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peachedtv · 1 year ago

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DOUBLE STUFFED ft. Bully!Satoru Gojo + Bully!Suguru Geto

✰ KINKTOBER 2023 SPECIAL...

✰ SUMMARY: Satoru and Suguru never meant to piss you off, but how could they stop when your reactions would always be so pretty? How could they stop when your reactions to more intimate things would be even better?

✰ CONTENT WARNINGS: afab, female!reader, bully!satosugu x reader, noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, multiple rounds, double penetration (anal and v), porn with some plot, marking, biting, semi-public sex (empty classroom), mentions of forced exhibitionism, breast/nipple play, degradation, fingering, squirting, cum eating, oral (fem and male receiving), face fucking, hair pulling, p in v sex, biting, minor blood, crying, creampie, unprotected sex, just a shit load of nasty fucking 😋

✰ WORD COUNT: 7.5k (WTFF)

✰ AUTHOR'S NOTE: having the most insane bully!satosugu brain rot to cope with mfing school

✰ MASTERLIST.

As much as you could hide it well, Satoru and Suguru really pissed you off.

You glare at Satoru, your hair completely drenched and your uniform in disarray. If you were naive, you would’ve mistaken Satoru for accidentally bumping into you and shoving you backward into the fountain as an unfortunate event. Perhaps the first time it could have been. Perhaps the second was just bad luck. Although, by this point, he had shoved you into the pond every single time you were tasked with feeding the school’s koi fish—and you were not some idiot to miss the way Satoru would hold back a snicker as he offered you a hand out of the fountain.

“You okay? My bad, Himiko.” You see Suguru snort from behind him, his palm covering his mouth as Satoru tries to maintain a sorry excuse for a poker face. It was obvious he was calling you by the wrong name to piss you off, to really degrade you down into your place. But what could you do?

“My name is Y/N..” You mumble, refusing his hand with a lithe wave as you stand up with a light shiver, hugging your arms to your chest, consequently squishing your boobs together in a way that has Suguru's eyes wandering to your cleavage. Your uniform was utterly soaked, hugging tightly to your body, and you held back a frown. Honestly, half the reason why Satoru loved to torment you this way was for the view he’d get. Stupid little you wouldn’t even realize your pink lacy bra would be on full display when your thin blouse turned transparent from the water. For a moment, he’d forget to even reply to your correction, prying eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as they traced from your breasts down to the way your skirt hugged your ass, admiring the way that the water dripped from between your legs could be mistaken so lewdly without proper context.

“Oh, right. My bad, Y/N.” He’d play off, patting your head and picking up the packet of fish food from the edge of the fountain, placing it idly onto a stone.

You felt your heart burn, your hands tightening into fists. Satoru really loved seeing you hold back your insults, a smile spreading across his lips every time you had to pause and take a deep breath to regain your composure after his antics—and there was a reason why you never snapped at them, a reason why you always bit your tongue.

Satoru and Suguru weren’t just your average high school fuck boys. Everyone knew Satoru as the closest thing man could get to being god, attributed to his precociously stupid six eyes and infinite void. Even with his status as a student, he still surpassed the strength of his instructors, borderline toying with them during practice spars, directly toying with his seniors during missions, and mercilessly fucking with you at any moment he could get. His power, his status, the admiration, all this built his sky-high ego that fueled a stupid smirk that could never be wiped off his face. Everyone respected him. He was a newborn pillar of the Jujutsu world, after all. And how could little you stand up against that?

Meanwhile, Suguru stood as Satoru's right-hand man. Suguru was Satoru's 'angel' on his right shoulder, the one who would talk Satoru into a foreign concept of mercy. Despite that, the man still found a certain level of amusement at your disarray. Suguru held an excessive amount of reputation alongside his white-haired friend. With his stupid amount of cursed energy, paired with his cursed spirit manipulation, his ever-growing strength paralleled any of the faculty at Jujutsu Tech. Satoru and Suguru are the strongest. Thus, how could you bite back at their antics when even the teachers kissed the ground they walked upon, too fearful to scold them without fearing for the end of their careers.

It was the way that you bit your tongue against them that was the funniest part. Reactions, that's what they fed off of. Your reaction when you were shoved into the fountain, a yelp slipping past your lips before you'd be absolutely drenched, flailing to pull your skimpy skirt over your ass. The same skirt they bribed the teachers into giving you a size too small because 'the school ran out'. Your reaction when Satoru would accidentally slam his shoulder against yours, causing you to swear it was no big deal before you'd pout as you picked up your things. Satoru and Suguru found themselves entranced in the way you'd react to things: to stress, to annoyance, to teasing. They wanted to see more and more of your sweet little expressions.

Satoru and Suguru weren't just your average high school fuck boys, but you were beginning to lose your mind, you were beginning to not care of whatever reputation and power they had.

It didn't start off tame, but it still managed to rapidly skid downhill. Satoru and Suguru's antics kept progressing further and further, pushing your boundaries and dignity to the limit. At first, there was a minor jump from physical annoyances, such as 'accidental' shoulder bump, developing into more verbal degradations. Suguru would slip one of his cursed spirits into the door of the classroom, fumbling with the key pins until you were trapped inside.

"Oh, is poor little Y/N stuck?" Satoru would smile, his six eyes watching through the door as you would desperately toy with the knob, eyebrows furrowed. "Please, just open the door, Satoru! I have a club meeting today." You frowned, lips pouty as you looked to the door pleadingly, unknowing that Satoru was feeding off your helpless and frustrated expressions.

"Why don't you ask nicely?" A smirk spread across Satoru's lips, he could practically taste the humiliation rising inside you.

"What?" Your voice was trailed off, faint. You knew it was needless questioning for clarification as if you hadn't heard Satoru as clear as day.

"Beg us to open the door. Come on now, I know the weak usually have experience begging for their lives, use that skill in a different aspect. You're a smart girl, no?" Suguru chimed in. You felt the back of your neck burn with embarrassment. There was no way they were being serious, right? You glance to the clock. 16:52, your meeting was set to start in 8 minutes.

"Guys, please. Not today, I really need to get goi-"

"That doesn't sound like begging. Now does it, Suguru?" Satoru cut you off, his voice dismissive. Suguru smiled. "No, you're right there, Satoru." You fell silent. The minute hand ticked. 16:53.

"...please open the door." You said flatly, resting your forehead against the door with your hand weakly hanging off the knob. You were growing tired. Tired of their antics.

"You can do better than that." Satoru snorted. The door slightly sank towards you, likely as a result of Satoru leaning his back against it. You bit the inside of your cheek, gripping your hands into fists. You had the power to break down the door. To shove past them. To curse them out. It was becoming too much to hold back. You swear under your breath, sliding your palm down your face to recollect before you let out a deep sigh.

"...please, Satoru. Please, Suguru. I'm begging you to open the door." You tried to lace as much emotion into your speech, but it still held an undertone of absolute irritation that anyone wouldn't be able to miss. Still, the door clicked, sliding open. "See, that wasn't that hard, was it?" Satoru leaned over you, towering as he smirked, his hands dug deep into his pockets. You frown at him, pushing past him and Suguru as your shoes tap against the wooden floors to get to your meeting.

"Cute, wasn't that?"

"You're right on that."

You didn't think it could get worse. Although, the devil truly knew how to make things work. The devil being Satoru and Suguru.

Quickly, the two's antics would turn purely humiliating. They'd have you beg to be let out of locked closets, classrooms, bathrooms, and storage rooms, until it was having you kneel in front of them and apologizing for bumping into Satoru even if it was obviously your right of way. You'd keep your palms resting on your knees, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up to Satoru with your doe eyes, speaking a soft apology with shame rising heat to your cheeks. Your fingers would fiddle together, nails digging into your skin to try and push past the embarrassment. There was a brace of silence in the classroom after you mumbled your apology. Satoru stood tall in front of you, while Suguru leaned against the teacher's podium with his arms folded in front of his chest.

"You know, I don't think sorry is enough anymore." Your chin picks up to look at Suguru with widened eyes. "What..?"

"I think you're right," Satoru added, kneeling down to you as he took your chin between his fingers, redirecting your gaze to him. "You've been causing so much trouble for us, no? I believe you need a better way to make it up to us this time." Satoru's voice was silky, his head tilting as he spoke, eyes trailing down to your neck, collarbones, before resting his gaze on your breasts. You felt confused, and for some reason, your heart began to sink down into your stomach. "How do I make it up to you?" You were hesitant, slow, your voice hiding back its quiver. Satoru smiled.

You choked out a sob, stifled by the fat cock nudging into the depths of your throat. Satoru's hand held your hair back tightly, your scalp burning as he carefully thrust into your face and used your hair as leverage. You blinked through a build of tears, hands weakly pushing against his thighs to try and tell him to let up, to not fuck his cock so deep into your face. With a particularly forceful thrust, the tip of Satoru's dick punches into the back of your throat, your esophagus contracting as you gagged. Satoru held you firmly in place, and tears began to fill into the corners of your eyes.

"Fuck, just like that, pretty girl." Satoru's breath was ragged, his eyebrows knit together as he looked down to you, pulling back before fucking another harsh thrust into the back of your throat. "Breathe through your nose, now. I can't have you passing out on me." Satoru guided you gently, yet the way he gripped your head and held you to bottom out contrasted greatly with his kind tone. It was a lot easier said than done, especially with how large his cock was, stretching your throat and causing a deep ache in your jaw. Satoru groaned when you swallowed, his head falling back as he closed his eyes. He began to pick up his pace, thrusting his hips while simultaneously pulling and pushing your head up and down him. He never failed to hit the back of your throat with each thrust, smiling when your two hands on his thighs would slowly grip him tighter, a silent way to beg for him to slow down. He never did.

Precum leaked from his tip, swathing against your tongue, salty with a lace of sweetness. He felt himself losing his mind. Satoru cursed under his breath. Why hadn't they done this earlier? How could they have let such a perfect little thing like you slip past their gaze all these years? He watched as you turned your gaze up to him, locking eyes. Your mouth was stuffed full of him, tears welled up in your eyes before they ran down your pretty face. This, this was it. This is what he and Suguru really needed. Throughout their years, he and Suguru had had their way with many dumb, pretty doormats just like you. But as Satoru starts fucking your mouth, heavy breaths falling past his lips as his balls began to slap against your chin, he could tell that your holes were going to be the best they'll ever fuck. You shut your eyes tightly, looking up to him pleadingly with him to give you a break, to let you breathe even just for a little bit. He could tell you've never done anything like this before, or at the very least, never with a cock as large as his. Your innocence was only driving him even more mad, having him relish in the way that he and Suguru would be the first ones to break you in. To use you. To fuck all your holes. Satoru's eyes traced down to your throat, watching the outline of his cock bulge in your neck and a build-up of your saliva drip down from your chin onto your clothed tits.

"Fuck... Eyes on me." His eyebrows knit together, voice airy. With one hand still gripping roughly in your hair, his other reaches down to your throat. His palm wraps around the entirety of your neck easily. You're so small compared to him. Like a dumb little lamb that's wandered too far into the woods, too far into a lion's den. He gives your neck a light squeeze when he bottoms out, hearing you gag and your throat tightening around his cock in response. Once he notices your hands practically scratching down his thighs, he builds up the restraint to give you a break, pulling his cock out of your mouth with a grunt. You gasp, coughs and choked heaves of air borrowing through as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Maybe that was enough, you thought. Maybe now, they'd leave you alone, your dignity bruised and purity shattered.

Much to your dismay, Suguru unbuckled his pants, walking towards you slowly. You look at him with wide eyes.

"W-Wait, I don't—"

"Don't what?" Suguru cut you off, lightly tapping the tip of his cock against your cheek with one hand, his other hand pushing his hair out of his pretty face. Your lips quiver, and you turn your face away from him.

"I don't want to do this anymore..." You looked down to the floor, your hands fiddling together nervously while you knelt before him. Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers running through your hair gently, tucking loose strands behind your ear.

"You really think we care?" You look up to him slowly. His eyes were half-lidded as they stared down into you, cold. He felt like another person. Many times Suguru would be the one to hold Satoru back, Suguru would be the one who kept you just a little bit safer. Between the two, you'd pick him. Suguru seemed kinder. Yet, you realized your mistake soon enough. Your heart sinks into your stomach. Suguru's grip tightened upon your scalp, he looked irritated.

"When are you going to drop the act?" He pushed your head back, craning your neck to look directly up to him, holding you firmly in place, like a dog being punished to stay still and look to his owner from the ground.

"What..?" You felt a sense of dread sink about you. Suddenly, Suguru lets go of your scalp, grabbing onto your neck and manhandling you into Satoru's lap. Satoru is sitting upon the teacher's desk, with your back against his chest, flush upon his lap. You choke, struggling, hands trying to push and pull at the wrist that kept air keenly out your throat. Suguru signals to Satoru, and Satoru's hand replaces Suguru's on your neck, holding you scarily still. You felt trapped. Small. Vulnerable. Sugur's large hands hooked beneath your thighs, pushing your knees flush against your shoulders before Suguru knelt in front of you. Your skirt pooled around your midriff, and Suguru traced his fingers idly from your clit down to your hole through the fabric of your panties.

"I'll make a deal with you," Suguru's eyes flickered to your face, his gaze sharp as he tilted his head. The view was stomach-churning. Seeing one of the pillars of the Jujutsu World, knelt between your thighs as he played with your cunt through your underwear, just didn't look right. Suguru hooks his middle finger into the side of your underwear. "If I check your pussy and it's not wet, Satoru and I will leave you alone. Does that sound okay?"

"That's not—"

Satoru cuts you off. "I think that sounds like a great deal." Satoru laughs. Suguru hums, pushing your underwear to the side and leaning towards your cunt with a curious look. You writhe, struggling against Satoru's hold on your neck. His large hand gives a warning squeeze.

"Wet pussy never lies, does it?" Suguru chimes, you choke out a panicked moan when his finger probes against your hole, his middle and pointer finger spreading your labia with a V. His other hand slips into his pocket, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture.

