blasphemies. She’d seen handsome men before. Why the hell were they so hard to remove from her mind? It had to be the forbidden fact that they were the church's chairmen, and she was only a member. It aroused her.

They noticed with more interaction that she distanced herself farther. The way her eyes always darted away, the flush in her face. She was always so…hesitant and reserved.

These qualities made her all the more enticing, Satoru found her obedience adorable. Suguru was losing his patience.

Nonetheless, every interaction showed how completely opposite they were. There were times that she assumed Suguru was the least bit interested, but then she would notice the looks he gave her. Like a predator patiently awaiting for its prey to look away before it made its attack. Satoru spoke with confidence, offering his hand when Solana was too afraid to reach out for it. But she couldn’t lie, there was a sense of arrogance to him. A cockiness where he knew the things she was feeling. Almost as if he could read her every thought.

As another service ended, she stood behind a group of women that spoke to them, waiting for her turn. They all turned towards her, eyes wicked and wanting to drain life from her presence. Just like they stared, she raised an eyebrow as she stared back, turning her head and watching until they walked out of the door.

“The hell are they looking at?” She twists her head.

“Solana,” Suguru calls, an irritation to his tone.

“Oh. Okay. The fuck,” she muttered to herself, apologizing in her head for the curse. She then brushes off the interaction as she speaks, “Good morning, I was just bringing my notes to you, Father. Didn’t mean to send away your groupies.”

“Groupies?” Suguru repeats.

“I’d say more devoted members,” Satoru corrects.

“Same difference. They all have more than one way of getting on their knees for either of you,” She fires politely.

Satoru raises his eyebrows, “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she turns her head back to Suguru. He noticed the way her dress clung tightly to her frame, the subtle way it emphasized her hips. The way it highlighted her figure was almost distracting, almost intoxicating. He fought back the urge to stare, to ogle, to fantasize...

“How are you today?” She asks him.

His eyes flickered for a moment with amusement. She was so different from the rest of the women who came to this church. Instead of replying, he tilted his head to the side and took in a few seconds before shrugging. "I feel fine." he spoke, his voice still rich with annoyance. But there would be no breaking his poise, no cracking his self-assured exterior.

Although at times she couldn’t stand Satoru’s more extroverted character, she sometimes wished Suguru was a little more open with her. It frustrated her as he was always short, but his eyes told something different.

“Good,” she replied softly. She then pulled her notes from the pages between her Bible, lifting her hand out to him.

He reached out to take the pages from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. He noticed how her hands trembled slightly as if she were nervous, how the tips of her fingers were lightly stained black from the ink. His glance scanned the room filled with his congregation, people chatting away with one another, exchanging pleasantries as they exited the church. But he couldn't help his gaze, constantly drifting back to Solana.

“I apologize for my indignation, Father,” Solana shakes her head.

"No need to apologize." he spoke. And for a split second, another hint of amusement crosses his face as he notices her blush reemerging after she offers an apology. It was always so innocent, that flush of red on her cheeks, almost comparable to a little girl.

He couldn't help himself from wondering whether she was truly as timid as she seemed on the outside.

“I…what’s so funny?” She asks, realizing as he looks to be entertained.

“Your…covetousness…it’s cute,” Satoru replies.

“Nothing,” Suguru says.

He wanted to reprimand her for the foul mouth she had, imagining how red her face would be if he slammed his palm against it, gripping her chin as his dick shoved into her mouth. None of that appeared on his expression.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you guys at the next service,” she nods, keeping her eyes away from him. This time as she stared at them, all she could see was Suguru taking her against the podium, her screams filling the cathedral as Satoru held her face, cockily grinning at her demise. She swallowed as she turned around, quickly walking away.

Suguru watched her leave, his eyes following the subtle sway of her hips as she walked. It made him want to grasp and hold onto her. A vision of him grabbing her by the arm and dragging her back to the church made itself prominent in his mind, his voice whispering all of the things he’d do to her. Yet as always, it was just a vision.

But his eyes still lingered on her.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

Another week had gone by as she sat towards the back of the church. Her mind continued to run with images of Suguru and Satoru, just wanting to feel their lips against hers. This service they wore identical short sleeved turtlenecks and their usual cross necklaces, Suguru showing off the numerous tattoos down his arms, Satoru’s arms bulging through his top. She imagined those arms holding her up as they thrusted into her. The minute their eyes followed over to hers, she flew them back down.

They took notice of the way her gaze continued to dart away each time they looked in her direction, seemingly fearful. It was a far cry from the way the other women looked at them. In fact, it was almost as if she avoided their gaze on purpose.

She needed to do something about this. It felt like a sickness in the mind at this point, no medicine curable for her disease. As their usual routine played out, she handed Suguru her notes as he brushed his fingers against her hand, chills coming down her spine. The way her body responded to simple physical touches made him want to see what else he could do to crack her. His eyes watched as she darted away from them once again, he was becoming more and more agitated by her timidity. Satoru shook his head as he chuckled, Suguru making a mental note that the next time he wouldn't be so easy to dismiss her.

When she made it home that night, she forced herself to get dressed and do her makeup, planning a scheme as she made her way to the bar. She planned to erase them away with a good one night stand, twisting her drink in her hand as she stared over the crowd of tipsy eyes. She then found herself the perfect victim, a handsome smile seductive as he watched her.

She didn’t have it in herself for the small talk, or to waste any time. Their clothes shredded off as they fumbled into Solana’s condo, kissing messily as they landed on the bed. As she expected a full amount of pleasure to fulfill her, this random stranger rushed through the entire interaction. He pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripping the packaging harshly with his teeth. His lips against her neck felt sticky, attacking her throat in a way that was almost painful. She spread her legs as she awaited for him to bring his mouth lower.

He scrunches his face as he asks, “What?”

She frowns, “You aren’t gonna….?”

“Oh—nah, I don’t do that shit. I don’t really know you like that,” He responds, almost laughing at her question. She coughs as he then flips her body over to where she’s on her stomach, pressing her face into the sheet as he slides on his condom.

Before he continues he then asks, “I’m a little soft. Wanna give me some head?”

“Um, no?” She muffled through the blanket.

“Whatever,” he smacks his lips.

She hopes that the sex might cause them to create a better chemistry, awaiting for that incoming pleasure as he’s inside of her. This is all she needed, it would rid her of the annoying thoughts of Suguru and Satoru. As she thinks this, an overload of pain shreds through her lower abdomen as he enters her, realizing that she’s barely aroused. Even in the times that she wasn’t fully aroused, she’d be soaked at the thought of incoming pleasure. Not this time.

He pushes her head into the blanket as he thrusts wildly, giving her no air to breathe or even intake any type of pleasure—if there even was any. She grits her teeth as she tries to adjust herself, yet he grips her in place as he hastens, “Chill. Chill. You’re gonna fuck up my groove.”

She turns her head slightly as she tries to stare at him, his arms keeping her held down as he asks, “You like that?”

“Mhmmmm…” she responded, releasing a fake moan for him.

She closed her eyes as she became angry. All she could think about was Father Suguru and Satoru…

Before the blink of an eye, she suddenly hears the man behind her shout, “Oh, Sasha!” releasing within the condom he wears, pulling himself out as quickly as he went in. Bastard. She had told him her name.

She was frustrated beyond belief. The entire night had been unfulfilling, the way this random man had touched and kissed her was almost laughable when compared to the fantasies she had. His scent was uninspiring, his touch lacked a certain warmth. This man was boring, mundane, and unsatisfying. Her mind was elsewhere, all she could think about was Suguru. His smell, his voice and his touch. Then she thought about Satoru. She wished it was him instead of this random man who grunted above her.

The man's grunts and moans were almost amusing to her, but the sound of his snoring even more so as he collapsed against the bed, knocking out beside her. In all honesty, the man was more of a nuisance than anything. She didn’t even have the energy to kick him out as she turned over on her back, staring up into the ceiling as she continued to create those fantasies in her mind. She tried to relax, but his snoring filled her bedroom, drowning out any other noise.

Her mind began to flicker images again. She closed her eyes as she imagined the both of them crawling onto the bed with her, hands all along her body. She slowly brought her hand down between her legs, bringing a finger over her clit as she rubbed softly, biting down on her mouth as a small sense of pleasure rippled through her. She was always good at making herself cum, but tonight was like no other. She couldn’t finish. She wanted to throw a tantrum, banging her fists along the sheets of her bed. She turned on her side, hoping sleep would be better than any of this bullshit.

Waking up the next morning, she turns over as she sees this man still asleep in her bed, hoping he went into cardiac arrest. She relaxes within her sheets, assuming it was still early in the morning. As she picks up her phone to set her alarm, she sees it’s an hour after eleven. Her body springs up. She curses, “Shit! I’m late for church.”

She pushes the man out of her house, locking the door and blocking his number as she speeds to get ready. Solana pulls her hair into a claw clip, unable to have the patience to style it. A navy blue long sleeve clings to her upper body, yoga pants and matching heels, pulling her glasses over her face as she’s too impatient to put on her contacts. She grabs for her Bible and notebook, speeding out of the house and towards the church, hoping she’d make it in time.

She felt like a child in trouble. Sneaking her way into the crowd as she stands in the back, keeping her head down as she sees that everyone else has their head down in prayer. As she raises her eyes, she sees both Suguru and Satoru sitting on stage as another member speaks to the crowd. They immediately stare over her.

Their gaze locked onto her as she entered the church late, having somehow missed the sermon in its entirety. They looked almost…disappointed. But it had nothing to do with her punctuality.

Everyone begins to walk in different directions as service ends. She also realizes that she has no notes to give Suguru today as she awaits to speak with him. When she walks up to him, she immediately begins to apologize, “I’m sorry for my lateness, Father.”

His gaze was like a hawk. He said nothing as she apologized, instead he watched her lips move as she spoke, admiring the way they moved, how they'd look covered with his.

"That's alright" he finally spoke, his voice a deep and seductive rasp, "Don't worry about it, though I'm curious, what were you doing that kept you so late?"

“You haven’t missed a sermon since we officially met you,” Satoru points out, arms crossed over his chest.

“I was up a bit late last night watching tv, overslept. Indulgence, I suppose, Father,” she briefly explains.

She places a flyaway hair behind her ear that falls from her ponytail, wondering why a couple of members stare at her weirdly. She had never noticed the large hickey that was upon her neck, or that the stranger she’d slept with had given her one.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at this excuse. His eyes drift to the blotched spot on her neck, Satoru shaking his head. He noticed the way she fidgets nervously, taking in the fact that she hadn't noticed the mark herself. The look of slight amusement and disappointment were once again evident on his features.

"You were up late… watching tv,” Suguru repeated back to her, mocking her excuse.

She looks around, confused in everyone's eyes. “….Yes, Father,” she nodded, softly responding.

"Ah, I see..." Satoru’s smile widens, "And what was it that you were watching on tv that kept you up?”

His gaze remained locked on hers, his tone shifting to teasing and playful. She wanted to punch him.

“Documentary. Very uh…informational?” She tries to find her words, gripping the notebook in her hand.

“Very informative, huh?” Suguru questions.

“Why so many damn questions?” She becomes irritated, seeing they’re now playing with her.

Satoru shrugs, “Boredom peaks curiosity,” He reminds.

In reality they were just trying to tease her, to make her squirm as she tried to lie. There was definitely no documentary she watched, that much they both knew.

“I suppose you don’t remember getting this as you watched your show, right?” Suguru asks, lifting his hand as he dragged his thumb along her throat. Solana’s mouth parted as she froze, realizing he was referring to a hickey.

“I…I don’t…”

“You d—don’t?” Satoru mocks.

She glares as she thrashes Suguru’s hand away from her. He pulls away, placing his hand behind his back.

“Your show didn’t seem too...satisfying” Satoru eyes, grinning.

Suguru’s gaze remained on her neck nonetheless, his eyes slowly wandering to her face as he waited for her response. Would she admit what really happened? She refused to give them the satisfaction.

“Nothing to say?” Suguru prods.

“No,” she quickly replies, feeling her body becoming hot. A mixture of anger and arousal fills her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him, or fuck him. Maybe both.

“Fine. See you next time, then?” Satoru’s voice is sweet, more fake than anything.

As they begin to walk away from her, Solana closes her eyes. Embarrassing herself like this was enough to realize it was time to come clean, hoping this would rid her of all the vivid images of them. She just wanted them to stop. She places her own hand over her neck, remembering the hickey.

She squeezes her notebook harder as she states, “Wait, Father Suguru…I had a question for you.”

His expression shifted to one of curiosity, he could sense her sudden nervousness in speaking to him.

"Go ahead, what's the question?"

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I have something I need penitents of. Would you…be here later tonight for a confessional?” She questions.

The sudden question surprised him. He expected this game to continue. Yet, she had requested a confessional, a place where one could go to share their deepest and darkest secrets with a priest. It was obvious that what she was hiding more than sleeping with another man, there were darker things at play.

He nodded shortly, "I’ll be here. Satoru will be in the presence of his first confessional and listen in, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s…fine. That’s perfect, actually,” she nods.

“Perfect?” Satoru questions.

She realizes how she spoke. She wanted to kick herself. She then ignores the smile on his face as she speaks, “I will see you guys later then,” turning as she nearly runs out of the church.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

She stood in the mirror, staring at herself in her bathroom. Nightfall had come quicker than she hoped for it to, her heart swelling with fear of all the possibilities to come from this admission. Her midnight hair fell around her face, almost straight, still having a bit of body to it. She stared at the black dress she wore, turning in the mirror as her entire back was shown, washing her vision over the religious tattoo on her spine. Did it mean anything to her?

She slipped on her golden chromatic heels, hot pink irises seated atop of the thin straps. Her skin smelled of vanilla and a mixture of mint, always wanting to present herself with a sense of confidence. That confidence was nowhere to be found as of right now. Where had it gone?

All of these thoughts entered her mind as she drove down the road. What if she told them how she felt? Would she be banned from the church, shunned by the congregation? Declared as a personified sinner?

Unlike a regular church service, the entire cathedral is empty. The pews travel as far as the eye can see, walls a dimly lit champagne color. Her eyes fall to a mahogany wooden shed, two large crosses carved into the doors on both sides. It looked bigger than a regular confessional box. As she slid the door open to her side, she entered to see that it was big enough to fit almost five people, turning her head to see there was a large mirror across from where she would be seated.

As she looks through the wall that separates the two sides, she sees a pair of silhouettes, seeming as Suguru and Satoru are already there. Her heart beats faster.

She sits herself on the bench connected to the walls, bringing her eyes over her own reflection. Looking at herself suddenly makes her uncomfortable. She can see them on the other side, their eyes not facing her. It makes her feel less judged.

She asks, “May I know why my confessional has a mirror, Father?” She asks softly.

His silhouette moved as she spoke, the sound of her voice was more alluring than he had expected.

"The mirror is meant to allow you a clear view of yourself as you confess your sins. It’s intended to remind you to face yourself,” Suguru explains.

“Your face will be forced to stare directly at those sins as you speak of them. It’ll lead to self reflection,” Satoru adds.

She lets out a breath, nodding more to herself. Silence now fills the space, a tension she hadn’t expected to be so thick casts in between the wall separating the three.

“Speak your penitent,” Suguru’s deep voice demands.

A fear creeps up her spine. She couldn’t believe that she was actually doing this. Fuck it, she figured.

“Bless me, Father. For I have sinned…” she speaks, lightly crossing her hand over her chest.

Both Suguru and Satoru previously watched her as the confessional door slid open, watching her reflection as she sat inside, the dress she wears already making them think there was so much more to explore. They could only imagine what secrets hid under her loosely flowing hair, the tattoo on her back, and the way that dress draped off her form - highlighting the perfect curves of her body.

"Go ahead" Suguru spoke through the small slit in the confessional, his eyes gazing at her reflection in the mirror as he awaited her words.

“Right. Okay,” Solana takes another deep breath.

“Well…when you asked me about how my night went, I lied about what happened. I…had sex with a man I met at the bar…” she confesses softly.

“The sex was meaningless—and boring—if that’s appropriate to add. I thought that it would help me shake this feeling I’ve been having for a while. This…itch that I haven’t been able to scratch…”

Suguru listened. He didn't seem shocked, he didn't even seem disappointed—if anything he was unsurprised by it. As she mentioned the sex being meaningless and her inability to shake the "itch,” Satoru couldn't help the smirk that covered his lips.

They knew precisely what she was thinking yet stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.

“I…” she breathed in, “Ever since I joined this congregation, I’d been having these…feelings. My mind filled itself with these vivid images and fantasies of sexual endeavors that become filthier as they continue, and I’ve been trying to parish them away. But…I can’t,” she speaks, unable to look into her reflection as she keeps her eyes against her lap, looking over to the wall that separates their bodies. She’s glad she can’t see them.

"Is there more that you want to confess?" Suguru spoke, his voice firm.

“Yes….” She spoke, “These…images, fantasies, I….I’d been having them of you and Father Satoru. Ever since I came here, I thought you were both immensely attractive. But I didn’t think that allowing myself to be physically attracted to the both of you would cause all of these imageries. I would imagine myself having filthy sex with you—anytime you stood in front of the congregation. For that…I’m sorry,” she keeps her head down.

She awaits for his voice, preparing for the disgust of her words. Instead, she hears nothing. Absolutely nothing. She lifts her head to look on the other side of the box, seeing that it’s now empty. Shit, did she really mess up that badly?

“…Father?” She then calls, hearing nothing in response.

She waits a few moments, still hearing nothing. She feels terrible. She shouldn’t have come at all—Maybe she should’ve just never returned to the church. As she stands to leave, her heart jumps out of her chest. The door to the confessional opens and quickly shuts, both Suguru and Satoru now standing in this space with her. Trapping her with them. Her breath catches in her throat as the door slams shut, the air in the cramped space becoming thick with the heat of three bodies.

Their gaze fixated upon her as they lean against the wall of the confessional box opposite of her, their frames dominating the confined space.

“Tell me exactly what you’re apologizing for, Solana,” Suguru firmly initiates.

“I don’t think I should be having these thoughts about…wanting to have sex with the both of you. And I do,” she swallows, “Your church members already have this idea of me. I see the way they look at me when I come in here. I could only think what you or Father Satoru would have to say—especially after my confession.”

“I think you’re honest,” Suguru observes.

They can almost see the relief weigh off of her shoulders at his response. But as she looks between them, it seems to be more that she’s missing.

Satoru then speaks up, “Poor baby. This has really been bothering you, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” she softly agrees. “So—“

“So we’ll just fuck you, then.” Suguru states, promises.

Solana’s eyes go slightly wide as she stutters, “What?”

“That’s what you want, right?”

Satoru fully extends, coming forward as he hovers his frame over her smaller one. She steps back as she nearly trips over the bench, holding herself steady as she feels Satoru’s hand come upon her hip, making sure she doesn’t fall.

“I—“

“I know that’s what you want, Solana. I just need to hear you say it,” Suguru speaks up, capturing her throat within his palms, digging his fingers lightly into the skin. She now has both men holding a part of her, her body completely on fire at their simple touch. They were inviting her into a dangerous situation. She could admit—she wanted every part of it.

“Yes,” She muttered softly.

“Look at me and say that,” he grips her face tighter, forcing her eyes to look into his.

“Yes, fuck me,” she repeated, more firm. Meaning it.

“Good,” Suguru leans down, slamming his lips along hers.

Her throat mewls at the warmth of his mouth. She’d never had a man kiss her like this. He had a grip on the back of her neck as he leaned down, sensually thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth for her to catch it, eyes closing as she moaned softly at the feeling. His lips were warm and his tongue was even warmer as it danced within her mouth, exploring every possible crevice— every space that it had access to. His grip on her only tightened, trapping her completely in the embrace of his hand as his body pressed closer to hers.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” Satoru asked, harshly pulling her away from Suguru’s mouth. He stuck his tongue out which caused her to lean forward, sucking his tongue within her mouth, his lips plush and soft as he smashed them together, softer and more sensual than the first kiss she shared. It’s like he was trying to absorb her scent, inhaling the mixture of vanilla and mint. She was like a drug.

“Look at how responsive she is…” Satoru taunts, bringing his mouth down to her throat, sucking the skin into his lips. Solana’s eyes fluttered shut as she whimpered softly, hearing Suguru’s voice as he replied, “We’ve barely touched her.”