"Stop—"

Suguru flips his phone screen towards you and Satoru, your pussy on full view. "What do you think, Satoru?"

"I think," Satoru speaks, "Y/N's body is a lot more honest than her mouth, hmm?" His breath hitches against your ear, you could practically feel him smiling against you.

"Please—ah!" You jolt when you felt cold air blown right against your hole. You squirm, clentching around nothing as your hips struggle and your breath writhes. Satoru groans a little in response, as your needless struggling has amounted to nothing but grinding against his clothed erection. Suguru laughs, leaning back in to gently suck onto your clit. You wretch out a moan, biting harshly into your cheek. Satoru begins to knead your breasts with two large hands, completely enveloping your chest with his palms, his mouth kissing and sucking deep marks of purple and blue into the side of your neck while he works his way to toy with your nipples.

Suguru begins to slowly lap at your clit, sucking onto your clit before his tongue swirls about it harshly. You shutter out a moan, your hands grabbing onto Satoru's wrist to hold on for dear life, your legs trembling and trying to close. Satoru clicks his tongue.

"We can't have you hiding from us, pretty girl. How can Suguru make you feel good then?" Suguru rests your legs onto his shoulders, his hands going to grip your hips, holding you firmly in place as he continues to suck and lick at your clit, his tongue working wonders and flicking against the bud skillfully. Your breath catches as a lump in your throat, head falling back into Satoru's chest. It's too much. It's too way too much. Tears well up in the corners of your eyes, and you try to push your legs against Suguru's shoulder to no avail.

"T-Too much—" Your voice is weak, shaky from the overstimulation. Satoru gently shushes into your ear. "You can be a big girl for us, can't you?" He hums, his hands grab your wrists and bunches them behind your back. You curl up, body stiffening, opening your eyes to see Suguru looking up at you, staring at you intently and you nearly become lost in his dark eyes.

Soon, you're dragged right back down to Earth when Suguru presses his middle finger against your hole, twisting it until it pushes past your walls, and the heel of his wrist bottoms out against the underside of your clit. You yelp, sharply sucking in a breath of air as Suguru redirects his gaze back to your cunt, humming as he laps up your clit, sloppily pressing the flat of his tongue and dragging upwards before moving his tongue side to side across your bud. Your wrists twist against Satoru's grip when Suguru works another finger inside your hole, stretching you out as he scissors deep inside of you, the pads of his fingers pressing against your g-spot.

Squelches mixed with your struggled moans fill the silence of the classroom, Suguru's tongue pulling away from your clit. With his fingers still inside of you, he stands up, grabbing your chin between his fingers as he leans in to kiss you. You squirm under his touch, closing your eyes tightly, trying to block out what's being forced onto your body. His kiss is full of passion, although it's completely devoid of the kindness and affection that couples usually display. It feels as though he's eating you alive, mouth hungrily enveloping with yours, his tongue pushing past your lips and tasting you completely, muffling all of your panicked sobs and moans. Suddenly, Suguru's fingers begin to pound into your cunt, the heel of his hand slapping against your puffy clit as he slams his fingers in and out of you repeatedly. You feel a knot begin to form in your womb, legs shaking and hips trying to wiggle away from the stimulation. Suguru doesn't slow down. His tongue lapping up into your mouth, teeth biting your lower lip so hard it bleeds as he quickens the pace on his fingers while they curl upwards once fully inside you. A tang of iron spills onto your tongue, and Suguru feels himself being driven halfway insane, drunk off the taste of your pussy, the taste of your mouth, your moans, and your struggled whines.

"I-It hurts." You cry, pussy burning from the stretch as his fingers remain relentless to your cunt. You feel like you're being split in two, and Suguru experimentally scissors inside of you, causing you to shiver and your hips to grind in Satoru's lap.

"I bet," Suguru says. "You're really tight. Relax, and let me in, pretty girl." Your thighs tremble, and Suguru continues to work his way at your cunt, letting go of your chin to rub circles into your clit. Your head falls back as your mouth drops into an O against Satoru's chest. The build-up of pleasure stacks tenfold over itself, completely coiling until it snaps. You cum hard. With a nasty squelch, your pussy clenches around Suguru's fingers tightly, writhing out broken moans as Suguru keeps his fingers deep inside you to curl and probe upwards against your g-spot while he leans back down to suck and tongue at your clit. You sob, his pace persistent and mean, bullying you past your orgasm into painful overwhelms of overstimulation. You feel as though your body is being thrown into overdrive, and your thighs are trembling upon Suguru's shoulders, wrists struggling to get out of Satoru's grip as he holds your arms firmly behind your back.

"Enough, S-Suguru, plea—ah! Too much..—!" You sob, Suguru's fingers continuing to curl and fuck into you, his tongue swishing around your puffy clit. You feel something deep in your pussy snap. You squirt onto his fingers with a scream, tears welling into your eyes as he slams his fingers into you until you're fucked dumb—thighs trembling, chest heaving, and back laid limp against Satoru's chest before he finally pulls his sloppy fingers out of you, his face completely drenched in your arousal.

"That was fuckin' hot." Satoru breathes out, letting go of your wrists and kissing your neck. Suguru licks his lips, relishing in your taste as he lightly slaps your clit, laughing when your eyes widen and your body jolts in response.

"Alright now, upsie daisy." Satoru grabs underneath your arms and pulls you off his lap. You stumble, legs much too weak to stand on your own so soon after your orgasm. Suguru catches you on his chest, peppering light kisses onto the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings on how good you did as he holds you up by your waist. Satoru comes up behind you, pushing your skirt over your ass and pulling off your panties until they pool loosely about your ankles. You sob, your hands moving back to push Satoru away by his hip when one of Satoru's large hands wraps about the entirety of your two wrists, pinning them behind you and arching your back until your ass is flush against his dick and the back of your head is against his shoulder. Satoru's free hand wraps around your neck, holding you in place as you squirm.

"Atta girl, don't be such a cry baby." Satoru kisses your shoulder, pulling his hips back slightly, fucking his cock between your thighs, grinding it against your puffy clit and pussy. You clench around nothing, knees gluing together and hips trying to push back against him desperately. You struggle, wrists squirming to free themselves out of Satoru's mean grip. You scream when one of Satoru's thrusts between your thighs causes the head of his dick to catch into your hole before sliding up to your clit. Suguru smiles at the sight, leaning against a desk in front of you and Satoru as he strokes his cock slowly. Satoru lets go of your neck, still holding you up by the wrists held behind your back, as he takes the base of his dick to press his tip against your hole.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" He muses, voice airy as he slides the head of his dick up and down from your hole to your clit. "No wonder you're so wet." He hums, kissing the side of your neck.

"Stop—oh!" Your voice dies in your throat when he sinks his fat cock into you and bottoms out completely in one thrust, your mouth falling open silent as your eyes widen from the pain. You try squirming away, and the moment you do, Satoru's free hand slides down to press his palm firmly against your womb.

"You feel me in there, pretty?" He muses, licking up the helix of your ear. You sob, trembling in response. You look down to make sure you haven't been split in half, seeing the way Satoru's hand nearly covers the entirety of your lower stomach, seeing a bulge in your tummy from his fat cock nestled deep inside you and against your cervix. Satoru can barely concentrate. He hasn't even begun moving, yet you're already squeezing him so good.

"Fuck... Just like that, baby." Satoru's breath is heavy against your ear, and he bites down on your shoulder to ground himself. You're a strangled mess. Writhing in his arms, your entire body trembling as broken pleas fall upon deaf ears the moment you cut yourself off with your own little moans. Satoru and Suguru can't help but glance at each other, smiling. Fuck, how could such a pretty little thing like you slip past them all these years?

Without warning, Satoru pulls back until only the tip remains inside, before he thrusts his hips forward and bottoms out into you, his hips pressed flush against your ass. You choke out a scream, just as Satoru's hand slaps against your mouth to muffle you.

"Oh common, it wasn't that bad, mm?" Satoru's index and middle fingers push past your lips, swirling about your tongue. "Don't be so loud, unless you want the whole school to know?" Your heart sinks to your stomach, and you swallow, shutting your eyes tightly as you weakly shake your head in response.

"Maybe she really is that dirty of a girl, we'll never know until we try." Suguru muses, pulling out a cigarette from his pants pockets along with those fancy butane lighters with a stupidly long, purple-colored flame. He lights it idly between his long fingers, watching you furrow your eyebrows as the first puff of smoke is blown your way.

"We'd have to start off easy though, she's so sensitive she might die on the spot if we just fuck her in front of a crowd," Satoru replied, slowly pulling his cock out to the tip before sinking back in harshly. You can't even understand what they're saying, Satoru's hand completely shutting you up, his fingers fucking your mouth while his dick has you completely filled to the brim. You feel as though your brain is stupidly empty, overfilled with pain, laced with what you refuse to believe is absolute pleasure. It's too much. The feeling of his fingers in your mouth, against your tongue, his cock dragging against your walls. It's too much. Way too much, and yet Satoru has barely even begun moving.

"Should we start it off with a couple cursed spirits as our audience?" Suguru chimes, head leaning back as the nicotine seems to take its hit. "Nah, that's boring. How about...ah, I know!" Satoru sounds much too cheerful, when he suddenly pulls out to the tip and slams back into you once again. You yelp, muffled sobs passing through the fingers in your mouth as you struggle with your hands pinned behind your back. You moan aimlessly, forced up on your tippy toes to keep taking his dick due to how tall Satoru is compared to you.

"S-Sato—ru! P-Please stop..." A particularly hard thrust stutters you, drowned out by the sounds of him as he begins to pound into your cunt. Perverted squelches drip arousal down your thighs, wetting Satoru's dick, and allowing him to fuck you faster, to fuck you harder. Your legs feel tingly, your clit a puffy, overstimulated mess when Satoru removes the digits in your mouth and uses your own spit to rub circles onto your clit.

"Mmm, how about Nanami?" Suguru suggests. "Fuck her in front of that blonde?" Your heart sinks.

"Oh! That's a good ide- hmm?" Satoru laughs darkly, continuing you fuck into you, his grip on your wrists as relentless as the cock fucking up against your cervix. "God, you fucking clenched around me when Suguru said that. What a dirty slut." Satoru's voice is dark, amused, and even without looking at him, you can bet his usually perfectly kept hair is messy and his face is flushed. He sounds pussydrunk, and his pace begins to stagger.

"No way Mr. Limitless is done already?" Suguru snorts, Satoru scoffs in response. "When you get your turn, let's see how long you last." Satoru rolls his eyes. Satoru becomes annoyed at Suguru's tease, wanting to prove his best friend wrong. And so, he bends you over the teacher's desk, your tits squished against the cold wooden surface as he grabs your hips with both hands, fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. You yelp, eyes rolling to the back of your head, back arching as you held onto the edges of the desk to soften the recoil Satoru's thrusts were causing to your body. He was so big. Both his dick and his stature. As Satoru leaned over you, pressing his chest against your back as he furthered his markings of hickeys and bites upon your shoulder and neck, you felt as though you were cornered, sandwiched with no way to escape. Satoru fucked into you nonstop, and you swear if he kept up his thrusts he would eventually push right into your cervix and fuck his precum into your womb.

You tightened your hands into fists, sobbing in response to a particularly brutal thrust that fucked you so hard you swear you felt it in your stomach. You haven't been pleading for a while now, your moans cutting off your speech completely, Satoru's dick fucking you too dumb to even know what was going on. Where were you again? What time was it? All of your questions would be fucked out of your mind from the drag of Satoru's cock against your walls alone, a vein catching against your velvety walls before he'd slam back into you with no regard to your pain, to your overstimulation, to your sensitivity. He fucked you mercilessly, like a little human fleshlight, as though Satoru wanted to mold your insides to perfectly fit his cock, to ruin you for any other man besides him and Suguru.

"Shit, you still with me?" Satoru asked, his voice low, breathing heavy. He moved your head to rest your cheek against the desk, and he laughed when he saw your fucked out face, eyes rolling back as he kept fucking into you even as he spoke, even as he was trying his best to hold off filling you up with his cum just to avoid Suguru's teasing if he came so soon. Satoru looked at your fucked out face. And although he felt himself fall in love with the view, he needed something new, something more. Sure, your cock drunk state was a view that engraved itself happily into his mind, but he wanted to completely use every part of you. To take all of your firsts as his own. Satoru's pace suddenly flaters, until it comes to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and you sniffle a little. Tears running from your eyes and down to the teacher's desk you were bent over and pinned down into. Satoru gestures to Suguru. Suguru digs into his pocket lazily, before throwing a small bottle to Satoru.

"It'll be a little cold, but don't worry, yeah?" Satoru mused. Even though he was giving you a warning, it was clear his tone held no sense of concern for you. Your eyes widened and hips jolted when you felt something cold and sticky fall onto your asshole. You were about to turn around, when one of Satoru's hands slammed your head back down to hold you flat against the desk.

"N-No! N-No way, stop!" You struggle violently, and Satoru grips your hair roughly, shutting you up through his aggression.

"Oh cool it. Someone would've fucked this pretty ass soon enough, be glad your first is me." Satoru laughs. He ignores your panic, taking his middle finger and swirling it around the rim of your asshole before he pushes it in gently. You scream, biting your bottom lip until you swore you could taste tangy iron. You shut your eyes tightly. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

"Please...p-please I'm begging you... Stop—ah!" Satoru pays no mind to your pleas, thrusting his middle finger into your asshole slowly, curling the tip and wiggling inside you whenever he bottoms out. His fat cock is still stuffed in your cunt, cockwarming him as he preps your other hole.

"I'm being so kind, no? I'm not even moving and I'm prepping you too! Gosh, be a little grateful, Y/N." Satoru hums, his finger prodding and probing deep inside of you. You've never felt anything like this before, and it feels weird. You try to squirm, to buck your hips away, but you hear Satoru sigh in response, suddenly pulling his cock out to the tip and slamming his hips back into you.