Satoru now stands behind her as Suguru stands in front, both beginning to remove the vestments they wore. They then help her remove her dress, their eyes hungry as her brown nipples perk out, figure even better without clothing. Solana’s eyes come to the mirror behind them as she sees his back is covered in ink, shadowing any of his olive toned skin. His hair that was in a half bun began falling around his attractive face, it felt almost too intimate to stare. Satoru stood behind her, skin clean and soft, body sculpted perfectly to her touch. They were fucking beautiful. Hands roamed all around her body, lips along her chest, while another pair bit into her shoulder. It was overwhelming in the best way.

“Hold her up. You want my tongue?” Suguru’s eyes raise to hers, she quickly nods.

“You’re forgetting to say please,” he reminds. Satoru places his arms under the back of her legs, effortlessly lifting her up as her back is now against his chest, legs bending upwards in the air.

“Please,” she becomes slightly irritated at how he wants things his way. Her breath hitches as Satoru somehow pulls her arms with her legs, keeping her firmly stuck in his hold.

“Wanna try again?” Suguru raises an eyebrow as he hears her attitude. He lightly smacks his palm against her face, shoving his fingers down her throat as he brings his face close to hers, dominance pooling into her veins.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is small as she inhales deeply from his actions, wanting more from him, “Please, baby. I want your tongue.”

“Next time I won’t be so nice,” he promises, traveling his soaked fingers down her body, rubbing her puffy clit. She wanted to clasp her thighs closed, Satoru behind her as his tongue drags along her ear, teasing her as she moans prettily. Her sounds are like angels singing, even as condescending as that might’ve been.

Suguru takes his index and middle finger as he sinks them inside her, moaning with Solana as she pulls him in deeper, her walls gripping him as if never wanting to let him go. She brought her eyes up to the mirror and watched as his fingers shoved in and out.

Satoru’s now in her ear as he chuckles sultrily, “Look at that, baby,” he talks to her, “I think she wants more.”

“I want more,” she mewls, “Please.”

“Give her what she wants,” Satoru commands.

Suguru leans down as he removes his fingers from her, capturing her clit within his mouth as he sucks softly. He goes slow, allowing the pleasure to hit every nerve within her body, rotating his head in circles as his tongue drags all along her core, saliva creating against tastebuds.

She leans her head against Satoru’s shoulder as she begs, “Kiss me,” he does without argument.

Suguru’s tongue doesn’t slow down, diving in and out of her, fucking her with his mouth as he moans against her, kissing her clit passionately in the same way he made out with her.

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby. This some crazy shit” he groans, spanking her skin as Satoru holds her hips up higher, Suguru’s tongue delving deeper.

“Suguru…oh—shit,” she whined, wanting to grip his hair yet her hands were still trapped. Her back arches as she could only see the back of his head from the mirror, watching as he pleasured her. Satoru’s grip was tight, ensuring that her body didn't move around or move away from Suguru, arch becoming stronger.

He snaked his hand up to her face, pulling it downwards as he spoke, “Watch me.”

His breath was hot against her opening as he maintained eye contact. "Look at what I'm doing to you... Look at how you’re moaning from just my mouth…” he talks to her, slamming his palm along her thigh, watching the skin become red as he rutted his lips against her core.

Her hips swayed against his face, hair around her neck making her hot. She responded petulantly, “I’m watching, baby…I promise…”

“Good.”

He brought his free hand up to her chest, cupping the breast within his hand, squeezing and kneading the soft skin. She felt her lower stomach becoming tight. Her abdomen stiffened as she gripped Suguru’s hair, filthily spouting within his mouth. She was unable to hold herself back as her eyes rolled in her head, shuddering as she watched him dipping his tongue inside her, eating like she’d be ripped away from his hold at any second.

He stands up, gripping her face as he kisses her, sucking her lower lip before he pulls back, “Tell me who you want to fuck you first.”

“You, Suguru.” She whimpers.

“Fuck her, Satoru.” Suguru easily denies.

Satoru drops her legs that feel like jelly, her feet now flat on the ground. Hands bend her over whilst pushing her back inwards, watching as it perfectly arches. Light eyes took in the way her hips curved perfectly in his hands. He lowers himself down as he brings his mouth between her legs, Solana lightly jumping at the intrusion. She has no time to react as she feels a hand on her chin, pulling her eyes upwards to look at Suguru.

“She doesn’t deserve to have her pussy ate again. You remember how bad her mouth was?” Suguru reminds. Solana’s eyes close as Satoru gently laps between her folds, fondling the skin of her ass.

“Put something in it, then. This isn’t for her,” Satoru commands, attaching his mouth back onto her.

“I’ll ruin her throat,” he responds back.

“She’ll love it.”

“I know she fucking will,” Suguru gruffly responds, wrapping his free hand around his length as he forcefully opens her mouth, shoving himself to the back of her throat. Her mouth feels full, no room to adjust as he collects her hair in his fist, yanking her back and forth against his hips. She salivated, going to wrap her hands around him as Satoru gripped both of her wrists in one hand behind her. Suguru pulls her down farther, Solana choking as he slammed his tip against her uvula, her eyes watering at his movements. But Satoru was right about one thing. She did love it.

“Look at you, baby,” Suguru moans, gritting his teeth as she hummed against him, bobbing her head lightly from the little control she had. Her lips were becoming a pouty red. She could feel his nails digging within her scalp, tilting his head down to watch as he fucked her face roughly.

Satoru extends to his full height, taking himself within his hand, placing the other on Solana’s hip to angle her properly. His tip taps along her clit, kissing the pulsing throb. She became more aroused than before.

He slides himself in, Solana’s eyes fluttering shut as she moaned against Suguru’s length that was still driving within her mouth. She slows down the pleasure she gives to him, feeling as if Satoru is just as big as Suguru, if not bigger. He stretches her, her lower abdomen burning from the feeling, a stronger sense of pleasure overcoming the pain.

He starts off slow, only pulling halfway out as he pushes in deeper the second time, Solana shouting as he spanks her, “Open up for me. I’ll fuck you good.”

She tries to relax, Suguru holding her head as he asks, “When did I tell you to stop?”

Taking the both of them was something she didn’t imagine struggling with. Satoru places his hand on her shoulder as he pulls her back against him, the back of her thighs creating a squelching sound from how wet she already was. He keeps his other hand wrapped around her fists, moaning lowly as she grips every inch that deeply pounds into her. Her eyes remained closed as Suguru pounds her face on the other end, her jaw painfully twitching yet she opened her mouth wider, moaning at every movement.

“She feels fuckin’ amazing,” Satoru grunts, “Keep fucking her mouth. It makes her more wet.”

“Fuck her harder,” Suguru counters.

And they did. Satoru snaps his hips into her, the rhythm perfect as her mouth meets with Suguru’s hips each time. She moans with every thrust, body trembling each time Satoru slams his palm on her ass, each time Suguru slams his palm on her cheek. She mewls again, her body nearly relaxing in this position, lower abdomen trembling.

“She’s gonna cum,” Satoru eyes, never stopping his movements of fucking her.

“She better fuckin’ not,” Suguru threatens.

“Come fuck her. She wants you more. Don’t you?” Satoru pulls her upwards, her feet nearly off of the ground as he wraps both of his hands around her throat from behind. Her hips bounce against his own, her eyes closing as she whimpers, “Satoru.”

“Call my name like that again, baby. Maybe I’ll believe you. What happened? I thought you wanted Suguru?” He talks to her, clasping her throat under his palms, throwing her body back and forth against his length, Solana gripping his fingers that have a tight hold against her. She grunts in response, her voice trailing into a whine as she cries softly, “No, baby. I want you, too. Feels so…fucking…good…”

“I know,” he agrees.

“Oh, you don’t want me no more?” Suguru then asks, wrapping his fingers atop of Satoru’s that still sit on her throat, helping as he drags her down, slamming her back down onto Satoru’s hips.

“Can’t ever forget you, Suguru. Come fuck me, baby. I miss you,” she babbles. Her voice causes Suguru to grunt, kissing her aggressively at her pleads.

Satoru finally releases her. Suguru then effortlessly pulls her up to him, bringing her legs over his shoulders as he stands at his full height. Her body shivers as she feels hit tip, fat and throbbing against her opening. Her eyes close as he slowly slides her down, her mouth dropping open as he feels huge, stretching her so far that she thought she’d tear. His eyes flick down to hers to watch, Solana able to see her own pleasure within the mirror. She sees his perfectly sculpted back, resting her arms along his neck as her nails connected against the ink upon it, digging her fingers into his skin.

His hips moved slowly, the small movements he made were almost methodical as he leaned more into the sensation of her body meeting his. With his back fully visible to her through the mirror, she was able to completely take in his physique, watching the way that his muscles flexed as he moved. They watched each other, seeing him slowly thrust himself into her body, back still as stiff as a board yet with Solana in his limbs, he had a slight sway to him.

“Oh…my—“ she breathes in deeply, unable to speak as she stared into his face, nodding her head since her voice couldn’t do anything to help.

“You’re not so shy anymore, are you?” Suguru taunts her, lifting her body up with ease as he sinks her back down. Their bodies continue to move in rhythm, his hips picking up speed as he moves more intensely against her. She struggles to hold on, nails digging into his back as she brings her eyes down, watching his length go in and out of her. She was completely enthralled by him.

“Stop it…” she panted.

“She can’t take it. She’s going to take it,” Satoru speaks behind them, lightly kissing her neck as he grips her hair in his fist, pulling her up slightly.

“C’mon, pretty girl. You did so well taking my dick. You want more, huh?”

“Yes,” she bites her lip, groaning at his words. The back of her thighs slam against the front of Suguru as he grips her ass tightly in his palms, her skin clapping with his as he becomes rougher with every thrust.

“Then watch him. Look how he’s fucking you. I think you like the way he handles you,” he pulls the ponytail he’s created in her hair, Solana seeing as Suguru’s length disappears and then reappears again.

She listened. She watched intensely between their hips as he pulled out slowly, slamming her back down quickly. Fingers gripped his arms as she tilted her head down to watch, hair falling around her face. Her eyes rolled entirely to the back of her head as she spoke. She cried softly, “Oh my god…” groaning as if she were annoyed, “Yes. Yes. Fuck me just like that, I love bouncing on your dick like this, baby,” she hiccuped.

Her face was completely red. As she scanned Suguru’s eyes, she could see a sudden cockiness within him—and slowly, a grin spread across his face. It was the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen.

Both men laugh arrogantly, Satoru reaching around as he rubs her clit, Solana’s head falling back against his shoulder as she couldn’t stop herself from moaning.

“Calling god now? Shame. Seems like she needs more penitents,” Suguru laughs, humored at the loss of her pride.

“He can’t help you here…” Satoru talks within her ear, echoing into her mind.

It was as if she was drunk, babbling against the both of them, allowing them to have full control over her. Her head continued to spin, eyes captivated of his strength, legs over his shoulders flailing with every movement. Her nails dug into his back, free hand shoving her own fingers into her mouth as she sucked, moaning loudly against them.

“I’m gonna….”

“Cum. She’s gonna cum. Let her,” Satoru finishes.

“Nah. I’m not with the sweet shit. She better wait,” Suguru shakes his head.

He pulls out of her, Solana shivering as they quickly change positions. She looks down as Suguru is now beneath her, Satoru placing his length in front of her face.

“Come sit on my dick. I’ll make you squirt like this,” Suguru demands, pulling her down. He wraps his hands around her waist as he’s already shoving himself into her.

“Wanna feel your throat, baby,” Satoru speaks sweetly, separating her mouth as he pushes his tip past her lips. She complies, growing more horny by the second as she circles her hips atop of Suguru, taking her hand as she wraps it around the base of Satoru, sucking him within her own pleasure.

“Even through all this…you’re still so good…” Suguru grunts, spanking her.

Satoru strokes her face gently, seeing as tears drop from her eyes, not knowing how much longer she was going to be able to handle the both of them. She grips her own breast with her other hand, Suguru snatching the hand away as he replaces it with his palm, squeezing as he thrusts upwards into her.

“Relax, pretty girl. You wanna cum?” Satoru asks from above, rubbing her face to relax her, Solana nodding as she sobs softly, unable to do anything but take what was given to her.

“You’re lucky you have him. I’d make you cry like a fuckin’ baby,” Suguru spits.

“She already is. She looks so cute,” Satoru tells him, “You can cum, baby. I’m close too.”

“She’s creaming. Never had dick like this, have you? You’ll want more. You’ll be back,” Suguru promises once again, holding her firmly as grinds her against him, Solana’s hips involuntarily wining.

“Imagine what the congregation will think when they hear how good you take my dick. How you whine for more. Satoru was right, you are fuckin’ greedy.”

That was enough for her. Neither of them stop as she thrashes atop of Suguru, sobbing loudly as she orgasms, core squelching as she gushes against his length. Suguru laughs, spanking her so hard that it leaves a bruise.

As both men continue their non-stop fulfillment of pleasure, they watch as she relaxes, just wanting to be so good for them. They felt satisfied, able to break her in the way they imagined. Both men grunt, Satoru moaning as he holds Solana’s chin, pulling back as he shoots against her beautiful face. Suguru moans after, pulling out of her as he pulls her forward, cumming along her ass, gripping the flesh in his palm.

They all pant against one another, Solana wanting to feel embarrassed. She wanted to feel like this was the biggest mistake she’d made in her life. Yet, she felt the complete opposite. She felt trapped within these men, and she damn sure didn’t want out.

“I think you two might be the devil…” she breathes heavily.

“What if we told you that we were? What if we told you we were the worst people you’d ever met?” Satoru teases, Suguru chuckling in response.

“I think I might believe you.”

“Good,” Suguru replies, Solana jumping as he pulls her down by her neck, lips nearly touching hers as he speaks a deafening sentence.

“‘Cause we’re not done with you yet.”

[merakiui]

eden.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, non-con, captivity, obsession, menophilia/period sex, vague references to the story of adam & eve note - a self-indulgent paradise crafted by rollo's generous, gracious hand.

Silvery slivers of moonlight spill through the space in the curtains, illuminating the fluffy sheets you’re currently entangled in. A sharp sting in your abdomen rouses you from your dreamless slumber, so agonizing it causes you to slowly curl in on yourself. Miserable and defeated, you groan and bury your face in the neighboring pillow. Now muffled, the sound can only carry on for however much capacity your lungs possess. It eventually fizzles out into a solemn, silent resignation that forces you to accept the third day of the monthly curse that is the menstrual cycle.

It’s a natural facet of your biology, but that doesn’t stop you from moping when you register the slick sensation between your legs.

This wouldn’t be an issue if he got me pads or tampons, you think, bitter with resentment and worn to exhaustion even though you’ve only just woken.

Awkwardly, you attempt to sit up and pull the covers back to check the damage. Rollo’s sheets are always spotless and fresh; he washes them every two weeks on Sunday afternoons, dedicated to following his schedule down to the letter. But then the pain persists, stabbing through to your very organs, and you resume your pitiful fetal position in hopes that the severity may abate.

It does, but you think you’re just tricking yourself into believing so.

You can feel the blood soaking through your white nightgown, and the sodden fabric molds itself to your rear in a very unpleasant way. Shuddering, you blink back tears.

I wanna go home.

Home, as it happens, has felt less and less temporary with each passing month spent in Twisted Wonderland. You’ve come to associate the familiarity of Night Raven College and its student body with comfort and contentment. It’s your home away from home. A long, long way from home. But it’s all you’ve ever had since the Dark Mirror beckoned you forth, and it’s served as your solace for a while.

Initially, you felt trapped and alone, uncertain of your fate and what this could mean for your life. But now you realize that no amount of feeling stuck at school could ever compare to this—to real confinement.

Your capture and, subsequently, your captor’s inexplicable infatuation are the result of arbitrary observation. In his frigid, heavy-eyed stare, you fit the criteria for a definition of purity he has constructed for his own abstract conduct. Untouched by magic, unable to conjure even the simplest spell, you are the speck of hope within Pandora’s box—a blessing enshrouded in sin.

“It must be taxing to live amongst mages so often,” he had said, as if to extend sympathy.

Foolishly, not quite understanding where those words were coming from, you replied in jest, “Believe me, it is. The amount of times I’ve nearly been caught in the crossfire when my friends get into heated arguments… Yikes.”

Rollo Flamme is a righteous man, and thus it is his duty to build a pristine paradise for you. An Eden of his own creation, its sole purpose to safeguard you from the pollution that is magic and, by extension, mages.

But purity cannot be found here, for Rollo is a devil in this garden. Potted plants adorn the floor; it’s something of a floral jungle, filling the room with perfumed scents and pretty sights. You’ve made note of their habits—of every flower that wilts and rises once it’s watered, of every petal that pries itself open under the moon’s glow and closes come sunrise, of every stem that’s trimmed to prevent excess.

Rollo Flamme prefers tidy spaces, so this well-kept garden is sterile and peaceful. You’ve likened it to a morgue filled with dead things—or soon-to-be dead things, as most plants cannot thrive forever no matter how diligent the botanist.

He barked a humorless, monosyllabic laugh at your declaration. “Unless you’ve chosen to view yourself as a rotting corpse, which you are not, your comparison is both unwarranted and untrue,” he muttered, and that was the final utterance of that subject.

Conversations with Rollo are always impossible, which is why you’re dreading this next one when he turns the key in the lock. The sound is like a gunshot in an empty room: explosive. As if echoing your discomfort, your cramps worsen in their intensity and you suck in a shaky breath through grit teeth. You hear the door shut and lock, sentencing you to an exchange with an unwanted warden. He walks into a mostly serene scene, his glacial gaze sweeping across the room to pick apart any interruptions in this slice of Shangri-La.

“I’ve brought dinner,” he announces, and you lift your head to peer at the tray in his hands.

“I don’t want your grapes and croissants,” you spit. “I want something warm.”

“It is warm.” Stepping closer, he sets the tray on his desk. You spy wispy tendrils rising from a bowl of soup. “Sit up and eat before it goes cold.”

You attempt that, halfway up on your elbows, but then your abdomen tightens and you slump back into the sheets. “Hurts,” you whine, clutching your stomach.

Rollo sniffs at the air, brows furrowing. His shoes click out an even rhythm against the floorboards, stopping at your bedside. Without ceremony he yanks the duvet away and you hiss at him, humiliated even though it’s normal. Your skin prickles with a chill, and it’s made even worse when you see the fiery glint in his eyes—the perceptive sort of glaze that overtakes his pupils when he’s observing you. His eyes crawl down your figure, stopping at the stain sullying your satin nightgown.

“Ah, you’ve leaked.”

“Obviously,” you snap. “I did this yesterday, too. When are you going to get me pads? Or tampons? I’ll even take a towel at this point or toilet paper. Anything is better than this.”

Rollo shakes his head. “You’re perfectly fine as you are.”

“Free bleeding like this is filthy and unsanitary.”

“So I’ll simply clean you.”

You drag your hand down your face and groan. “Rollo, please. It hurts, and it’s wet and uncomfortable.”

“You’ve illustrated these points more than clearly.”

“So then… Then do something about it!”

He narrows his eyes at you, silently taking issue with your demand, before he hums his consideration. His face settles into something neutral while he removes his hat and shoes, dutifully setting them in their respective places.

Rollo surprises you when he climbs onto the bed, kneeling over you with the tiniest trace of a smile.

“Spread your legs. I’ll have a look.”

Fresh horror blooms on your already distraught countenance. You bickered with him over this yesterday when he’d brought a wet rag to your inner thigh, seething at you to stay still while he wiped you down. You’d wrestled with him for ownership of the rag, insisting in panicked huffs that you could do it yourself. Your slap had rung out in the silence, rendering Rollo stiff with stormy emotions. He’d relinquished the rag, scoffing at you for being ungrateful and resolving to scribble in his diary for the rest of the day—a prisoner to his own silent treatment.

Now, as his cold fingertips creep up your legs, you feel less hungry and more sick.

Weakly, you shake your head at him, sinking deeper into the pillows. “I… I can do it myself…”

“With what? The nightgown you’ve already dirtied?” He tilts his head at you and smiles an odd smile. You can’t place it, whether it’s smug or sweet, but it soon becomes the former when he throws your words right back at you: “That’s filthy and unsanitary.”

“You don’t have anything either,” you retort, only to grimace once more.

Rollo exhales through his nose, amusement flashing in his dreary eyes. “Because I’m not going to clean you. Not yet.”

Ice crystalizes within your veins, and the tension in your legs slackens enough for him to pull them apart. “What?”

His hands stray dangerously close. You stiffen, nerves tangling with panic. “There are ways to alleviate menstrual cramps. You should be aware of them, so I see no need to go into detail.”