"If you keep being ungrateful, I'll stop caring about you completely." He warns. You sob quietly in response, and the grip in your hair remains firm, pressing your cheek hard against the desk. Smoke from Suguru's cigarette permeates throughout the room, before he drops it onto the ground, stomping upon it and sweeping it up into a small trash can by the door. All you're left with is strangled whines, mewls, and tears that fall down your face, until Satoru works his ring finger into your ass as well. You sob at the stretch, clenching around him to try and push away at the foreign intrusion, yet all that seems to achieve is sucking his fingers deeper. Satoru deems you to be stretched out enough, beginning to pull his fingers out of your ass, before pushing them back in. You buck your hips. You don't know if you're trying to pull away or to the stimulation that's being forced onto your body.

You soon know it to be the prior.

Satoru pulls his hips back, slamming back into you as you yelp and sob in response. He begins to fuck into you while simultaneously fingering your ass at the same speed. Soon, Satoru picks it up. Although he's fucking your ass at a medium pace, the cock pressing against your cervix again and again returns to its previous pounding. You're back to sobbing, moaning aimlessly as you struggle pathetically from the overdrive. You swear you're seeing stars when Satoru adds a third finger into your ass, scissoring the three and curling his fingertips inside you, while the head of his cock presses firmly against your g-spot and cervix, dragging back and forth until your vision feels as though it's fading away. You don't know how long it goes for, but soon, Satoru's three fingers are simply buried into your ass as he focuses all of his energy on fucking your sloppy cunt. His hand releases your head, running down the side of your body to catch your clit between his middle and index finger. You jolt, choking out a wonton cry as he begins to swirl your clit aggressively.

"Cum for me, f-fucking cum." Your body seizes up, stiffening as your eyes roll back and Satoru's cock punches against your cervix. Everything builds up. His cock brutally fucking into you, his fingers pinching and circling your clit, and the three fingers in your ass that begin to pick up their movements as they curl deep inside you. You cum hard, sobbing as your pussy and asshole clench around him, spasming and your legs trembling. If it weren't for the desk you were bent over, you would've fallen completely into the floor, collapsed like an empty fuck doll. Yet you weren't done, not until they were. Satoru fucks you through your orgasm.

"C-Cumming, f-fuck! S-Satoru, too much—AH!" Satoru continues to finger your ass, dick pummeling into you and his pace becoming unsteady when he slams back into you for one last time, tip pressed hard against your cervix before you feel hot spruts of cum filling you completely. Satoru thrusts into you slowly to ride out his high, heavy breaths and degrations falling past his lips.

"F-Fuck, such a fucking whore, huh? Shit..." Satoru leaned over you, chest pressed against your back as he regained his breath before pulling out. You felt a spurt of cum slide down your inner thighs, dripping down from your pussy, and you clenched around nothing. Head empty, fucked dumb, fucked senseless. You didn't even register when large hands pulled you off the desk. You barely even reacted when you were manhandled down to straddle Suguru on the floor.

"Please...enough..." Your voice was weak, your entire body sore and trembling lightly. Suguru shushes you gently, holding the back of your head and cradling you so affectionately. "Shh, we'll take care of you. Wanna feel good, hmm?" Suguru whispered, licking up your neck. You sob in response, knowing that no matter how much you tried to fight them, they wouldn't let you go until they had their fun. Suguru grabs your hips firmly, holding your ass up as he pushes his cock into your cunt. You choke out a moan, grabbing onto his shoulders as your head fell against his chest. You simply cried as he began to fuck you. You thought Satoru surely had molded you into the shape of his cock enough to numb the painful stretch, but you never expected Suguru to be so much thicker. You gripped onto his shoulders tightly, his shirt bunching up beneath your fingers as your desperate cries mixed in with confused little moans as you could only take his fat cock that punched your cervix so hard you felt as though your insides would be scrambled and bruised the next day.

"F-Fuck, n-no more—" You whimpered. Suguru paid you no mind, holding you painfully, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips as he pounded into you with deep grunts. Suddenly, you felt another presence from behind you. Satoru knelt behind you, his cockhead sliding up and down your asshole. You panicked, trying to push your hips away, but Suguru's grip remained bruising. Satoru laughed at your pathetic attempt of squirming away, slapping your ass hard, a sting ghosting where his hand had hit.

"O-Ouch—! Ah!" You yelped in response, and Satoru's hands replaced Suguru's grip on your hips. You were about to open your mouth to protest once more, but Suguru's hands cupped your face and pulled you into a deep, rough kiss. Your moans muffled into his mouth, a confused gasp cut off as his tongue slipped past your sultry lips, your eyes rolling into the backs of your head when Satoru slowly sunk his cock deep into your ass, while Suguru's pace was still unrelenting as he continued to fuck into you like a ragdoll, bruising your cervix and stretching you completely.

Soon, you were an absolute mess. Satoru and Suguru's paces were completely out of sync. Satoru fucked you rough, hard, and fast, his hips slapping against yours as your ass would recoil in response. He held you so firmly, holding no regard for your smaller body as he held you still with too much strength than needed, just to remind you of your place. Satoru moaned each time you'd clench around him, aka each time the tip of Suguru's cock would punch against your cervix once more. Suguru's pace was similarly rough, although he and Satoru would fuck you just out of sync, making sure that whenever Satoru had pulled out to the tip, Suguru's cock would be nestled deep inside of you—and whenever Suguru would pull out your cunt, Satoru would be slamming right back into you. You were nothing but a pretty little fleshlight for the two by now. The two men letting out a series of grunts and low moans as you use your body to their own pleasure, breaths heavy against your ears, deep marks of purple, blue, and bites scattered across your neck, shoulders, upper back, waist, inner thighs. You were completely defiled by them. And fuck, how did they love that. Like a twisted sense of being the first to have something all to themselves, to ruin it for anyone else who wanted to try having a taste.

Your thoughts were completely gone by now, filled with nothing but a cycle: a numb buzz of pleasure that would wind in your womb, a climax to your orgasm, getting fucked right through it, rinse and repeat. How many times has it been? How many times have you cum? You feel as though they have been pounding you for hours, and you shut your eyes tightly, thighs trembling when the coil in your stomach begins to build up once more as Suguru's cock fucked into your cervix, as Satoru's dick pounded into your ass.

"C-Cumming, 'm gonna c-cum..." Your voice was strained, slurred, intoxicated. Satoru laughed from behind you, and Suguru began to circle at your overstimulated clit once more.

"Put on a show."

"Cum then."

You came hard, your grip on Suguru's shoulders tight as you moaned loudly. Suguru stuttered. "F-Fuck, gonna fill you up...make you mine." He rasped, slamming into you one final time before he came deep, hot cum filling you up completely, his dick slowing down his pace to properly jut its final ropes of cum deep into your cunt. Satoru's pace faltered as well, before he gave one harsh thrust that had you recoil forward, pressing your cheek harder against Suguru's chest with a yelp as Satoru bottomed out and filled your ass with his hot cum.

The classroom was quiet. Quiet as opposed to the three mix of heavy breaths, your three bodies tangled together, two cocks stuffing you impossibly full. Satoru was the first to pull out, sitting back on his heels as he pushed his hair back. Suguru grabbed the underside of your armpits firmly, lifting you up and off his dick, a mix of his and Satoru's cum dripping out and onto his abs. Suguru stands up, pulling you up to lay you gently on a table as he leans down to your sloppy cunt. You're completely dazed, and you can only muster a pathetic jolt and whine as Suguru begins to lick your cunt slowly. Your eyes zone out and only occasional whimpers slip past your lips. He laps your pussy up clean, holding your hips firmly as he swirls his tongue around your clit slowly, as though to apologize for being so rough with you. Suguru pulls away momentarily, a string of saliva connecting him to your cunt. His hand slides up the underside of your thighs, pushing your knees into your chest with one hand as he leans down to your ass. His tongue rims you gingerly, and you moan quietly, sobbing so weakly from the final drive of overstimulation.

Once both your holes are clean, Suguru and Satoru gather up your uniform, stealing your panties but being kind enough to fix your uniform. Satoru pulls you up, holding you bridal style as you close your eyes, drifting off to sleep. Suguru stands in front of Satoru, his face still flushed and breath still heaving.

"Should we get plan b?"

"Why the hell would we do that?"

You're watching...

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wileys-russo · 2 months ago

Note

Leah Williamson “but mummy said yes” at home or training with little Mila, please :)

part of mila's universe - turned out a little longer and a little angstier than originally planned! good cop, bad cop II l.williamson

"lee's not normally late?" alessia asked with a slight frown of concern as you bent down to lace up your boots, sat beside her on the bench in the change rooms.

"she took mila out for breakfast. she's in a phase where leah is her favorite person and i'm some horrible wench who just cooks for her and cleans her mess." you grumbled, feeling alessia's hand reach out to squeeze your shoulder.

"hey. you know that isn't what she thinks! she adores you, and leah." the blonde assured firmly but you shrugged her off, not in the mood to be consoled as you'd been screamed at all morning by the hysterical blonde tornado that was your daughter.

you'd barely glanced up as leah had ushered the four year old out the front door, trying to call out to you and offer some comfort but when mila made a dash for the road you glanced up as the front door slammed closed and crumbled.

"not at the moment she doesn't, she told me she hates me about five times this morning." you mumbled, sniffling and forcing down the tears which threatened to spill over, your best friends face falling as she tried to pull you into a hug.

"not now less. i love you its just- i'm not in the mood." you forced a smile shrugging her arm off as the blonde nodded in understanding but you could see she was struggling not to speak. "what?" you sighed, standing up and raising an eyebrow.

"well do you think you should train when your heads like this?" alessia asked gently, wincing at the sour look which crossed your face and your eyes rolled. "i'm fine less. joys of parenthood!" you plastered another fake smile on your face and marched out of the change rooms, the girl scrambling to grab a water bottle and hurry after you.

you deflected with shrugs everyone who continued to ask of leahs whereabouts, having left your phone in the change rooms when it was about five minutes until you were due to start and there still wasn't any sign of your wife a small pit of guilt began to gnaw at your stomach.

but right as you were about to ask to be excused to try calling her the vice captain came bursting out of the double doors of the training complex, nearly tripping over her own feet as she hopped and jumped trying to wrestle on her second boot.

the snickers and giggles at her predicament from some of the younger girls were firmly shut down by the fierce glare sent their way by your wife, everyone grouping off for warm ups as you gave the older girl a curious look.

"is everything alright?" you asked quietly as the blonde nodded, grunting as she pushed her heel into her boot and knelt down to tie it up. "fine! traffic." the blonde waved it off as you hummed, chalking it up to exactly that.

mila would be off in the creche until you all broke up for lunch, with amanda and manu both soon due to have children of their own arsenal had hired two full time qualified staff with child care experience, and renovated one of the old offices into a daycare of sorts.

something both you and leah were immensely grateful for considering there was only so much stimulation you could provide a bubbly energetic four year old who had the power of the cute and was promptly the greatest distraction to the team ever known.

you found your mood remained quite miserable throughout the session however despite your best friends worries you didn't allow it to affect your training, still ever careful to avoid injury and focus on football, not the swirling doubts in the back of your hear telling you that you were a terrible mother.

but nothing was lost on your wife who knew you like the back of her own hand, who was certain if she attempted to check in on you or provide any sort of comfort and assurance during the session it would be rejected, she waited for the right moment.

and that came when the pair of you had wrapped up, your team successfully winning the round robin cool down games and everyone shaking hands, the staff dismissing everyone for lunch after stretching.

"come here." leah grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side, alessia catching her eye and nodding as leah sent her a knowing look.

"i love you, and mila loves you. more than anything in the world, you know that yeah?" her hands gently cupped your cheeks and her heart ached at the sadness in your eyes that you could hide from anyone but her.

"oh my love." leah sighed with a pained smile, your face tucking into her shoulder as the tears you'd held at bay came bursting to the surface, soft sniffles masked into the material of her training top as her strong arms held you tightly.

"it doesn't feel that way. it feels like i'm failing as a mother!" you admitted quietly once your tears had turned to the occasional sniffle, leah softly kissing your tear stained cheeks and frowning.

"hey. baby you do not ever say that yeah? you are the best mother mila could ever ask for. you are patient, kind, attentive, so loving, loyal, supportive-" leah listed off with her fingers, a small smile curling its way into your lips and a slight chuckle leaving your mouth.

"what? whats funny?" your wife paused to question, looking around and behind her to seek the source of amusement. "you're doing it again. the upside down frowny thing!" you smiled properly, smoothing out her angry eyebrows as the blondes cheeks heated up with a slight pink tint.

"well i don't do it on purpose do i? i have an expressive face!" your wife huffed, and you let out a proper laugh as again her scowl caused her eyebrows to curl downward.

"so long as it makes you laugh." your wife rolled her eyes fondly, pulling you into another tight hug as your chin rested on her shoulder and her hand rubbed circles into your back.

"thank you, i love you." you mumbled with an appreciative kiss to her jaw and then another to her lips. "always. i love ya more kid!" the blonde winked exaggerating her harsh milton keynes accent as you pulled a face.

"i hate when you say that." you shook your head as the older girl grinned, her arm settling across your shoulder as you both made your way across the pitch toward the training centre, drawing you into her side and kissing your cheek a few times.

"i know. which is exactly why i say it!"

however things very quickly took another turn south as you and leah arrived to collect mila for lunch, your good mood leah had just spent the last ten minutes bolstering smashed back down to nothing as mila kicked off yet again.

"no! i am not leaving with mama, she's mean and naughty!" the tiny blonde huffed, clinging to leahs leg and glaring up at you as you deflated entirely, mumbling to your wife how you'd just meet her at lunch and hurrying away.

"mila." leah squatted down with a stern look on her face, getting down to your daughters level, more than ready to tell her off about how she spoke to you just like she had been this morning, and the entirity of this week in fact.

but once again leah had a weakness, which was that the four year old knew exactly how to play her like a fool.

so with some crocodile tears and a wobbly bottom lip leah was cooing and fussing over the girl, picking her up and bouncing her up and down like when she was a baby, the warnings about her behavior dying on her tongue in seconds flat.