“I know, yes, but—” You swallow thickly and push his reaching fingers away before they can curl around the hem of your nightgown. “Rollo, please don’t…”

“You’ll feel better,” he assures you matter-of-factly, whispering the words like that will change anything. “This is better than medicine and safer than magic.”

You shift beneath him, unsettled. “A… A hot compress will do. Y-You’ll get yourself dirty. Also! A-Also… If we don’t wash the sheets soon, it’ll stain.”

“Let it. It will serve as a reminder to both of us. A reminder that, though you may ruin these sheets with all manner of bodily fluids, they will still remain pure.” He lifts your nightgown, leaning close to your ear while palming at your stomach. You angle yourself away from him, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s because you’re perfect and clean, untainted by magic, that you are able to exist here. I envy you…”

His bare hand is cold against your warm belly and it travels lower, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties. You stifle a whine, tears welling up behind your eyelids.

“Rollo…”

“Even your voice…” He inhales deeply, high off the scent of you—metallic and pungent, a natural musk more enticing than any flowery perfume. “Everything about you is so clean, even the very blood that pools between your legs… Just a moment in your embrace is enough to wash away the layers of filth that accumulate on my person. Perhaps you might even manage to scrub beneath my skin, wash out every ounce of magic that rests within… Would that I could, I’d break myself into pieces so that you may reassemble me—build a better me. A me without magic. If only…”

His other hand slithers into yours, squeezing tight. You’re arrested by the strain in his tone when he speaks next, so full of yearning and desperation. Covetous. Shameless.

“If only.”

“R-Rollo, please stop…”

“Yes… Yes, of course,” he babbles, nodding to himself. “I’ve likened you to a concept—to purity alone—but you are more than that. The embodiment of it… An angel. Otherworldly, immune to the poisonous effects of magic… Yes, that is what you are. An angel bereft of flaws.”

He fishes his celestial-patterned handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to your lips next. Your eyes snap open to find him now much closer than before, and you have but a moment to brace yourself before he leans in. The kiss is indirect, the both of you separated by the cloth, but the intention is there. It sticks to you even after he’s lowered the handkerchief. You are too pure and he is too filthy, which is why your lips must never touch.

Contradictory because he’s kissed you before.

Rollo drags your blood-soaked panties down to your knees. You shudder like a frail leaf caught in autumn’s harsh breeze.

“I’ve saved you—freed you!—from those…those villains. So you must allow me to indulge.” He shakes his head, his licentious, lustful stare smoldering to such a scorching degree it brands impure, unhealthy love upon your bare flesh. “I will indulge because I have been nothing but agreeable. This—” his fingers brush your slick folds, testing the waters— “is a wonder no magic could ever hope to reproduce. This is just you. Perfect, pretty, pure you…”

Experimentally, his digits dip shallowly inside. You flinch and inhale a sharp, frantic breath, your stomach somersaulting and knotting itself all at once. Complicated feelings stir within you as you writhe under his invasive touch. Your effort to escape is halfhearted; it’s too painful to move, so instead you attempt to clamp your legs shut. He tuts at you and slips his hand out from your hold to pet along your thigh.

“There goes a certain tale,” Rollo says, breathless as he continues his patient exploration. His eyes rove over your pussy like he intends to imprint it in his memory, and he doesn’t shy away from the crimson rivulet that runs down his palm when he sinks his fingers in further. You grit your teeth, melting against the pillows like an angel stamped in snow, and your free hand strangles a fistful of sheets. “In which a pair lived together in paradise, but it was temptation that ultimately led to their downfall. It is a doomed narrative.”

You’re breathing heavily now, your eyes flicking from the ceiling to the many plants that surround you on all sides, each one in full bloom. It feels as if you’re on a bed-turned-boat in a sea of greenery.

A sea of divine fertility.

With a skillful curl the two fingers delve deeper, pressing up against your gummy walls. Against your better judgment, you whine, loud and bawdy. His touch soothes, but then it stings. It makes you want to peel yourself open and step out of your skin so that you may subject it to a vigorous washing. It makes you despise the scent of flowers. It makes you fear the sound of the bell as it tolls unfailingly every single day. It makes you wish you’d never opened your mouth to respond to his words all those weeks ago.

Tears slip from your lash line. “Stop… Please stop…”

“Perhaps this is that same story made modern. Perhaps you were sculpted specially for me and I for you.” A third finger joins the other two working you open. Paper-pale skin is coated in brilliant vermillion, the very color of ardent desire. “Perhaps we are destined to fall together, born anew in someplace purer…”

The slow, steady drag of his fingers is more tempting than the ripe redness between your thighs, and you force yourself to gaze sidelong at the soup sitting abandoned on his desk. He plucks at each of your tangled, dewy strings, unraveling them with graceful strokes, and you’re pulled along on the blissfully uncomfortable current, treading between someplace grounded in reality and fantasy.

From above, at the bird’s eye view, you have become a garden for Rollo’s twisted whimsy.

You return to yourself when he eases his fingers out, stalling for a silent beat, before he thrusts them back in in one fluid motion. It punches the air from your lungs, has you throwing your head back with a weepy howl. He watches this with fierce scrutiny, curious at a clinical level.

“You’re beautiful,” he admits, spreading his fingers inside you. “My world. My panacea. My angel.”

“No… No, no.” You sob, your chest heaving with every wail. You can smell yourself on the air, the sharp scents of iron and sweat. Your pussy weeps blood, devastated at the hands of a monster, and yet it can’t stop affixing itself to him. A mold meant to suit his design. “Please… Please take it out.”

A shadow of contemplation passes over Rollo’s flushed countenance and then he’s reaching over to dry your tears, dabbing at your face with his handkerchief. “You’re okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore, right?”

You shake your head in protest rather than respond, chewing your bottom lip to shreds. A feeble whine slips through and you arch into him when his thumb presses down into your clit and prods at your hood. It happens all too fast. You tighten and loosen all at once, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. The sheets are soaked through and properly soiled now, but that fact doesn’t lessen the seismic ecstasy that drapes itself over you like a veil. Your vision whites out and you fall, fall, fall through the waning vestiges.

Your heart drops into your stomach at the realization.

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

“You’ve done well.” He slides his fingers out, and the gooey squelching wrings a shudder from you. This time he grants you one of his rare smiles—the authentic, sincere kind—while he presses the pads of his fingers to his upturned lips, dyeing himself in your essence. You blink through encroaching tears, an ocean that obscures your vision and fuzzies his figure.

His fingers dig into the plush pudge of your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along your adductors. You open yourself again, involuntarily blossoming in this garden of iniquity.

“Good,” he praises again, whisper-soft. “You’re only permitted to be this way with me. Anyone else would simply tarnish your sweetness. They’d take advantage of your ability to cleanse even the foulest of filth. But I…”

Rollo, still clothed and now libidinous in his impatience, fumbles to pull himself free. His throbbing erection presses against your stomach, the final piece to force this puzzle to completion.

“I will always lay myself at your altar.”

You beg him not to, but every objection goes unheard. His hips connect with yours; he’s holding back, if only just barely, pressing onwards slowly, his breath coming in huffs and grunts. To savor it. To know the feeling firsthand and engrave it into his very being, from his fingers to his toes. To immerse himself in the red rain of a shackled angel.

To color a picturesque paradise in cardinal sin.

Just beyond the windows of Eden, swathed in midnight luminescence, a glorious city set aflame burns bright, overtaken by fiery flowers.

[lixiepixiedust]

I wanna show you off

pairing — idol!jeongin x f!reader (From the Unveiling Love series!)

word count — 5k

warnings — she/her reader, argument, hurt/comfort, exes (?) 2 lovers, jeongin is kinda toxic in a way but only slightly, suggestive themes (making out), reader is drunk, mentions of alcohol and night clubs, unwanted advances towards reader (not from jeongin)

summary — you and jeongin broke up after many arguments about how secret your relationship was. when you find yourself alone and uncomfortable at a club, jeongin comes to your rescue.

Inside the dance practice room, the tension between you and Jeongin was palpable. The air crackled with unspoken words, each movement echoing the silent storm brewing between you.

Jeongin's frustration boiled over, his voice piercing through the air like a knife. "Why do you always have to push me like this?!" he screamed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

You shot back, your own voice rising to match his intensity. "I'm tired of pretending like we're just friends when we're not! I want us to be open about us, about what we have!"

His eyes flashed with anger as he stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "You know why we can't do that! My career, my image, everything will be ruined if they find out about us!"

"I'm not asking you to shout it to the world or to all your fans, Jeongin! But can't you at least acknowledge us when we're with close friends? You won't even let me meet your own members," you pleaded, your voice tinged with hurt and frustration.

Jeongin's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with defiance. "You know it's not that simple. Our group's dynamic—it's delicate."

"Well, what about me? What about how I feel?" you countered, feeling the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. "I'm tired of knowing I'm not good enough to be shown off!"

Tears streamed down your cheeks, your heart aching. As he paced back and forth, his frustration palpable in the air.

When he finally spoke, his voice was still thick with anger, his words cutting through the air like shards of glass. "We can't do this anymore," he said, his tone final and resolute.

Your heart sank like a stone as his words echoed in the empty room. "What do you mean?" you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief.

"Us. We're not meant to be together, not like this."

The pain in his words was like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs as you struggled to comprehend what he was saying. "But… but I love you," you choked out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

He shook his head, "I'm sorry."

And with those final words, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the empty room, your heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Jeongin knew he was going to finish work late that day. He was filming a music video which was specifically designed for a nighttime setting, which explained the extended working hours. As the filming progressed, each frame meticulously captured, Jeongin's anticipation grew for work to be over. When the time arrived, he eagerly checked his phone, expecting a text from you. However, to no surprise, he was still left with nothing. A furrow formed on his brow as frustration settled in.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, yet he found himself yearning for your touch, your presence. After all, he had been the one to break things off, and it seemed unreasonable to expect you to reach out. He could still replay each word you said that night. All he wanted now was to hold you close, to reassure you that you were more than enough, that all he ever wanted to do was to protect you.

In the quiet moments of the night, he found himself grappling with the truth he had been avoiding: that despite his attempts to move on, he still loved you, still needed you in ways he couldn't admit even to himself.