"say thank you to meg and andie please bubba." leah whispered, both of the girls who worked in the daycare waving goodbye as mila blew them both a kiss and clung on tightly to leah, tears now forgotten as she babbled away about what a lovely morning she had.

there was also something new with mila besides her attitude toward you that you'd failed to see, however it wouldn't be long until you realised and even leah had failed to think that far ahead as the two of them entered the cafateria and mila was fussed over by her aunties.

you however were already sat at a table with kyra, laia, vic and alessia, shutting down their questions of why you weren't sat where you normally would as alessia gave the other girls a firm look to leave it as you remained quiet.

their worries increased when you made no move to get up and go toward your daughter the moment she arrived, only alessia catching the look of longing you threw the small girls way as her hand settled on your back rubbing comforting circles.

"do you want me to go try and to talk to her?" your best friend asked quietly as you shrugged, just wanting to avoid another very public tantrum as you'd already accepted mila was not going to settle this mystery problem she had with you right now.

"don't eat my potatos, or you can all walk home." alessia very seriously threatened the three younger girls eyeing off her tray as she stood, having been her turn for carpool today, heading off toward the table where leah and mila sat.

leah had also shut down all of the questions about your not sitting with them, beth in particular earning herself a stomped on foot when she wouldn't stop pestering your wife about it, causing mila to giggle and beth to pretend leah had broken her foot.

she was mid performance when alessia sat down, mila now no longer interested as she launched herself at your best friend who nearly dropped the four year old who jumped suddenly from lia's lap into her own.

"aunty lessi!" mila beamed, arms flung around the strikers neck and hugging her tightly as leah watched with a smile and alessia tickled the small blonde who squealed and tried to jump away.

"hey tiny, can i ask you something?" alessia asked, giving leah a look as she glanced over curiously, ignoring the way the older blonde shook her head furiously to try and divert her from the chosen topic.

"why are you mad at ma-" but the question stopped as alessia noticed the one thing leah had failed to remember, hands grabbing the four year olds cheeks and turning her head side to side with her mouth open in shock.

"when did you get your ears pierced??" alessia asked in shock, leah choking on a piece of chicken as kim quickly smacked her on the back and she spit it out with a wheeze.

"ew! mummy thats really yuck." mila made a face of disgust, scooting as far away from leah as she could, balancing on alessia's right leg as she striker held her steady, still staring at the small diamonds in her ears in shock.

"she hasn't always had them done?" beth asked with a skeptical look, fork in her mouth and eyes narrowed as alessia's rolled. "no! she has not." the girl clarified as leah went bright red and her best friend picked up that maybe this was a lot newer than they realised.

"tell me you did not do that this morning? and without asking your wife?" lia hissed quietly, grabbing leahs arm and spinning her around to face her, the vice captain shrinking away from the swiss womans fierce glare.

"i could tell you that...but it would maybe sort of be a, lie?" leah winced, lia swearing in german and running her hands down her face with a look of disbelief at the defender who rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

"she's wanted them done for ages! we went for breakfast and then she was a bit grizzly and hyper so we walked around the shopping centre for a bit, we walked past the piercing parlor and well one thing lead to another and..." leah trailed off, flinching as alessia firmly punched her in the shoulder.

"hey! it is not nice to hit people aunty lessi." mila warned with a scowl, wagging a finger at the older girl who gave your wife a glare, face softening at the adorable four year old in her lap attempting to sternly tell her off.

"sorry mil, that was a grown up accident. you're right we shouldn't hit people!" alessia agreed with a nod despite holding no regret for her actions. "hey tiny i thought mama said you had to be a bit bigger before you got your ears pierced?" alessia asked with raised eyebrows as your daughter nodded.

"she did, she's mean and smelly and bad. but mummy said yes! i love you mummy!" mila beamed as leah sheepishly shrunk into her chair, alessia helping your daughter down at her request as she ran off to go sit with katie and caitlin, clambering up into the irish womans lap and proudly showing off her new earrings it would appear she'd also forgotten about until now.

"you are so dead leah you know she wanted to wait until mila was older and she already feels like shit today. go and fix it, now!" alessia growled quietly as leahs head dropped, pushing her chair back and standing but it would appear it was much too late as mila had continued her rounds, now showing off to kyra.

leah might be your wife and love you fiercly, but alessia had been your best friend since you were ten and no one was more protective over you than she could be.

leah herself was shell shocked by the shovel talk she got from the normally soft spoken kind blonde when the two of you had first started dating.

"mila, can you show mama please?" you called out, almost certain you misheard your daughter just tell laia about her new 'ear bling'. leah wouldn't, surely she wouldn't.

"no!" mila snapped, smile turning to a scowl as she stuck her tongue out at you and raced away, but not fast enough for you to miss the two little studs in her lobes, ignoring kyra asking what that was all about as you slowly stood.

leahs blood ran cold as your eyes met hers, burning with anger and you silently pointed to the exit, storming off as your wife nearly knocked over her tray in her haste to hurry after you, alessia and lia both making sure to keep an eye on your daughter.

"baby just listen-" leah started the moment the cafateria doors swung shut and she stood with you in the hallway.

"no. oh no no no, do not baby me right now leah. those better be clip ons, because i know my wife wouldn't go behind my back and pierce our daughters ears when we agreed she was too young. would she?" you asked, scarily calm and knuckles going lily white from how hard your fists were clenched together.

"um. well, look. um really-" the normally smooth spoken blonde was a mess as she tripped and stumbled over her words, unable to string a sentence together as your eyes squeezed shut and you pinched your nose between your thumb and pointer finger.

"leah catherine williamson you fucking stupid, selfish-"

however before you could unleash the fury bubbling up inside you at the taller girl the doors burst open again and a tiny body came charging out, crashing into leahs legs.

"mummy you left me behind!" mila frowned up the blonde who watched your face drop at the fact your daughter wasn't even acknowledging you right now, the anger coursing through you slowly bleeding away into utter rejection and fear.

"hey. bubba can we please have a chat? a big girl talk!" you knelt down and tried to ask gently, giving her a smile as soft as you could muster as she turned to look at you.

"not your bubba! i'm mummys bubba. go away!" your daughter snapped right as alessia came tumbling out of the door with kyra hot on her heels, halfway through telling off the younger australian for being terrible at hide and seek clearly assuming they'd lost the four year old who was now right in front of them.

"woah. harsh!" kyra muttered with a wince, alessia quickly shoving her back through the doors before she could say another word, a crash inside meaning she'd perhaps pushed a little harder than intended.

"mila no you're mine and mummys bubba. our little legacy, remember?" you tried to force a smile, winded from her words but it was about to get worse before it got better. "no. now just mummys bubba! i hate you! not my mama!" mila yelled, turning and pressing herself into leahs legs as you looked up to your wife for help.

but when all she could do was wordlessly open and close her mouth, quickly scooping up your daughter who'd begun to cry and start comforting her, you crumbled.

"tell them i feel sick and i went home early." you forced out, directed at your best friend who was ready to intervene but knew it wasn't her place, barely able to get your words out before a dry sob sounded and you hurried off with your hand over your mouth.

"hey, mila. you're a big girl now yeah?" alessia decided this had gone far enough and if leah wasn't going to say something, she was. your daughter lifted her head from where it had been buried in leahs neck, tear tracks down her cheeks as she nodded slowly.

"well. big girls talk about why they might be feeling yuck, they don't yell and throw tantrums, and you're a big girl now right?" alessia asked gently as mila nodded again, sniffling and wiping her nose on the collar of your wifes training top.

with a nod from alessia the three of them headed outside toward the pitch, knowing lunch was over soon and the girls would be flooding out. it would seem the fresh air had snapped leah out of whatever hole her head had gotten stuck in as the three of them sat down on the grass.

"so bubba. why are you upset with mama? she loves you very much and you haven't been very nice to her mila." leah warned, alessia now taking a back seat and waiting for the four year old to speak.

"no, no more tears. be a big girl and tell me whats going on in here please bubba." leah shook her head, moving mila out of her lap as she cried out and tried to curl into her, standing her on the grass and gently poking her stomach.

"mama is mean." was all she got out with a frown, leah sighing and closing her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts, heart breaking as the image of the utter rejection and pain in your face from moments ago flashed through her head.

"why do you think that?" leah pushed, mila huffing and sitting down on the grass, crossing her legs and digging her finger into the pitch. "all she says is no! no no no no no." mila chanted shaking her head, scowling at the grass in a scarily accurate impression of a much younger and moodier leah.

"i'm gonna go check on her." alessia mouthed, slowly getting to her feet and pointing back to the training centre as leah nodded, grateful that you'd always have the blonde in her corner but wracked with guilt for how poorly she'd handled this.

she was supposed to be your wife, it was supposed to be her comforting you, her defending you, her always in your corner for better or worse, in sickness and in health, always.

but motherhood, well it brought with it and held in its hand a whole other host of challenges.

"but mummy says yes. yes yes yes yes, like with my ear bling!" mila perked back up, grinning happily as leah winced, she had really dug herself into it this time.

"okay. serious talk time!" leah sighed, taking mila's hands into her own whose grin never faded. "bubba i know you're a big girl, but you're still mine and mama's baby." leah started, shutting down the little girls protests with a firm shake of her head and a gentle squeeze of her hand.

"you are. mama and i love you more than anything in the whole wide world, and sometimes we have to say no to things if they mean you might get hurt or upset. sometimes you might not know why we-well why mama says no. but she says no because she's a very very good mama who wants to keep you safe, and she always knows best. okay?" leah started, mila slowly nodding.

"but you can always ask why. you can always ask mama or me why we might say no, because mummy needs to say no sometimes too, it isn't fair for it to always be mama. and it isn't fair for you to yell at mama and make her feel bad, because words can hurt too. remember?" leah continued softly as mila nodded again.

"i hurt mama?" mila asked and leah sighed as she had to nod and the girls eyes welled up with tears. "come here bubba." the defender wrapped her up into a tight hug, shushing her softly.

"is mama gonna be mad at me? i don't hate her! i don't! promise!" mila sobbed as leah pushed her flyaways out of her face and softly kissed her forehead. "mama would never be mad at you mila, she loves you too much. but you need to tell her you don't hate her, and say sorry for not being nice. because we have to use nice words with people so we don't hurt their feelings, okay?" leah warned gently as mila nodded, wriggling out of the older girls grip.

"come on mummy we have to go say sorry to mama!" and just like that she was off, surely destined to be a cross country superstar as her tiny legs carried her at a speed leah couldn't even keep up with.

"where is she?" leah came to a screaming halt as mila stopped with a frown, not reallyy sure where she should be running. "lets go see if she's with aunty less in the change rooms." leah took her hand, all but dragged down the corridor where sure enough you were sat crying into your best friends shoulder.

as the doors smacked against the wall you hurried to wipe your eyes, not sure who was coming in but not wanting anyone else to see you in this state as you cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself.

but it was a messy bundle of blonde hair and a tiny red arsenal jersey which came flying inside, climbing up onto the bench and launching at you much to your utter shock, freezing up a little as mila clung onto you.

"mama i don't hate you. i never hate you! and you're not mean, or smelly, or bad, or naughty. i'm sorry!" mila rambled out all in one breath, stopping to gasp in air as her eyes welled up with tears and her arms wrapped around your neck like a python.

"hey hey hey, why the tears my love? no tears." you assured softly feeling her little body shake against you, holding her tightly as leah skidded inside next also very out of breath, alessia nodding for her to give the pair of you a moment, taking her aside to fill her in on what you'd said.

"its okay mila baby, i love you, i'll always love you." you promised, exhaling in relief as your daughter mumbled things into your jumper you couldn't quite understand but you rubbed her back soothingly letting her get them out.

once she'd calmed down and alessia had filled leah in you caught your best friends eye who slowly made her way over, offering to take mila to the gym with her.

"no i wanna go with mama." mila pressed a wet kiss to your cheek making you smile as she clung on tightly. "mama and mummy need to have a grown up talk. and you always say those are boring don't you babe?" you tickled her stomach as she giggled and squirmed away.

"yeah. super boring!" mila agreed, both you and leah assuring her you'd be right in the gym soon as she left with alessia and the room suddenly filled with a brand new type of uncomfortable silence.

"i am-" "we should-"

you both shared a look as leah nodded for you to continue, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "can i have a hug please?" you asked quietly, your wife shell shocked that that was what you had to say.

"what? yeah course you can, come here my girl." leah scooted over to clear the gap between you, a deep exhale leaving your lips as you tucked yourself into her arms, a few beats of silence falling before you pulled away.

"okay, i needed that thank you. now you stupid selfish idiot! you pierced her ears!?" you scowled, smacking your wife repeatedly who held her hands up to shield her face.

"i know i know! i've been forcing you to be the bad cop so i can be the good cop all the time and thats not fair to you, at all. i need to put my foot down and say no too, so you can say yes too." leah instantly admitted as you looked on with surprise.

"or we could just both stay on the same page." you suggested, leah nodding enthusiastically. "brilliant, even better! you're so smart and sexy and funny and the best mum and-" leah rambled as you rolled your eyes, leaning in to cut her off with a kiss, sending her silent.

"shut up." you chuckled, the blonde nodding, motioning as if to lock her lips and throw away the key as you bumped your shoulder into hers.

"i really am sorry. genuinely baby girl, so sorry." "oh i know, which is why you'll be on laundry and dishes and weeding the garden for the next month!" you patted her knee as the blonde sighed but made no move to argue.

"did i mention you're very sexy and smart?" "mm yeah we covered that." "will any form of flattery get me off dishes?" "leah." "a joke! humor, just using humor, you married me for my humor." "well i didn't marry you for your cooking ability babe." "oi!"

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

759 notes · View notes

tinycoffeeroom · 2 months ago

Text

birds of a feather | daniel ricciardo

face claim: N/A ♡

request: here !

pairing: daniel ricciardo x british!reader

cw: mentions of chr*stian horner, singapore gp 2024

a/n: sorry for the long hiatus but i just had to come back and make something for danny. i've loved that man since i got into f1 and the idea that i won't see him on track anymore hurts so deeply. thank you for the memories honey badger, you will always have a place here on tinycoffeeroom <3

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Hi baby.

Hi love.

You sound exhausted, did you not sleep well last night?

Not really, I've been trying to go over strategies with the team, but nothing seems to be working. There's no way I'm getting in the points this week.

I'm sorry Danny, I know how much you've been working on this...

Have you asked them about that power unit thingy you were talking about?

Yeah... they don't have the time to test it and add it in before this race or even COTA.

What about the new rear wing?

Well...

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Anyway, enough about this shit show. How are you, darling? I miss you.

I miss you too, pretty boy. It sucks that this conference overlaps the race, I wish I was there so bad. Just wanna hug you.

Me too, y/n. Me too. I'm coming back as soon as the race is over. At least we have 4 weeks before the next one. Did you manage to book time off?

I did! 2 whole weeks to follow you across the globe watching you strut your stuff! Hopefully we can get Horsey back for the memories.

Blake's been emailing the owner, so hopefully Horsey will make a reappearance. (LAUGHS)

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Oh wait, Helmut's calling me, I'll call you back babe.

Ok! Lemme know what he says!

Always do. Love you.

Love you too pretty boy.

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It had been a last minute decision, choosing to fly out to Singapore. You knew Daniel would never put his own needs above yours, and while the conference was important for your career, he was important to you too.

It had been easy getting everything sorted. By the time you were texting Blake about flying over, he had already sent you a message, a simple "you know?".

A quick email to your boss, a semi lie spun about a family emergency, and a whirlwind of packing bags later, you found yourself sitting in Heathrow.

Your fingers twitched nervously as you checked the time differences between England and Singapore, double checking Daniel wouldn't find it strange if you didn't respond to his texts for the next 13 hours.

Your flight left at 8PM Singapore time, that gave you at least 10 hours before he would wake up for the race.

Blake had sneakily upgraded your tickets to first class so you could sleep comfortably on the flight and be ready to go straight into race day, or night, when you landed.

Tapping your phone awake, you smile at the lock screen staring back at you.

You and Daniel had gone away with a few other couples from the grid, a well needed break from the stress of Formula 1. In the midst of a late night beach walk with Charles and Alex, Daniel had grabbed your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder.

Your shrieks of laughter had drawn some weird looks from those around you, but neither of you cared. You'd clawed your way back, legs settling tightly around Daniel's waist as his arms wrapped tightly around yours.

You didn't even notice the flash of Alex's phone, too enthralled in the wide smile encapsulating the man holding you, all teeth and gums and happiness dripping from him like sweet honey. A quick peck to the bridge of his nose and then the corner of his mouth was enough for him to lower you gently to the ground, arms still encompassing you tightly.

The sound of Charles fake gagging beside you finally pulled the two of you out of the lovesick stupor you'd been caught in, eyes roaming the shadows cast across your lover's face from the fading sunset.

When Alex had texted you the photo once you were back in the hotel room, limbs wrapped around one another in the cool, air conditioned room, you'd chuckled lightly, drawing Daniel's attention.

"What's so funny?" The hand gripping your thigh draped lazily across his lap squeezed once, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly.

Turning the phone to face him, you watched his eyes light up, that same dazzling smile spreading as he took in the photo.

"Send that to me."

You hummed in response, airdropping the photo to him as he pulled your thigh higher up his lap. As he leaned forward, lips searching for yours under the dim lamp light, you quickly set the photo as your lock screen, no doubt in your mind that Daniel would soon do the same.

A tannoy drags you back to the present.

"All passengers for flight SIA324, please make your way to the gate. Boarding will begin in 15 minutes."

Typing out a quick goodnight message to Daniel, you pocket your phone, sighing as you make your way towards what could be the last time you see Daniel in a Formula 1 car.

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ynstagram uploaded three stories to their close friends

replies:

lilymhe 💔 if i knew you were coming to singapore, i would have come too! ↳ ynstagram was a last minute decision sorry babe xx ↳ lilymhe ... don't tell me ↳ ynstagram 🙃

maxverstappen1 how did you get time off?? i thought you were super busy with work ↳ ynstagram claimed a family emergency, even if danny doesn't want me here, i needed to come ↳ maxverstappen1 he needs you y/n, more than i think even he knows

landonorris does dan know you're coming? ↳ ynstagram nope, blocked him from my close friends for a bit ↳ landonorris sneaky, i like it ↳ landonorris see you soon y/n, glad you'll be here :)

iamrebeccad you're coming to the gp??? come to ferrari hospitality if you can!!!! alex misses you 🥺 ↳ ynstagram don't think i'll be leaving vcarb this weekend, we can meet up for brunch soon though 🩷 ↳ iamrebeccad oh... yeah sure, just let me know 💜

blakefriend hope you got to the hotel alright, me and dan are out for his training session, did you get the keycard ok? ↳ ynstagram i did, and the paddock passes. thanks for this blake, i know with everything going on, last minute admin is the last thing you need ↳ blakefriend if it means dan can have some sense of calm in this mess, i'd do it 10 times over ↳ blakefriend we'll be back at 1pm, see you in a few hours ↳ ynstagram 🫡 see you then

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Getting from the airport to the hotel had been easy enough. Piling the bags you had brought from Monaco to London and now to Singapore onto the only trolley remaining, you make your way down to the Arrivals.

Stepping through the automatic doors, your eyes dart between the people around you. Families reuniting with bright laughter and happy tears, lovers sharing intimate kisses under the harsh airport lights. Businessmen already glued to the phone in their hands as they weave through bodies with ease, their bodies twisting and turning like a well rehearsed waltz.

A man in a black suit jacket and oversized chauffeur hat catches your eye, his eyes following your figure as you try to move around the other passengers. You glance down at the large piece of paper held just above his waist.

“Y/N L/N” is scrawled in large black letters across the paper, chicken scratch that looks very much like Blake’s.

Making your way over, the man tips the edge of his chauffeur hat slightly, reaching a hand out to shake yours.

You want to apologise for the clamminess of your palms as you accept his welcome, but before you can speak, he’s reaching across to take the trolley from you, his head tilting briefly in the opposite direction.

You follow behind him, feet double stepping to keep up as he expertly navigates the sprawling grounds of Singapore Airport.

By the time you reach the car out front, a sheen of sweat covers your upper lip and you cringe, feeling your t-shirt slowly cling to your back.

The man opens the boot, then the back door and ushers you in. The cold air conditioning feels like a welcome home kiss, brushing away the humidity that clings to your skin from the small journey between the airport and the car. By the time the man sits in the driver's seat, your eyes are slipping closed, head lolling against the headrest behind you.

You didn’t mean to sleep for the entire car journey, but you’d barely been able to rest for more than 20 minutes on the flight, opting instead to cycle through nonsense films to play in the background as the thoughts in your mind waged a war on your emotions.

It had been a tense 13 hours, trying to work out what had happened on that phone call between Daniel and Helmut. You knew there were talks of him not extending his contract, but leaving mid season?

Your Danny? The self proclaimed and well known Honey Badger, king of late braking and divebombing his grid mates. You’d been with him since the Red Bull days, and even if he wasn’t winning podiums, or even points sometimes, you thought there would be more of an uproar about this from him.

This wasn’t the same man you’d watch nearly fight a waiter because he refused to bring you a new meal after they’d brought out a completely different dish, the same man who left everything on the tarmac and often dragged you to his trailer post race interviews for a well deserved nap.

His texts had been despondent, almost like he believed this was the goodbye he deserved.

That’s the part you couldn’t move past. The idea that he was going to finish his last race without the flair of Daniel Ricciardo, no doughnuts, no grid walk, no party to celebrate the last 13 years.

After the McLaren debacle, you understood why he chose to fly under the radar. With COVID and the situation with Oscar, he’d been more than willing to slip away peacefully but this was different.

This was Red Bull. Or the subsidiary at least. The team he’d spent the longest time in Formula 1 with. The team who took him in as a junior, that he’d won 7 Grand Prix’s with, scored well over 1000 points racing for.

You would have thought that they would have wanted to give him a goodbye worthy of what he had brought to the team.

By the time the chauffeur shakes you gently awake, your mind is no clearer but one thing is for sure. Daniel will not face this storm alone.

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The time of Daniel getting back from his workout was looming slowly. Since entering the hotel room, you’d hopped in the shower, scrubbing the aeroplane smell from you. The suitcases were lined up against the wall and you were currently lazing on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok. Every so often, you’d flick to the notification screen, just in case Blake’s incoming text had somehow slipped past without you catching it.

Your eyes flutter slowly closed, maybe a 10 minute nap wouldn’t hurt. Before you can lock your phone and settle into the plush pillows, a notification pings through. Eyes darting open, you catch the banner notification before it slides up.

They were in the lobby.

“Fuckin’ hell Blake.” Scrambling up from the bed, you round the corner and make sure there is no sign of you in the living room section. Your shoes are tucked away in the bottom of the closet, jacket strewn across the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

The telltale ring of a keycard being swiped rings through the air and you slide to hide behind the wall, heart thumping against your chest. Doubt begins to swirl through your mind. What are you even doing here? What if he didn’t invite any of his family or friends because he didn’t want them to see him go out like this? Would he want you to?

Loud voices echo through the hallway, Aussie slang thrown about but you focus on the one thick with a Perth twang.

Your Danny.

“Mate, I’m just gonna go point Percy at the porcelain.” Blake’s voice grows louder as he walks through to the bedroom. He locks eyes with you, giving you a quick one armed hug as you exchange quiet greetings.

Once enough time has passed, he gestures with a finger to his lips to be quiet, head popping around the corner to Daniel.

“Did you bring Y/N’s jacket with you by mistake?”

A confused “No” comes from the living room before Blake leans across you, grabbing the clothing from the chair. He holds it aloft, in Daniel’s line of sight.

“No idea what that’s doing here, mate. You know I always bring a t-shirt of Y/N’s which should be under the pillow.”

Your heart swells at the statement, you had no idea he’d sneak something of yours with him whenever you couldn’t attend races. The earlier doubts dissipate, you knew right here, with Daniel, was where you were supposed to be.

“Strange… oh! I know what’s happened.” Blake shoots you a grin before wrapping a hand around your arm, pulling you into the doorway.

Smiling softly at Daniel, you huff lightly at the way his eyes widen almost comically as he takes you in. Silence spreads through the room, the two of you locked in intense eye contact as Blake slowly moves aside to let you reunite.

“Hello, my love.”

Daniel’s bottom lip wobbles slightly and before you can process it, he’s launched across the room, almost body slamming you with the force he runs at you with. Arms latch tightly around your waist, his head tucked tightly into your neck, trembling lips resting against your pulse point.

“What, I, how?” The words are muffled against your skin, the edges of them tear soaked as the collar of your t-shirt dampens to match.

Carding your hand through his still sweaty curls, you scratch lightly against his scalp. “As soon as you told me, Blake texted me. He booked me on the next flight.”

Daniel’s head pops out from his hiding place, all three of you ignoring the tears smattering his cheeks. He looks across to Blake, who simply shrugs his shoulders, reaching down to grab his gym bag.

“You needed them, and they needed you. It was a no brainer. Also, don’t get sappy with me, I charged the flight to your business card.” A chuckle follows and he claps Daniel on the back once, nodding in your direction before heading out the front door, the sound of it closing echoing slightly.

Daniel’s eyes track from the closing door back to you, wide in wonderment. “But your conference?”

Shrugging, you lean forward to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek. “Called in a family emergency. There’s no way I was letting you go through this alone.” You lift your hand up to his face, tracing a path across the same cheek you’d just kissed. “I know your parents or your friends can't be here, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to deal with everything going on with no kind of support. I know Blake’s here but-”

You’re cut off by his lips covering yours, desperation seeping through as the words die on your tongue. The taste of salt blooms, the tears still dripping slowly from his eyes. Yours join in quick succession. A rushed “I love you” slips from your mouth the moment you part, his own coming straight after.

The slide of his lips against your own turns molasses slow, the cooled sweat on both of you soon making way for its heated counterpart as you gravitate closer to one another. Warm hands sneak under your t-shirt, the palms cupping the swell of your hips as Daniel whispers words of gratitude through stolen breaths. Your own hands rest against his neck, nails creating slight grooves under the pressure.

Knowing what will come tomorrow, you take in this moment, second by second. The feel of his sweat slick skin under your palms, the slight stubble on his jaw scratching at your chin, the way his heart beats erratically in his chest pressed close to yours.

Every part of this Daniel you memorise, capturing each memory in a gold plated frame. You store them away in the evergrowing gallery of your brain dedicated to the man before you, seal them under lock and key for your eyes only.

You always knew that one day, you’d share them with him. When all the racing was over and the two of you had the house with the white picket fence, or more aptly, the farm with the white picket fence. You’d dissect every moment of him you stored away, stacked one by one for safekeeping. From the moment the two of you met in that busy London street, every grand prix win, every high followed by every low. Just in case he began to forget the man he was, the man he would still be.

You just didn’t realise that day would be coming so soon.

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ynstagram danielricciardo

[caption 2: gorgeous boy xx]

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After the race, you’d left Daniel to his own devices. You knew he would want to spend his time wandering around the track, soaking in every moment of what could be his last ever race.

Grabbing a ride back with Blake, the two of you stick to small talk, neither able to formulate the words you truly wanted to say.

He’d given you a brief goodbye in the lobby, arms wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before the two of you separated, him taking the stairs and you choosing to ride in the elevator.

Shuffling through the front door, you kick your shoes off, nudging them next to the other pairs in the entryway. On the way up, you’d sent Daniel a quick text to let you know when he was on his way back.

Expecting him to respond around midnight, you slowly work through your nighttime routine, opting to wear one of his shirts to bed instead of the pyjamas you’d neatly packed.

Slipping into bed, you unlock your phone, squinting at the brightness. Still no messages from Daniel, the 1:27am at the top of your phone making you sigh deeply. Reaching over, you plug your phone onto charge before starting up a well loved podcast, choosing an episode you could probably quote from memory with how often you relistened to it.