He discreetly went to check your location, like he was committing a crime. To his surprise, he learned that you were currently at Hallyu, the most prestigious club in Gangnam favored by the wealthy, including his idol friends. Everyone knew that Hallyu held a reputation for discreet happenings, scandals, unspoken to the public. Whatever happens in Hallyu stays in Hallyu — or within the idols in general.

Going to Hallyu was a good way to unwind after a demanding comeback and promotional activities. Hallyu gets the busiest during the yearly break that most idols get, a time when companies are occupied with contract negotiations. This break becomes crucial for idols to rest, leaving the workload in the hands of their management departments.

What's interesting is that fans haven't realized that these are the only few weeks in the year with fewer comebacks, since everyone is on break. This trend usually happens around spring. During this time, new songs only come from smaller groups who are trying get noticed in the industry and earn revenue.

Jeongin ran a hand through his damp hair, his brows knit in concern. The unusual sight of you at Hallyu without him triggered a sense of worry. You had never ventured there without his company, and considering the strict entry policies, it puzzled him. The bouncers typically ensured you entered only in the presence of someone who was at least a little famous.

His mind raced through various scenarios—was there someone else with you? Perhaps an idol, an actor, or an obnoxiously rich man? He thought about it for a while. Surely you weren’t that poor yourself. Your family was fairly wealthy and your well-paying job provided a comfortable life for you. Yet, the thought of you gaining entry to Hallyu alone or with your everyday college friends seemed highly unlikely, as the club prioritized popularity over financial status. Lost in thought, Jeongin dedicated a considerable minute to pondering these perplexities, his gaze fixed on his phone screen.

"Jeongin," Hyunjin's voice called, pulling him from his contemplation. "You alright? You seem upset."

"No, um," he cleared his throat, still fixated on your icon on his phone screen. "I'm fine, just, um," he stammered. "Wanna go to Hallyu?" The question slipped out suddenly, and he shifted his gaze towards Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's eyes widened with a big smile, and Jeongin couldn't help but know exactly why he was so happy. Hyunjin had been begging for someone to join him at Hallyu. He’s always been quite a party animal. "Yes," he responded almost immediately. "Our hair already looks nice, and we're wearing…" Hyunjin eyed both of them, still clad in outfits from the music video shoot, not the most suitable attire for the club. "I'm sure we can find something hanging on the racks."

And indeed, Hyunjin was right. The stylist had left a few options for them. Jeongin, wanting to make a good impression, chose a clean white dress shirt that was unbuttoned down his chest. His hair had been professionally styled by the staff a few hours earlier, giving it a polished look. Jeongin couldn't help but notice your love for his growing-out hair—your tendency to run your fingers through it while cuddling and the smiles you had on your face when you made makeshift ponytails with his hair.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, a content smile crossed Jeongin's face. These efforts extended beyond just preparing for the club; they were a subtle declaration of his affection for you. Each choice, from the outfit to the hairstyle, was a deliberate attempt to present himself in a way that he knew would resonate with your taste and bring a smile to your face.

Hyunjin was prepared and looked exceptionally beautiful, as always. He carried a sultry vibe to him, enhanced by subtle details like the extra red on his lips and the fifty pounds of exquisite jewelry he made sure to put on.

As they prepared to head towards the car, Seungmin walked up from behind them, curiosity etched on his face. "Where are you two going?" he inquired. "The club," Hyunjin replied. "Alright, I'm coming with you," Seungmin decided. Jeongin gave a nod and a smile, patting Seungmin's shoulder gently before proceeding into the car. He also took charge of steering them to their destination.

"So Jeongin," Hyunjin questioned and leaned forward to the passenger seat where Jeongin was sitting. "Why the sudden change? You've always turned down the club."

Jeongin, with a casual shrug, replied, "Oh, I just haven't gone out in a while, you know? Figured tonight's the night."

Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows, detecting a hint of something unusual in Jeongin's tone. His suspicion grew, and his lips formed a pout. "Something's off," he thought.

Brushing off his concerns for the moment, Hyunjin turned to Seungmin. "And what about you? Why the sudden interest in going out tonight?" he asked.

Seungmin smirked and looked at the rear-view mirror. "Well, Jeongin's going, so why not join in the fun?"

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at Seungmin's response, fake offense crossing his features. "So, what you're saying is you only wanted to go because Jeongin's going? I see how it is. Making me feel a bit left out, are we?" he quipped.

Seungmin chuckled. "Well, you know, Jeongin's got that charm."

"I'm offended, but y'know Jeongin asked me first." Hyunjin teased.

"Oh, by the way, wanna know something funny?" Seungmin suddenly mentioned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. With a sly grin, he began, "So, last weekend, I went to another club with this girl. Worst decision ever. The club itself was a disaster and she was just too much, you know?"

Hyunjin, intrigued, leaned towards Seungmin. "Who was it?" he urged.

Seungmin, with a smirk, teased, "That part, I can't tell you. Gotta keep my mouth shut."

Hyunjin persisted, "Oh, come on, give us a hint."

The mischievous look in Seungmin eyes intensified, and he simply replied, "Let's just say, she does music."

Hyunjin's eyes widened in excitement. "No way! An idol? Who could be so bad that she overwhelmed you?" he exclaimed, almost jumping in his seat.

Seungmin, nonchalant, rolled his eyes. "Believe me, it's a mystery."

Hyunjin's excitement reached new heights. "Come on, Minnie! You can't drop a bomb like that and not spill the details. Is she a rookie? Gosh, Kim Seungmin please don't be hanging around children."

Seungmin gasped dramatically, "What no! She's in a group that's been around for a while. But that's it, no more hints!"

Hyunjin, unable to contain his curiosity, leaned forward as if on the verge of revealing his suspicions. "Wait a minute… is it—" He caught himself just in time, the name hovering on the tip of his tongue. A sudden look of realization crossed his face, and he quickly retracted his statement. "Never mind, forget I said anything. I don't want to get into trouble."

Seungmin, smirking at Hyunjin's near revelation, teased, "Careful, Hyunjin." Hyunjin, grinning sheepishly, nodded in agreement.

Jeongin's noticeable silence lingered in the car, prompting Seungmin's concern. "You okay?" he asked, to which Jeongin offered a nod. Meanwhile, Hyunjin had a mischievous smirk on his face.

"So, Jeongin, how's it going with your girl?" Hyunjin probed, and Jeongin shot him a bemused look.

"We're good," Jeongin replied, refusing to tell them that you two had broken up.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes theatrically. "Come on, give us the juicy details. Ever since you two became official, you're acting like it's this huge secret. What's the deal?"

Jeongin, maintaining his composed demeanor, stated, "I don't feel the need to share my love life with everyone." Hyunjin responded with an audible groan as he heard this.

"No one's fun anymore," Hyunjin lamented. "Remember the good old days when you would gush about her. We'd get sick of hearing about your big fat crush on her. Now it's all hush-hush. Boring." He sighed as Seungmin pulled into the vast parking lot of the club.

Seungmin maneuvered the car into a spot, bringing it to a halt. The trio exited the car, and he swiftly locked it, the subtle click echoing in the night. They made their way towards the club entrance, where a formidable bouncer stood guard.

Recognizing the members, the bouncer nodded, allowing them passage. With a nod of gratitude, they entered the vibrant realm of Hallyu.

As soon as they stepped inside, Jeongin excused himself abruptly, leaving Hyunjin and Seungmin exchanging perplexed glances. Over the pounding beats and lively chatter, Hyunjin tried to communicate, "Where do you think he's off to so suddenly?"

Amidst the booming music and pulsating bass, Hyunjin attempted to voice their shared confusion, but Seungmin couldn't hear him. Seungmin strained to hear over the deafening noise, responding with a confused shrug. Hyunjin, realizing the problem, cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed into Seungmin's ear, "WHERE DO YOU THINK HE'S OFF TO SO SUDDENLY?"

Seungmin, startled from the sudden volume, yelled back, "No idea!" They continued further into the club, navigating the lively crowd while Jeongin ventured off in search of you, his footsteps merging with the rhythmic beats that echoed through the Hallyu atmosphere.

Amidst the pulsating lights and thumping beats, Jeongin navigated through the expansive club, checking every corner except the bar in his quest to find you. The sea of people, familiar faces, and the sheer enormity of the venue made the search challenging.

Navigating through the pulsating crowd, Jeongin unexpectedly collided with Yuna. Her friendly smile greeted him, "Hey, Jeongin."

"Hi, Yuna," Jeongin replied, returning the greeting. Yuna's eyes held a flicker of recognition. "I see you brought your girlfriend here tonight," she remarked, making an assumption Jeongin wasn't prepared for.

Confusion furrowed Jeongin's brow as he eagerly asked, "My girlfriend?"

Yuna insisted, "Yeah, your girlfriend. Why are you so shocked?"

"Because I'm not dating anyone," Jeongin replied.

"Stop lying," Yuna said as she gave him a playful swat across the shoulder.

"Shin Yuna, I'm not, I'm serious," He laughed wholeheartedly.

"Yang Jeongin, I know there's a girl" She stated, giving him the same energy.

Jeongin sighed, accepting his defeat, "Well, did you see her anywhere? I don't know where she is."

Amused, Yuna teased, "How did you lose her?"

Growing more exasperated, Jeongin explained, "Because I didn't bring her here with me. She came without telling me, and I don't even know who she even came with! Just tell me where you saw her."

Rolling her eyes, Yuna quipped, "Jeez, I haven't met her before or seen her tonight, but some of the others pointed her out."

Jeongin face-palmed, frustration evident on his features. "How do people even know about her?"

"Your members are uncontrollable," Yuna chuckled.

Jeongin sighed, seeking more information, "Well, did anyone say where she was?"

"They had drinks with them earlier, so probably one of the bars. Maybe check around?" Yuna suggested, offering a helpful direction amid the chaos of the club.

Concern etched Jeongin's features as he mumbled a quick thanks and continued his search. Determined, he headed toward the bar, hoping to find you amidst the myriad faces in the bustling club.

As Jeongin approached the bar, scanning the crowded area, his heart skipped a beat as he spotted you, plopped on the counter. He could always recognize you from far away by the way your hair fell loose around your shoulders, catching the iridescent lights of the club. He couldn't help but notice the way your tight outfit hugged your curves in all the right places he was so familiar with. Instinctively, he walked up to you and put a gentle hand on your arm out of habit.

Unaware of his identity and startled by the sudden touch, you reacted defensively, swiftly hitting him, mistaking him for a stranger. Jeongin winced but quickly spoke, "Y/N, it's me." Your eyes widened in recognition.

"Jeongin? What are you doing here?" you spoke up, looking around nervously as if checking to see if anyone would notice you two talk to each other.

He arched an eyebrow, his expression turning serious. "I should be asking you the same question. What are you doing here alone?"

Your words came out slurred, and Jeongin's concern deepened as he noticed the unease in your demeanor. "I..." you began, your voice trailing off as tears welled up in your eyes.

Jeongin's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, and he sat down on the bar stool next to yours. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. Jeongin's concern deepened as he observed your drunk state. He could see the distress in your eyes and the vulnerability in your words. "Why are you so upset, Y/N?" he asked gently, with worry in his tone.

You hiccupped, the alcohol clearly affecting your composure. "It's just... some of my idol friends, they brought there, but then they left me alone with some guy. They keep doing this. I could never tell them I had a boyfriend, so they keep introducing me to these random men, and it's just... it's a little too much."

Jeongin listened attentively, his jaw clenched in silent anger. He knew how much you used to value your relationship, and the thought of your friends continuously setting you up with strangers without considering your feelings frustrated him.

"You shouldn't have to go through this, Y/N." Jeongin finally spoke.

A tear streamed down your face as you spoke, "And the guy tonight..." you began but a big hiccup interrupted you.

Jeongin's eyes narrowed, his protective instincts kicking in as he listened to your distressed voice. "What happened with him, Y/N? Did he do something to you?" he asked, his voice tense with concern.

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. "He was just so bad, Jeongin. He kept on touching me and we kissed." You added, "Please don't be mad. I wouldn't take advantage of our breakup like that. I tried to stop him, but he was so pushy, and I didn't know what to do."

Jeongin's eyes tightened with anger as he heard the details of your distressing encounter. He remained silent for a moment, absorbing the gravity of the situation. Your fear was palpable, and he could feel the urgency in your plea for understanding.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, "Y/N, what does the guy look like?"

You hesitated, fear evident in your eyes. "I don't want to see him again. I just want to forget about it."

Jeongin's expression softened, understanding the depth of your discomfort. "I need to know so I can make sure you're safe. You don't have to face him again, but I need to know who he is."

You reluctantly told him the name of the guy and provided enough visual details for Jeongin to identify him if necessary. As you spoke, Jeongin's jaw clenched, his protective instincts kicking in even more.

After you finished explaining, Jeongin stayed silent for a moment before finally saying, "Y/N, I'll never be mad at you for this. I'm furious at that guy for treating you like that. No one should ever make you feel unsafe."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I just really want a hug right now," you admitted, your voice trembling.

Jeongin's eyes softened, and without a moment's hesitation, he pulled you into a tight embrace. It wasn't the response you were expecting. You had wanted him to suggest something like "Wanna leave? We can take a cab back to your house and I'll stay for the night." and hug you when you got home. Instead, Jeongin, sensing the urgency of the moment, chose to offer comfort right there and then.

As he held you close, the chaotic surroundings of the club seemed to fade away. Jeongin's arms provided a shield, and the steady beat of his heart against your ear drowned out the noise. It was an unexpected moment of tenderness amidst the chaos, a silent reassurance that you weren't alone.

"Jeongin, everyone's going to see," you whispered anxiously, your voice shaking with fear. The overwhelming noise of the club seemed to amplify your vulnerability.

Jeongin continued to hold you close, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Shh, we're okay," he whispered softly, his words a gentle lullaby to your escalating anxiety. Without breaking the embrace, he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. "You said you two kissed?" Jeongin questioned.

"He kissed me," you corrected, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin's expression tightened with controlled anger, but before he could say anything, you felt his gentle touch on your face. His thumb brushed away a stray tear, and his eyes locked onto yours. "Where?" he asked, his tone soft but demanding answers.

"On the lips," you replied, your voice trembling. You could see the anger flicker in Jeongin's eyes, but there was something else too—something tender.

Without saying a word, Jeongin leaned in, his hands resting on your waist. As Jeongin's lips met yours, the fear and anxiety began to melt away. It was a kiss that held reassurance, a silent promise that you were fully his.

As the kiss lingered, you couldn't help but marvel at the fact that Jeongin was openly expressing affection in public, something he had never done before. It struck you that he was okay with showing you off to other people at that moment.

However, as Jeongin pulled away, you sensed a sudden shift in the atmosphere. He avoided eye contact, his gaze fixed on some distant point. A knot of worry formed in your stomach. It felt as if he were already regretting it.

"Jeongin, look at me," you urged, your voice filled with concern. But he continued to avoid your gaze, and the worry intensified. "Jeongin," you repeated, trying to catch his eye, but he remained unresponsive.

In a moment of desperation, you gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes. What you saw took you aback – tears glistened in Jeongin's eyes. This sight, combined with his refusal to make eye contact, sent a surge of anxiety through you.

"Jeongin, what's wrong?" you asked, your voice trembling. Without hesitation, you reached up to wipe away the tears that trailed down his cheeks. He didn't resist, but his silence and tears spoke volumes.

His emotions seemed overwhelming, and you knew Jeongin was not one to cry in front of so many people. It left you deeply concerned. Looking around, you noticed the crowded nature of the club and realized it wasn't the right place for such a vulnerable moment.

You stood up, gesturing for Jeongin to follow you to a quieter area. The unspoken understanding passed between you as he rose, and you both navigated through the pulsating crowd to find a more secluded spot where you could unravel the emotions that had surfaced.

Finding a small corner away from the pulsating beats and prying eyes, you gestured for Jeongin to sit with you. As you both settled into a more private space, you could feel the weight of the unspoken emotions hanging in the air.

"Jeongin, please tell me what's going on," you pleaded, your worry etched across your face.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders trembling slightly, and finally met your gaze. The pain in his eyes struck you, and you realized that whatever had triggered this emotional response went beyond the events of the night.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. "I didn't mean to... I just..." He struggled to find the right words.

Concern deepening, you gently cupped his face, wiping away the remnants of tears. "Jeongin, you can tell me anything."

Jeongin took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and pain. "Y/N, I thought keeping our relationship a secret would protect you from any trouble. But I see now that it only did you worse."

As he spoke, his voice carried the weight of realization, and you listened attentively, still holding his face in your hands.

"The reason you got harassed tonight was all because of me," Jeongin continued, his words laced with self-blame. "I was too afraid to let people know about us, and it got you stuck in situations like this."

Your heart ached for Jeongin's internal struggle, but you could also sense the sincerity in his words. "Jeongin, it's not your fault. I'll never blame you for what happened tonight. Those people were out of line, and it had nothing to do with us keeping our relationship private."

He nodded, appreciating your understanding but still burdened by guilt. "I should have let you tell your friends about us. Then, they would've never tried to set you up with guys like that."

You took a deep breath, your thumb gently caressing his cheek. "Jeongin, it's not your fault. What happened tonight, it could have easily happened anytime. It has nothing to do with you."

Jeongin's shoulders slumped, the weight of his guilt evident in his posture. "I just… I didn't know how to be a good boyfriend. I was scared, so I just broke it off like that." he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart broke at his words, and you reached out to take his hand in yours, offering what little comfort you could. "Jeongin, you are a good boyfriend," you reassured him, your voice firm with conviction. "You were always there for me. When you were keeping our relationship private, your heart was in the right place since you just wanted to protect me."

He shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes once again. "But it hurt you to have to deal with that," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, "It did at times," you admitted softly. "But what hurt the most was when you broke up with me, Jeongin. I didn't want us to end like that."

Jeongin's gaze softened, his heart aching at the pain he had caused you. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just... I didn't know how to handle everything, and I thought it was for the best." He paused for a moment, "Can we just forget it all happened?"

You looked at Jeongin, "What do you mean?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggled to find the right words. "I hate the thought of us breaking up. I hate that word. I don't even want to call it a breakup," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I just... I want to call it... our time to learn from each other."

"Does this mean you want us to get back together?" you asked, your voice laced with cautious optimism.

Jeongin nodded, his eyes meeting yours. "Yes, Y/N," he replied, his voice filled with determination. "I want us to give our relationship another chance. But I don't want us to dwell on this past week like it was some tragedy. I want us to focus on moving forward together, stronger and more committed than ever before."

You smiled softly at Jeongin's words, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I want that too, Jeongin," you admitted, your voice filled with sincerity.

"I wanna show you off." He admitted.

"We can take it slow." you reassured.

"No, really," he confirmed, his tone serious. "In fact, if it weren't for running into Yuna earlier and her knowing you as girlfriend, I might never have found you this easily."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his revelation, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "Yuna knew me?" you exclaimed, unable to hide your astonishment.

Jeongin nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Yeah, she did," he confirmed, his eyes shining with amusement. "And thanks to her, I was able to find you and have this conversation with you."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Jeongin's admission, finding his reaction endearing. "Well, I guess we owe Yuna a thank you then," you remarked, a playful glint in your eyes.

Jeongin grinned, nodding in agreement. "Definitely," he replied, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "But you know, I want people to know about you. I want the world to know how much you mean to me."

A soft smile tugged at your lips, touched by his sentiment. "Well, you realize you did kiss me at the bar in front of everyone," you teased gently, a playful glint in your eyes.

Jeongin's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he realized his slip-up. "Oh right," he muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I forgot that there were people around us."

You chuckled softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "I guess you must've accidentally shut them out."

A tender smile spread across Jeongin's face, his eyes shining with affection. "Yeah, I was probably to focused," he admitted, his voice filled with warmth. "That's what happens when you're in love."

Your heart swelled with warmth at Jeongin's words, feeling the sincerity behind them. As you smiled, Jeongin's expression softened even more, his gaze lingering on your lips. Without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The world around him seemed to fade away once again as your lips met in a tender kiss.

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Sensing your desire, Jeongin responded eagerly, his arms encircling you as he lifted you effortlessly. You found yourself straddling him, your bodies pressed together as the kiss grew more passionate, more urgent.

He pulled away slightly, his lips lingering dangerously close to yours. In the hushed space between you, he whispered those three words, "I love you," his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you t-", Before you could respond, before you could utter those same words that had been waiting on the tip of your tongue, he silenced you by shoving his tongue into your opened mouth.

You eagerly welcomed him, losing yourself in the heat of the moment. There was an urgency, a hunger in the way he kissed you, as if he couldn't get enough of you, as if he wanted to consume you entirely.