As the dulcet voices fall away to background noise, you settle in for the night, head half shoved into the pillow beside you, Daniel’s scent still lingering from this morning.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Blearily opening your eyes as the other side of the bed dips lightly, you quickly tap your phone to see the time. A bold 3:57am blinks back at you briefly before the screen goes dark once more.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry babe.” Daniel’s voice whispers in the darkness, hand winding its way around your waist to pull you back to his chest.

Resting your hand over his, fingers interlocking in the open spaces, you squeeze twice. “s’ok, wanted to see you when you got back anyway.”

Silence follows and before you can roll over to look at Daniel, his face presses into the centre of your shoulder blades, the skin warm through the fabric of the shirt.

“Danny?”

He stays quiet, the hand on your waist gripping tighter. You can hear the way his breath starts to shake on the inhale, the tears from his eyes slowly dampening the back of his shirt currently wrapped around you.

“Danny, lemme see you.” A shake of his head rustles the shirt. “Baby, please.”

His grip on your waist loosens and you shuffle around carefully, trying to avoid shoving an elbow in his ribs and adding further insult to injury.

You can hardly make out his face, the small amount of moonlight shining through the haphazardly closed curtains barely illuminating the curve of his cheek. It does catch the glint of his honey brown eyes, tears shimmering along his lash line.

“Oh, my love.” Your heart breaks at the sight of the man in front of you, a shell of who you’ve come to know and love. The pressure behind your eyes builds, tears threatening to mirror Daniel’s. “C’mere.”

One hand wrapping around the back of his neck, you pull him to lay against you. He burrows in, head pressed tight into the junction between your neck and shoulder, a sombre juxtaposition to this morning.

“This is the end. Everything I’ve worked for, over. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” His arm wraps tight around your waist once more, his leg coming to rest between yours. “I’m officially a has-been.” A wet chuckle escapes him, the noise too loud in the surrounding silence.

You can’t stop yourself from tapping the back of his neck lightly. He knows you hate when he talks like that. “No one’s allowed to talk about the man I love like that.”

His head lifts from your neck to throw you a quick glance. “Even if it’s the man himself?”

Pulling him back to rest against your neck, you run your hands through his hair gently, twirling the longer strands around one of your fingers. “Especially if it’s the man himself. You’re not a has-been, never will be. You’re so talented in so many different ways, there will never be a time you can say you’re past your prime or whatever stupid shit is running around that gorgeous head of yours.” Your fingers tap against his scalp to drive the point home. “Even if you never step foot in one of those cars again, you’ve got your dirt biking, the wine company, Enchante, the 17 other high intensity sports you do that raise my blood pressure every time I watch. You’re smart enough to know how to adapt, and that is what you’ll do. I know it.”

“You seem very sure.” His voice comes out muffled from its spot against your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

“That’s because I am. I was by your side during the papaya setback, I saw how you came back stronger. That’s what this situation is too, a setback. You’ll find a way through, even if I have to stand by the solution with a flashlight to guide you that way.”

He chuckles, the edges of his voice no longer tainted with sorrow. “Can you still not say their name?”

You join his laughter, remembering the last time you’d spoken about McLaren. “Last time I mentioned that company, I got a cease and desist. Don’t think Zac was too happy with the way I was deservedly slagging them off.” Your nose wrinkles as you think back to the snottily worded email and attached letter that dropped into your inbox a few days after your last public comment about their shitty management. “So I promised to never let that name slip from my lips again.”

The room falls silent again, just for a moment. The two of you still tangled in an embrace, even as the first prickles of sweat bead against your hairline from the heat of your bodies in the warm Singapore evening.

Daniel sighs, shuffling minutely to run a hand up and down the length of your side. “I just… I remember when I was 20. Being so excited to get into an actual F1 car, even as a tester. I remember jumping out, seeing that I was the fastest and thinking ‘this is it. This is my chance.’ I wanted to be a Red Bull driver so bad, with every part of me. To win a race, maybe even win a world championship, leave a legacy behind. And now I’ve wasted over a decade of my life with only 8 race wins to show for it. Not even a championship. What kind of legacy does that leave me?”

The sorrow creeps back into his voice, and you have to clear your throat before responding, willing the tears back once more. “A legacy doesn’t have to mean winning a world championship. Or even a race. Think about Jacky Ickx, Stirling Moss, Juan Pablo Montoya. All legends in their own right, but none of them had a world championship. If this was your last race in Formula 1, you leave behind a legacy in your own right. People will know your name for years, even decades to come. King of the late brakers, the guy who always had a smile and a kind word to say about everyone he ever met; even if they didn’t deserve it, the aptly named Honey Badger. Just because you don’t leave behind a legacy in being number 1, doesn’t mean you won’t be up there with the greats.”

Daniel hums, taking in your words, dissecting them one by one. “I’m scared. Where do I go now? Do I even try to come back? Move to a different company entirely? Retire officially and retreat to the farm? I don’t know who I am without Formula 1.”

You take a moment to think about the situation for yourself. A world where Daniel Ricciardo is no longer a Formula 1 driver. It always seemed so impossible to you, the company so deeply ingrained into his being that the very idea of him would cease to exist without it in his life.

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” Your hand continues to card through his hair, a soothing gesture. Whether it was meant to soothe him or you, you weren’t too sure. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with advice, I’ve never had to walk in your shoes. But that doesn’t need to be something to think about right now. Enjoy some downtime, go home and spend time with your family, race dirt bikes around different parts of the world, go see Scotty and Chloe. The future is still so bright for you, Danny. And I’m just happy that I get to be beside you through it all.”

Slowly, he raises his head from its perch, bright eyes finding yours. Despite the situation, you swear he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment. Teeth bitten lips find yours in the dim light, clumsy and fierce, but perfect in its own right.

“I love you. So fucking much. From the first day we met and you shouted at me for splashing you with a puddle, I knew you were the one. Thank you for never leaving.”

You laugh aloud, remembering how you’d been late for university, umbrella thrashing in the England wind, when a bike had come up dangerously close beside you, running straight through a puddle and covering your jeans in muddy water.

After a long rant at the rider, you’d looked up into apologetic golden eyes and high cheekbones, and immediately the anger had dissipated. “And I love you. Maybe not from the puddle moment, but you won me over nearly immediately after. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, with you.”

This is the moment. The moment to open the gallery in your mind to the man in front of you. To recall each and every moment you’d captured in glossy oils and remind him of who he is, who he always has been.

And then Daniel lays his head back down to your chest, lips pressing an appreciative kiss to the shirt underneath, warmth blossoming through the fabric to your skin below. And the moment passes.

Pressing your head back into the pillow below, you listen to how Daniel’s breathing slows, settling down as he drifts off to sleep. The perfect moment will come back. There’s still time.

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liked by fan, fan and 982,167 others

formula1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced

see 238,816 others

fan what the fuck

fan not danny ric 💔💔

fan we just got him back😭😭😭

fan helmut marko watch your back.

user lol not surprised, we all knew he was washed ↳ fan 123.456.789.012 ↳ user did i just get doxxed?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

👤 danielricciardo liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 890,274 others

ynstagram the man of many names. danny ric, ricky bobby, honey badger and most importantly, the love of my life. i've loved you for 6 summers and i'll love you for 600 more.

in the words of our favourite musical, wherever you go i won't be far to follow. whether it's in the navy of the bulls, papaya of [REDACTED], the bee striped renault or the dazzling white of vcarb, you bring so much light and happiness everywhere you go, and i've been privileged to bask in the warmth of you.

and until the next adventure, i will always be here to remind you of the power and strength you inhabit, the souls you've breathed life into and the happiness you've brought to the sport you love (sometimes more than me) for over a decade.

always and forever, your y/n x

see 10,286 other comments

fan anyone else absolutely sobbing right now?? ↳ fan as if his post wasn't enough to make me bawl, ofc y/n drops this

fan to have a love like y/n and danny...

fan not y/n censoring mclaren, they hate that damn team so much ♥️ ynstagram

danielricciardo my darling, i love you, always and forever ❤️ ↳ ynstagram so excited for our future, whatever it holds ❤️

landonorris thanks y/n max is crying now 👍 ↳ ynstagram 🤣 which one? ↳ maxfewtrell both ↳ maxverstappen1 both

alexandrasaintmleux 🩷 we need another double date when you're back in monaco x ↳ ynstagram do we have to bring them? ↳ danielricciardo on my own dedication post... wow ↳ ynstagram 🤷 gotta show my girl love whenever i can

fan helmut better hide, y/n doesn't play when it comes to their man ↳ fan fr don't let the sappy post fool you, ik they have a hitlist in their notes

fan him leaving before COTA is so messed up, he loves that track 😭😭😭 ↳ ynstagram wish you guys could have seen the special helmet :( ↳ fan OH HELMUT MARKO WHEN I CATCH U!!!!!!! ↳ fan special helmet... pls we need to see i BEG

lewishamilton with you by his side, the future is bright for the honey badger 🤍 ↳ ynstagram thanks lew 🩷 ↳ danielricciardo thanks man :)

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a/n: this is not proof read, so ignore any mistakes. i can't wait to see what danny does in the future, whatever it is, i'll be supporting him all the way <3

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

411 notes · View notes

kaiserio · 14 days ago

Text

❄︎ bllk drabbles - cuddle time!

ft. shidou & nagi

Some lil drabbles about cuddles with these guys 🩵

cw: shidou (a cw in itself), shidou’s is sexual, minors please dni with this post!

not proofread, sryyy!

❄︎ Shidou - oh man, most of the time - even a sweet cuddle with this crazy fella turns into one hell of a ride. I mean that literally and figuratively.

He always has the best intentions, of course he does. We all know how Shidou worships those he loves.

In the morning, you always wake up to him already being wide awake. Has he even slept?

He has you pulled flush against his naked body, face buried into your neck leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses on your skin. And - of course - there it is, his dick is rock solid and he’s grinding against your ass.

“How ‘bout it, Angel? You want it, hm?” He growls into your ear and nipping at your lobe.

To Shidou, there’s no better way to start the day than a round (or three) of being buried inside his better half.

Shidou isn’t ALWAYS sexual. One thing his relationship with you has taught him, is to read the room - even just ever so slightly.

He knows your mannerisms like the back of his hand. The way your brow furrows ever so slightly when you’re upset, or how you chew your inner cheek when you’re anxious, or the way you shut down when you’re overstimulated. As soon as he notices any of these reactions from you, his first instinct is to protect.

If you’re in public, he will pull you into him and wrap his arms around you in a bone crushing hug.

“I just love you SOOOO much. If you don’t hug me I’ll die or some shit, Angel, I swear.” He’s loud, he’s annoying, he’s clingy, but he does the best job of distracting you from any negative emotions that you’re feeling. It’s a secret super power of his that he should be proud of!

If you’re in private? Good luck! He’s smothering you. If you’re sitting or laying down, he’s on top of you. If you’re standing up, he has his arms wrapped around your shoulders and he’s trying to wrap his legs around your waist. Does he even realise how much bigger he is? Most of the time, these events always end with you both in a heap on the floor, him cackling feverishly whilst you admonish him for being an idiot.

But hey, Shidou is Shidou, you signed up for this! 🫵

❄︎ Nagi - When I tell you this lazy boy was made for cuddles. Just look at how soft he is.

In your relationship, you’re the early riser. Despite being awake first, Nagi doesn’t want to let you go in the mornings. He’ll wrap an arm lazily over your waist and rest his head on your chest (bonus points if you stroke his hair for him, like he’s just a big floofy cat).

No matter what the occasion is, how busy you are, whatever mood you’re in, Nagi is ALWAYS down for some cuddle time. Out with friends? Every half hour he’ll suggest going home to cuddle on the sofa. Got guests over at your place? He’s texting you asking when do you think they’ll leave bc he wants to go lay in bed with you.

He is your own personal koala bear. Always soft and always willing to do what you want to do (as long as it involves some form of horizontal time).

In the winter; he’s your heater. He’s always so warm, you just don’t get it. On particularly cold nights he will wrap you both up in a blanket like a little double burrito and his warmth takes all your problems away (you always fall asleep like this, and he’ll never tell you but he loves it.)

All in all, this cutie pie is just a little cuddle bug. We 🩵 him over here.

#blue lock #shidou x reader #nagi x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #ryusei shidou x reader #bllk x reader

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koqabear · 6 months ago

Text

Divinity for the Damned

“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.”

“What sweet bliss it is to follow the teachings of God. To put in your faith and trust wholeheartedly, even if it means getting nothing in return.”

fallen angel! Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: horror, religious au, smut, angst

Word count 18.3K

warnings: i was delirious when i proof read this sorry in advance, very detailed descriptions/elements of the catholic church, mc is super duper religious, and innocent, lots of religious guilt, corrupt church members, assault in one scene, sacrilege and blasphemy i suppose, abuse of power, manipulation, guilt tripping, MCD, slight gore, violence, cannibalism…? aha…

smut warnings: dubcon/coercion, manhandling, mind breaking, corruption, virgin!mc, sub!mc, condescending soft dom!beomgyu, blindfolding/sensory deprivation? dacryphilia, fingering, oral (f. rec) edging, overstimulation, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie. lmk if i should add anything!

notes: hi guys! i have no idea how i got here.

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The day is wintry and cast with a heavy snow; it is advised for citizens to remain inside due to the extreme weathers, flurries falling outside your bedroom window that is tinted with a frost that creeps from the corners. But it is Sunday morning, and a simple snowfall will do nothing to deter your humble duties.

Today, you rush to get ready; the layers of clothes on your form make it difficult for you to pull on your snow boots, thick and warm as your fingers fumble to lace and tie the shoes— you’ve begun to feel overheated, but you’re sure all the layers you have on will not go to waste the moment you exit your home. Standing with a huff of exertion, you pull the coat on you just a little bit tighter; with a gloved hand and one final glance at the clock, you finally open your door and make your way out.

The little village is quiet today. The snow is up to your ankles— it makes the trek to the church a little more difficult than usual, and it’s not as though the gravelly paths were any more helpful. A wind carries flurries into the air, sticking to your clothes and onto your hair— it makes your skin sting and your arms come up to hug yourself instinctually, a hand coming up to rest on your chest, almost able to feel the cross necklace that’s tucked beneath all your clothes— your fingers press against the layers, able to feel the pressure of the delicate charm on your skin.

Shops are open, but they aren’t very busy; it seems as though the snow has turned the place into a ghost town, and you wonder with a frown if a simple change in weather was enough to make people set aside their duties— in the distance, the tall pinnacles of the church begin to fade into view, a sight of a cross at the very top of each one bringing a sense of relief into your system, like a warmth that floods into your veins.

There are twenty minutes left before the mass begins. But even so, you note that there are not many others making their way inside— your frown tugs at your lips a little deeper, and you’re too lost in thought to take note of cracked path before you; your foot is catching and you fall to the ground unceremoniously, yelping at the impact and the snow that drenches your tights and dress within seconds.

Your knees sting; with the multitudes of layers you have on, it’s a lot more difficult to stand— you’re wincing in pain from both the cold and the fall, your gloved hands now soaked as you try to steady them on the ground to help you up; you stumble slightly, the weight of your clothes now doubled as you fall back onto your knees— you huff with frustration, your head hung down in defeat.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

The voice is gentle and melodic; like a song in your ears, breathy, deep and smooth as you look up with surprise, not expecting anyone else to witness your fall— your face is heating up pitifully and your eyes are widening the moment they meet with those of a stranger, a man whose beauty is almost otherworldly; his hair is long and covered with flurries of snowflakes, decorated along his head and in his bangs like a crown— his face is blushing a soft red from the cold and his eyes are filled with concern; briefly, your eyes flicker up to his furrowed brows, taking notice of the scar that decorates his face, reddened and stopping just above his eye, a small deformity on his otherwise perfect face.

He looks like a prince.

“I–I’m… I’m fine,” you stutter out, still a bit dumbfounded by this captivating stranger, trying your best to remain composed as you take his outstretched hand for help; his hand is warm— no, it’s hot, even through your gloves— the contrast of temperature startling you for a moment; you try not to show it, much more distracted by the way his grip tightens instantly and he’s pulling you up with a surprising strength, the motion so sudden and unexpected that you’re stumbling out of balance; with a swift hand on the small of your back, the man steadies you.

“I’ve… never seen you around before,” you say softly, continuing your attempt to remain casual as you shrug his hands off you, taking a step back and trying to ignore the lingering heat his touch left— and you smile politely, hands folded in front of you as you tilt your head.

“Ah, I moved here recently,” the man explains, sending you a smile that’s just as charming as the rest of him; his eyes scan your sullied outfit, wet with snow and dirty at the knees, and he frowns. “You must be terribly cold. I suggest you go home and change.”

Your hands are patting your clothes off immediately in response; small clusters of snow that stuck to you fall off with every swat of your hands, attempting to rub at the dirt with your soaked gloves as you merely laugh him off and shake your head— you’re glancing back at the church in the distance, and are suddenly reminded of your responsibility.

“I’ll be alright, I assure you,” you say softly, doe eyes bright and optimistic, even if he seems doubtful of your words, “I have somewhere I need to be— it’s much warmer in there anyway.”

“Oh?” he says, raising a brow and scanning over your appearance once more, wondering what could possibly require such dedication from you, “may I ask where you’re headed?”

“Sunday mass,” you say eagerly, your voice sweet and lovely— and though his expression is suddenly unreadable, you remain enthusiastic as you continue, “If you’re not busy, I’d love for you to come— our church is beautiful, you’d get to meet so many amazing people.”

Mass is starting soon— you’re visibly antsy to go inside, yet you remain patient as you wait for the man’s answer— and though you’ve always been used to the polite turn downs from others you’ve offered to in the past, you can’t help but get your hopes up the longer you wait for a response.

He sighs; it’s soft and would have remained unnoticed under your gaze, except it comes out as a smoky puff of air due to the cold weather— his gaze skirts away from yours, lost in thought for a second, and you can feel yourself deflate as you begin to brace yourself for yet another rejection. But then he glances back at you, lips pursing and gaze taking you in slowly as he begins to speak. “I suppose I can,” he says gently, smiling at the way you’re immediately lighting up again, “I don’t have much else going on today anyway.”

A smile spreads through your face; you’re trying to control yourself and remain unfazed, but it’s a lot more difficult than you anticipated as you merely nod happily like a puppy— with his soft lead the way, you’re nodding again and taking him to your safe space.

“You never told me your name,” the man says suddenly, the two of you making your way up the steps to the church— you’re turning to him in surprise, mouth parting in slight shock as you realize that you really didn’t introduce yourselves— and you’re telling him your name softly, your tone a lot shyer than you expected, feeling small under the intense gaze of this handsome stranger. He laughs softly, eyes filled with amusement as he repeats your name back to you— it sounds so captivating and fragile on his lips, and you try to ignore the way the sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Beomgyu,” he says before you can direct the question back at him— and just like he did for you, you’re testing his name with your own voice, taking his nod of approval with a smile.

Conversation dwindles down the moment the two of you enter the building; it is low in light due to the cloudy day and the candle-lit lanterns that don’t fully light up the large establishment, and a warmth engulfs the two of you the moment the heavy wooden doors shut behind you; sending Beomgyu another encouraging smile, you take him softly by the arm and lead him further inside— you promptly stop at a small basin filled with holy water, dipping three of your fingers in and crossing yourself slowly, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to mouth an unintelligible words— and while Beomgyu is presumably doing the same, you take this time to say a brief prayer.

Beomgyu simply watches you with blank eyes. He makes no movements to follow after you, watching apathetically as your brows twitch and your eyes remain shut for a few seconds more, sweeping his gaze over the area as he will his lips to not upturn in distaste— his expression morphs to one of content the moment you’re opening your eyes to look at him again, the only thing to fuel his feet to move being the way your delicate hand squeezes his bicep gently, as though you were leading a scared animal into the unknown— he can’t help but find your mannerisms amusing, filled with an overwhelming innocence he hasn’t seen in a long time.

As a child, your family moved a lot— going from town to town, your father offered newer and better opportunities due to his trade— and, just like you, your family remained dedicated during it all, never failing to find a church to become a part of, a place to spend their Sundays and worship their God. Because of this, you’ve seen and been in more churches than you can keep track of; able to take in different interiors and atmospheres, different communities and sermons— yet, despite attending more churches than this whole town combined, you’ve found that the one you currently stand in cannot even bear to rival the others— it is wholeheartedly your favorite.

Nothing quite compares to the feeling of warmth and comfort this quaint building brings you, from the friendly smiles others in the community send you the moment they see you, to the smell of incense and flowers that fills your nose the further you walk down the nave, automatically going to your usual pew closest to the altar; the spot is basically reserved for you at this point, anyone who has come to this church at least once knowing that the third pew away from the altar is your favorite spot.

Beomgyu trails a little behind you. A little hesitant, you think— it must be difficult being thrust into such a new environment so suddenly, and you’re stopping in your tracks to turn around and reach for him with a kind smile.

He seems startled by your sudden gesture. His expression is completely lightening up within seconds, and if you hadn’t been dreadfully nervous to offer him your hand so you could walk together, you would have been able to pinpoint the clear scorn in his gaze— instead, all you’re able to see is the way his brows raise in surprise and his gaze turns warm, smiling fondly as he takes your hand; he tucks it snuggly in the crook of his arm before he’s nodding at you to continue walking.

You’re suddenly much more aware of the eyes pinned on you— you’re sure many must be surprised to see you with someone new, always used to you coming in early and quietly, head bowed down and mind already lost in prayer— and in this condition nonetheless, your body heating up slightly as you stare down at the ghastly state of your clothes.

“Relax,” Beomgyu suspires, leaning close to your ear so only the two of you can hear his words; his other hand reaches to place itself over your gloved hand, and again, you can feel the heat of his touch permeating through the wool. “You look lovely. A bit of snow or dirt could never take away from your beauty.”

His sudden compliment has your face heating up and reacting drastically; you can only squeak out a flustered oh, in response, unable to do much more than look in the opposite direction and stare at the scarlet rug that rolls down the nave— and you’re arriving at your usual spot, close enough to the altar that you’re bowing in respect— stiffly, Beomgyu is pulled down with you; his jaw clenches at the action.

The sermon begins as usual and proceeds as it always does— though, with Beomgyu at your side, you seem to have garnered quite a lot of attention to you; from others around you eagerly wanting to wish you and Beomgyu peace, shaking his hand firmly and with looking up at him with awe-stricken eyes, to the priest’s gaze that inevitably falls back onto the two of you again and again, not used to the scrutiny in his eyes as you flush with heat at the sudden realization of what others might be assuming the two of you are— as subtly as possible, you try to make space between the two of you, using the armrest of the pew as your excuse to scoot away as you try your best to remain inconspicuous, pretending to get comfortable and resting your arm against it.

Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pick up on your particular train of thought— he’s sending you a curious glance before he’s closing the space between the two of you again, feeling the way your body stiffens and your back straightens the moment you feel him against you, thigh against thigh; the small pressure of his body against yours enough to have you flustering pathetically, lips pressing together as you try to keep your expression neutral.

But if there’s one thing Beomgyu has learned about you from the short time he’s gotten to know you, it’s that you’re undeniably terrible at keeping a poker face; all your thoughts are written across your expression clear as day and seep into your body language— anyone who has you in their line of sight would be able to immediately pick up on your flustered and shy state.

You’re such an innocent little thing; like a lamb, Beomgyu thinks, gaze visibly boring into your side profile as you attempt to pretend as though you’re unaware of it, even if the nervous fiddling of your fingers gives you away. There’s an air of purity around you that is simply enticing, unable to pretend as though he isn’t endeared to you the moment you finally break and turn to look at him once it is time to receive the eucharist, bright, wide eyes silently asking if he’ll join you— he shakes his head no gently, and you’re nodding in understanding before you finally scurry away to get in line.

Your heart is pounding; you’ve never thought a man could have such an effect on you, your poor brain confused and running laps to try to reason why you can’t even keep eye contact with him for more than a second— you’ve just met him, just a little bit ago, yet even so you can’t help but feel a strange pull toward him, undeniably charmed by both his looks and soothing aura— your hand goes to place itself onto your heart, a weak attempt to steady it’s erratic beating. The charm of your necklace presses against your skin, and as it nears to be your turn, you pray for your heart to have more resilience.

“The Body of Christ.”

Beomgyu watches as you stand dutifully before the priest. He watches as the older man stares down at you with an intense gaze, one that seems to hold silent disappointment; he watches as the priest looks back at him, their eyes meeting and his gaze hardening before it falls back onto you— with a twisted realization, Beomgyu realizes where this emotion stems from.

The priest is careful with you, hand reaching out to slowly place the Eucharist on your awaiting tongue; he’s gentle, as though you were made of nothing but glass, gaze following you even after you’re long gone.

You’re walking back with your hands clasped together and your eyes downcast, undoubtedly lost in prayer again. But even so, you can’t help but sneak a glance at Beomgyu once more, relieved to see his eyes weren’t on you already this time— instead, he’s watching the priest acutely, observing and analyzing his every move— and you feel star-struck by his beauty yet again.

The day outside must have cleared more; at least, that must be the case if there is light shining through the stained glass windows, myriads of colors casting themselves on the floors and the people around you— Beomgyu is not an exception to this, entranced with the sharp reds, purples and blues that cast onto his delicate skin, making his appearance seem more otherworldly than it already was.

His brows furrow. Part of his face is lit up with a faint red from the window, hitting his right eye and the scar above it— suddenly, his eyes are flickering back to meet yours, and you’re jumping slightly in surprise; his eye is practically glowing.

Your gaze becomes downcast again. You try to ignore the feeling of him watching as you kneel down and begin your prayer once more, staring at the altar and at the captivating marble statues, eyes falling onto the candles that hypnotize you by its flickering flame, lost in thought as the taste of wine that lingers on your tongue becomes the only thing you’re still aware of.

Beomgyu makes no attempts to conceal his desperation to leave the moment mass is over. His goodbyes are brief and he manages to pull you along, simply because you’d feel bad if you didn’t accompany him out. You’re almost out the front doors, so close to leaving, only to be stopped the moment you’re stepping outside, not expecting the priest to slip out of the doors behind you, calling out your name and asking you to wait; obedient as always, you’re practically frozen on the steps of the church— Beomgyu doesn’t bother to hide the clear distaste on his face as he hears the priest ask for a word with you; in private.

Without hesitation, you’re scurrying up the steps and meekly asking Beomgyu if he was going to stay— you can’t help but be surprised at the immediate nod of his head in response.

“Lovely seeing you today. Like always,” the priest says, sending you a fond smile that you eagerly return; he’s taking a step close to you, voice lowering slightly as he continues. “This is the first time I’ve seen you attend with someone else.”

“Ah,” you say quietly, evidently flustered by the breach of this subject; you’re turning away from him to glance back at Beomgyu, who sends you a small smile the moment your eyes meet. “I met him this morning— he aided me when I fell, and agreed to join me when I invited him to today’s mass.”

The priest frowns. You’re taken aback by the clear disapproval in his eyes, blinking owlishly as you silently question what’s wrong— the priest is taking another step closer to you, his brows pinched together and his voice cautious as he speaks.

“My child,” he begins carefully, taking in your wide and curious eyes as he warns you, “It is admirable of you to spread God’s word so dutifully. I admire your devotion to both our Lord and this community.”

“However,” he says solemnly, “I advise you to be very careful. You have only just met him after all.”

The two of you glance back at Beomgyu, who leans against the stairway with a blank expression, staring out at the snowy scenery before him as he waits for the two of you to finish; he can feel your stares on him, but he doesn’t bother to look back, already knowing where this conversation must be headed.

“Oh Father,” you say softly, giving him a reassuring smile, “you shouldn’t worry, I know how to handle myself.”

And, Beomgyu has been nothing but kind to you, you think to yourself, though you know better than to rely solely on the limited hours you’ve spent together.

“Of course. Though you can’t blame me for being concerned,” he says, taking yet another step closer to you— the space between you is limited now, and you’re unable to stop the way you retreat subconsciously in response.