As the two of you were lost in the intensity of your make out sesh, a voice suddenly shattered the passionate haze. "Yang Jeongin!" The voice was loud and unmistakable, causing both of you to pull apart, breathless and startled.

Turning towards the source of the interruption, you were met with the sight of Hyunjin, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

[reiding-writing]

Hiii, I absolutely loved immortal it was adorable! I was wondering if I could request a fluff fic w Gn!reader where when Spencer goes to the swing set after the whole thing with Cat at the restaurant reader also goes there maybe to read a book and it's a whole meet cute kinda thing cause it's one of his favorite authors or smth? sry for the long request I was trying to be specific Imao

swinging [s.r]

Summary:

You attempt to find your usual late night escape in the empty play park late one evening after an argument with your boyfriend, instead you find a handsome stranger that you find oddly endearing.

WARNINGS: shitty boyfriend (not spencer obviously)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff (kinda hurt/comfort)

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: i am reuploading this once and once only so if it doesn’t upload to the tags again then i am giving up-

“It’s a little late for a play date don’t you think?”

Your comment clearly catches the boy in front of you off guard, his head shooting upwards and his eyes wide like he was in a state of fight or flight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” You take a second to admire the man in front of you through your apology.

His hair was fluffy, bordering curly, and long enough that it was getting caught in his eyelashes as he blinked up at you.

His eyes were big, round, and practically glistening in the warm lighting of the lamp post to your left.

He was dressed in a finely pressed black suit fit with a baby blue shirt and a lilac tie that made him look like he’d walked right out of one of those rom-coms where the male lead is a prolific billionaire.

He was gorgeous.

“I came here to wallow in my own self-pity but it looks like you beat me to it,” You can’t help but chuckle softly at your own explanation. “Do you mind?”

You gesture towards the swing besides his with a book held in your left hand and a soft expression, as if to silently tell the beautiful stranger in front of you that if he wanted to be alone that you would feel any offense.

“Uh- yeah- no- no, go ahead,” You don’t even try to suppress the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the way he stumbles over his words, and you take a seat on the swing next to him with a chuckled “Thank you,” as you turn your head down to the open book in your lap, just illuminated enough under the lamp post so you can read the words on the pages.

Any distinguishing factors, including the book’s title were unceremoniously hidden from view as it blends into the night’s shadows, effectively halting curious effort of the boy next to you to figure out what it is.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for you to feel his lingering gaze, and you follow it down to the novel in your hands before you show off the cover in his direction.

Paramenides by Plato.

“Have you read it?”

Your voice stops his psychoanalysis of your literature choices as he turns his eyes back up towards your face again.

“I have actually,” He nods softly at you with a pursed, slightly awkward smile, the contours of his cheek bones perfectly captured in the dim lighting. “I read it when I was doing my Philosophy degree.”

“No kidding-“ You let out a small laugh in surprise at the fact the cute stranger encroaching on your usual pity party venue just so happened to have a degree in Philosophy.

He also just so happened to have an absolutely beautiful laugh, the sound like a song in your ear as he joins you in laughing about the absurdity of the odds that the two of you both had a keen interest in philosophy.

“So, what brings you out here so late then?” You seem to lose interest in your book as the two of you make eye contact, shutting it in your lap as you turn your shoulders towards him. “No, wait, let me guess, shitty date?”

The boy lets out a breath that could almost constitute as laugh, averting his eyes from you and leaning towards slightly to awkwardly run his hands over his legs. “Something like that-”

You give him a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Don’t let it ruin your perception of romance, it’ll work out in the end,”

The boy’s eyes turn up towards you once more as you speak, and your smile becomes a little more awkward as he meets your gaze once more.

“You don’t look like you believe yourself…” His words leaving you blinking softly in his direction, facial expression full of confusion.“Your relationship isn’t going very well at the moment is it?”

Your expression morphs at his question and he immediately backtracks, waving his hands around as he tries to pull back the conversation.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m-” He takes a sharp breath in through his nose before attempting to actually speak a full sentence to you. “I’m a uh profi- A behavioural analyst- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i’m so sorry-“

“No it’s alright,” It was your turn to awkwardly drag your hands down your legs now, fingers curling over the edge of your book as you reach it and fiddle with the metal plating on one of the corners of the cover. “You’re not wrong,”

You can practically see the curiosity in his eyes as you confirm his suspicion. “Is that why you’re here?”

You can hear the cautiousness in his tone as he presses you further, clearly scared about crossing a line, “You said you came here to ‘wallow in self-pity’ earlier…”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of your earlier statement as he repeats it back to you. “We uh, had an argument,”

You play it off as something insignificant, but you can tell that he doesn’t believe you and soon end up finding yourself spilling the entirety of your relationship problems to someone you’ve never met before.

“He has this best friend that he’s like weirdly close to and he stood me up on a movie night we were supposed to have so they could go out together instead-“ You sigh exasperatedly as you replay the nights events in your head.

“I called him to ask where he was and it spun into him yelling at me for ‘not respecting’ his friendship because they’ve been friends longer than we’ve been dating, it’s stupid really-“

“That’s not stupid at all,” He shakes his head determinedly at you. “He’s not respecting your relationship, i’m sorry you have to deal with that,”

You can’t help but feel minorly guilty for making a stranger feel bad for you, but you give him a soft “Thank you,” nonetheless.

You unfortunately don’t have time to continue your conversation as your phone buzzes with a message from your boyfriend telling you that you have to go home to your shared apartment.

With a sigh you pick yourself up from the swing, clutching your book underneath your arm.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” You trail of the sentence with indication for him to fill in the space with his name.

“Dr. Reid- Spencer Reid- Spencer- I’m Spencer....”

You can see the flush spread across his cheeks and over his nose as he stumbles out his name.

“I enjoyed speaking with you Spencer,” You give the cute stranger, Spencer, a soft smile as you prepare yourself to leave, hands stuffed in your pockets.

“I enjoyed speaking to you too,” He returns your smile with one of his own, albeit one that’s slightly more awkward, and you can see his mouth fall open again as if he was going to say something else, but his words fall short.

“Good night,” Your stopped in your walk home almost before it even starts as Spencer calls after you with a new found confidence.

“Wait-“ His voice echoes through the empty play park, and you turn around to meet his glistening gaze once more. “Am I- going to see you again?”

His half-awkward demeanour was oddly charming, eliciting a soft smile that spreads to your eyes.

“I like to read here sometimes, bring a book with you and maybe we can read together…”

Spencer smiles at your indirect invitation to see him here again in the future, and he nods softly at your answer, standing from the swing he was sat on to mirror you. “I’d like that,”

“Good,” You give him another soft smile that joined by a slight tilt of your head. “I’ll see you soon then..”

“Yeah…” Spencer stays stood as he watches you leave to go home, mind running at a million miles a minute as his brain fully comprehends what just happened.

You’re already out of sight before he realises that he forgot to ask for your name.

[lostyesterday]

I’ve been thinking about disabled protagonists in Star Trek recently, which got me thinking about Seven of Nine. It’s interesting because I’m almost certain the writers of Voyager did not intend to write a disabled character, but they ended up accidentally writing one anyway, and one whose arc I find surprisingly compelling as a disabled person myself. Seven is dependent on electronic devices both inside her body and external to it in order to survive and she requires regular medical treatment and specialized adaptations to her environment in order to function. She is absolutely canonically disabled (as are all the other ex-Borg in Star Trek), even if the writers probably weren’t aware of that. The major reason that I think Seven’s arc resonates with me so much is because it reflects a deep tension between independence and dependence that is a fundamental and complex part of so many disabled people’s lives.

To be disabled is to be deeply aware at all times of your own dependence on external things (such as wheelchairs, canes, medications, etc.) and other people. At the same time, to be disabled is to also be deeply aware of the societal standards of independence and self-sufficiency you are constantly failing to live up to. You cannot do things that people are “supposed” to be able to do independently. You need help for basic tasks, and you have no choice but to trust that these external supports you are dependent on will not suddenly disappear, causing you to be unable to participate in society at all. It’s difficult to express to someone who hasn’t experienced it how much being disabled forces someone to consider their own level of dependence and independence constantly, how it becomes a deep part of one’s identity and can often be a source of trauma.

Seven’s arc on Voyager is often focused on the nature of individuality, but it is interesting how often “individuality” becomes a stand-in for independence. Seven’s disability makes her deeply dependent on the crew and resources of Voyager for survival. She could theoretically leave and use her own skills to do maintenance on her implants and install an alcove somewhere to keep herself functioning, but it would be a great risk, and her safety would be constantly in doubt. At the same time, Seven hates this dependence. She tries to rely on other people as little as possible, hating her need for the Doctor to diagnose issues with her implants and refusing to ask for help until she has no other choice. She hates this dependence because she sees it as challenging her ability to become a complete “individual” who is able to make her own autonomous choices. She hates this dependence because it forces her to rely on other people who could at any time abandon her or abuse their power over her.

So it’s far less frightening to pretend this dependence doesn’t exist, to hide it even from herself. Seven’s arrogance in her own abilities, her focus on her intellect and vast knowledge and superior physical abilities are in many ways genuine, especially early on. But at what point does this confidence in her own abilities – this reassurance that she is smart enough and strong enough to control her own destiny and be a true individual – become a coping mechanism to deal with the reality of her dependence on objects and people outside of her direct control?

Seven is told often by members of the Voyager crew that being an individual who makes her own choices and decisions is what she should strive for. And at the same time, those same people often exert control over her, attempting to restrict her autonomy. Janeway or the Doctor tell her that they know better than her what her needs are – that being an individual only goes so far. Seven’s anger at this contradiction is one of my favorite parts of her character, partially because it captures a similar feeling of anger deep inside me when I think about the ways society constantly pressures disabled people to maintain standards of independence impossible to live up to while at the same time deeply restricting our autonomy and freedom.

In the episode “Imperfection”, Seven says that what she wants most is to be useful. To be useful is to be a valuable part of society – someone who is self-sufficient and talented and certainly not deeply dependent on other people for basic survival. To be disabled is to have society constantly demand that you be useful, that you be independent and strong and never let your disabilities limit you. And at the same time, to be disabled is to discover over and over that you can never be that fully autonomous, fully functional human being seen as ideal in society. No matter what you do – no matter how far you run from the truth – it’s an impossible reality to escape.