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to,” he reaches up to place a hand on your shoulder, heavy and making you stiffen at the sudden contact; it remains there, thumb rubbing soft circles on your coat, “such a dedicated servant of God. It is my duty to protect you, child.”

He is reluctant to let you go. You breathe out a soft laugh and smile, taking another step back and watching as his hand slides down your arm, his touch lingering and grabbing at your hand momentarily; he squeezes it in an attempt to give you reassurance, and you nod.

“I understand,” you say quietly, pulling your hands in close to your chest, clasping them together as you take another step back, “I must leave now, Father.”

His lips press, as though disappointed to see you leave to soon— but then he nods in understanding, wishing you a blessed day and encouraging you to stop by anytime; you nod, bidding him one last goodbye before you’re turning around and descending the stairs— you miss the way his eyes harden and his brows knit together the second they meet Beomgyu’s, lips pressed to a thin line as he watches the two of you for a moment more.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” you say meekly, feeling a smile grow on your face the moment Beomgyu simply shakes his head in reassurance, boldly taking your hand and placing it in the crook of his arm once again; a gesture that has your body warming up as much as his touch warms you, allowing him to pull you close to him as you walk away— he allows you to speak about whatever is on your mind, listening intently as he glances back at the church one final time.

At the top of the stairway, the priest remains, watching. Beomgyu is unfazed at the sight, and instead of returning the harsh glare the older man sends him, his lips curl into a smile— wide and wicked, showing off his perfect teeth and sharp canines that adorn his mouth, confusing the man before him— and his expression switches in the blink of an eye the moment you squeeze at his bicep subconsciously to get his attention as you speak, leaning in to ask what he thought of today’s mass.

“It was lovely,” Beomgyu says smoothly, eyes crinkling into a fond and kind smile. You’re returning the smile without hesitation, feeling as though it’s become second nature to your being now.

“I think I’ll be seeing you around more.”

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

The two of you part ways once you’ve reached the center of town. Beomgyu tells you he has somewhere he needs to be, and you explain that you still have a few errands to do; with the promise to see each other again soon, you’re reluctantly bidding him goodbye.

He asked if you’d be willing to show him around the town a bit more; if you’d like to show him your favorite places to eat and visit— you told him yes in a heartbeat.

With new promising plans with this handsome stranger, you felt lighter on your feet— a giddiness that undoubtedly was written all over your face, laughing shyly at the remarks others would give in regards to your good mood; and though the trek back to your little cottage on the outskirts of town was a long one, you didn’t seem to particularly mind it today.

The rest of your day is quiet; peaceful like always, not a soul stopping by to interrupt your day. You’ve fallen back into routine, and with your sudden encounter with Beomgyu earlier, you’ve begun to realize how mundane your everyday life is— you’re suddenly antsy, waiting anxiously for the day to bleed into the next so you’re able to see him again.

Night falls and you have yet to forget about him. Beomgyu’s soft gaze and kind smile, the way he hovered over you and humored your spontaneous offer to join you— his touch that warmed you through your layers of clothing and left your body hot and flustered.

This sudden change in your train of thought has you snapping back to reality; your eyes are blinking into focus and you’re now hyper-aware of the hot water that runs over your skin, the dishes in your hands that you had absentmindedly been washing— and you’re straightening up to stare out your window, feeling a breeze slip through the small opening and hit your warm face; you definitely need it, you think to yourself, scolding yourself for thinking of such scandalous things about a man you just met.

You think you’ll go to bed early; with the final dish placed on your drying rack, you’re off to your bathroom, washing up before you make your way into the bedroom, slipping into nothing more but a thin nightgown; the moonlight casts a glow on your figure as you change, already feeling sleep weigh your eyes as the soft silk of your gown brushes against your skin.

Your bed feels a lot more comfortable than usual; your body is more tired than you realized. The blankets weigh down on you securely, and any restless thought seems to dissolve in your mind the moment your head is resting against your soft pillows— for the first time in a long, long time, you’re able to achieve a peaceful, immediate slumber.

Poor thing; today’s events must have truly exhausted you. After all, being around a demon for such a long time takes a lot of energy.

Beomgyu watches the soft rise and fall of your chest with fond eyes and a small smile. He thinks that the moonlight casts a truly angelic glow on your face, unaware and peaceful to the dangers around you— not much of a difference from your awake self, the man muses.

The energy you emit is as pure as the light in your eyes; innocent, untainted by the horrors of the world. Unlike the rest of this town and their putrid thoughts, their intentions to rip you apart and force you to stoop as low as them, you’ve remained the same: devoted to your God, devoted to live an honest and peaceful life— your being is nothing short of angelic, and Beomgyu has found himself addicted to it.

He’s weakened— you remind him of the life he used to live, the person he once was before he gave in to the beauty of temptation, ensnared for eternity to the carnal sin that allowed him to reject the teachings of his god. He’s lived this life longer than he can remember, memories of pure beings and a light heart long gone; it’s instead been replaced by an insatiable hunger and instincts that led him to you.

Beomgyu wasn’t supposed to find himself here, he supposed. Damned to nothing but a void of flames that seared and marred his skin, to be given bodies of those who shared the same sin as him— indulging in his cravings, but never truly satiating them, just enough to keep his soul hooked and coming back for more, a constant cycle of addiction and hunger and desire.

But this is — you are — different. Just being near you is enough to get Beomgyu’s heart racing, his body buzzing with a slight nervous energy that begs to just touch you, to take you, to use you. His body is weak, drained from its descent from the heavens and its unexpected escape from his perpetual state of limbo, from his punishment. His bones ache and his skin begs to be with you, his soul guiding the rest of him to find you; just one night with you could keep him strong for eons.

Such a cruel hand life has given you. Because now that Beomgyu has found you, he’s made a silent vow to not let you escape from his hands; you’re the perfect prey, innocent and trusting and charmed by the closest thing to ever be graced by God's presence.

He closes his eyes, and hones in on your energy— to properly entangle you in clutches, Beomgyu must begin to plant the seeds in your mind; seeds of doubt and want, seeds that will allow you to see the world as is and bring you into his awaiting, protecting arms.

After a moment, he finally feels it; the soft beating of your heart, the aura that hums like an enticing melody. Deep breaths bring a slow rise and fall to his chest, allowing it to match the rhythm of your own. A harmony is created between the two, and only then does Beomgyu finally feel it— your mind is inviting him in. He suppresses the triumphant smile that makes his lips twitch.

Declining such an offer would be quite rude, wouldn’t it?

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

You wake with a start.

Your chest feels as though it might cave in and your gown sticks to your skin in an unbearable way, your body exuding so much heat that you’ve found yourself covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Your mind is racing, you feel as though your heart is ready to burst out of your chest— what happened, why do you feel like this?

It takes a minute before everything else floods back in. A wave of shame and horror washes over you, searingly hot against your skin as you find yourself throwing the covers of your bed off your body, reaching over at your nightstand instinctively and kneeling at your bedside; your hands shake slightly as you try to ground yourself with the feeling of the rosary beads against your palms.

Prayers leave your lips like a waterfall; attempting to forget the dream— the nightmare— that your mind conjured, surely nothing but a test of faith and temptation to make you stray from the path you painstakingly set up for yourself.

The beads of the rosary dig deeper into your palms. Your hands press tighter together, your face screwed into a frown of concentration, attempting to rid yourself of the way your mind seems to want to do nothing but wander. Wander to the foreign feeling of a hand gliding against your skin, a smooth path along your bare back and chest, lips that caressed your neck and whispered nothing but praises and promises of divinity and eternal life.

A shudder rips through your body like an earthquake. You must rid yourself of these thoughts.

Your will is strong, but the temptation is stronger; it sings memories and images from your nightmare, appearing at the most inconvenient moments and making your every movement falter— when you change, vibrant images and raw skin replacing the sight of your body in the mirror with one of pure lust and sin, when you prepare to go out, tucking the rosary safely underneath your layers of clothes, and as you spot Beomgyu in the distance, waving at you with a kind smile on his face; shame bubbles hotly beneath your skin, and you hope that the man who asks you to lead the way with bright eyes simply blames the flustered look of your face on the cold, the pure snow around you.

“You must be cold,” Beomgyu muses softly, turning to you and suddenly cupping your face; wide eyes meet his as you merely remain still, unsure of what to do as the feeling of his hot hands cupping your flushed skin only make it burn hotter, embarrassment eating you up as his brows twitch at the feeling; he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion as he inspects you slowly. “Or… perhaps not? Your face is burning.”

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to spit out, taking a step away from him and averting his gaze entirely, hands pressed firmly against your pounding heart, “I’m sorry if I seem to be acting strange, I’m not sure what has gotten into me.”

Beomgyu shakes his head softly, brows knitted together with worry— oh, you must seem to have lost it, you think to yourself, biting your lip and attempting to brush off your skittish behavior with a soft laugh, Beomgyu must find you strange now.

And whilst Beomgyu continues to feign concern for you, brushing off all your apologies and maintaining a curious facade, his body practically buzzes with excitement; poor, innocent thing, one simple dream was enough to bring you right to where he wanted you— one dream was enough to fluster and break down the solid fortitude you once set up for yourself, the man before you catching you so off guard that you never had a moment to question the sudden turn of events; he had you right where he wanted you, smiling to himself at the way you could barely maintain eye-contact before you were flustering and looking away.

You told yourself it would pass with time. But hours fly by with Beomgyu and nothing changes— if anything, everything simply got much, much worse— the man seemed to have found solace within you, getting comfortable and finding confidence in being subtly affectionate with you; holding your hand and pulling you along to show you something, brushing the corner of your mouth and teasing you for being such a messy eater, and holding a firm hand at the small of your back while you walked— you couldn’t pretend to be unaware of everyone’s stares even if you tried.

“Such a small town, isn’t it?” Beomgyu muses to you, taking in the scenery, the people that wander the streets; he finds his eyes meeting with every person they land on, holding back a sneer at the way their stares linger with fascination, landing on you with a myriad of emotions: envy, lust, disdain, he sees it all. “I feel like there’s someone watching us at all times.”

“Oh, I suppose,” you say sheepishly, as though you were the one to blame for his discomfort, “I apologize, I had no idea it would be this busy today— but it’s natural to be curious, I know they mean well.”

Beomgyu nods thoughtfully at your claim; surely, there’s only so much innocence you can harbor before it begins to become naivety— do you really believe such lies? But of course, you’re filled with nothing but surprises, the clear look in your eyes telling him that your words are more for you to believe than him.

When the sun is beginning to set and the street lamps are beginning to get lit up, Beomgyu sees your mood flip like a switch; you’re getting antsy, you must want to leave soon. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what might be going on in your mind at the moment.

“You must be tired,” Beomgyu says, slowing to a stop before turning to face you; you led him to one of your favorite parks, taking him into the maze of a garden and along your favorite trail, the light and excitement in your face enough to make the scenery around him seem dull.

You look like a deer caught in headlights at his words; was it so obvious? You stammer and try to sugarcoat how you feel unsure of how to tell him that you want to leave now, not because you’re tired of his presence, but because you feel as though you’re not in your right mind at the moment.

Oh, how could you possibly tell him that the reason you must leave soon is because you feel a nauseating urge to repent? That, as soon as you say your final goodbyes, smiling shyly and turning around to walk away from him with a haste, you’re going to make your way straight to the church? The night is cold but your body is far from it, face burning with shame as you walk into your sanctuary with a haste, unsure of how to deal with the fact that you’re thinking very impure thoughts over a man you’ve just met; the very reminder is enough to make your stomach lurch once more.

The warmth of the building doesn’t feel as welcoming anymore; it only makes your body hotter, breaking out with a light sweat as you slowly approach the basin of holy water, dipping your fingers in and slowly crossing yourself— you take a deep breath, ignoring the flames of shame that eat at you as you walk inside.

The confessional is just by the entrance, at the very end of the left wall and tucked in safely from any private eyes. The velvet curtain beckons you, and as you rush over in a haste, you can’t bring yourself to catch eyes with the priest that stands by the altar, having caught sight of you immediately— there was no one else that would come here so late at night but you.

You sit at the very edge of your seat, hunched over and staring at your lap as you wait. You can feel the heat of the single lightbulb above you on your back, searing into your nape as you pick at your nails anxiously. It feels like time has frozen within this small booth you’ve cooped yourself in, the heat of it all only making you more restless as you wait, head ducked down in shame, much too afraid to look into the screen that separates you from the only other person that will ever know about the dark thoughts that plague you.

After what feels like an eternity, you hear footsteps approaching; you peek up instinctively, just in time to watch the velvet curtain on the other side get pushed open— your head goes back down hurriedly.

It’s not too often you come into the confessional, but you still find yourself doing the routine like you were born to do so. Your hand crosses yourself dutifully, licking nervously at your dry lips that part to speak— your voice feels timid and broken, the words you speak heavy on your tongue.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

It’s been about four weeks since you last confessed, you tell him, wringing your hands together as you attempt to find the words to say, feeling as though a heavy lump in your throat prevents you from expressing the truth; it’s too much, you find yourself thinking, the burden and shame of it all bringing a heat to your cheeks, reluctant to voice your sins aloud. Moments pass and you have said nothing, but the priest on the other side remains patient— the silence and the heat of his stare through the screen only makes you more aware of the guilt that sits in your stomach.

“Father, I don’t know what to do,” you sob softly, the dam finally breaking in one, swift motion; words spill from your lips with abandon, unable to keep track of what to say as you scoot close to the screen, barely on your seat as you lean your forehead against the cool wood.

“I have restrained myself all my life, I’ve avoided the temptation that is thrown my way, the dangers presented to me— I’ve remained strong— yet…” you swallow thickly, a shuddered sigh leaving your lips as your hands brace themselves against the screen; your palms press against the sturdy structure, a false sense of security as you hesitate to say the words you’re about to admit, “yet— these past few days I’ve been plagued with nothing but thoughts of lust. Of blasphemy.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. Memories seem to bubble up from the confession, detailed and vivid, playing against your eyes that screw shut as though in pain.

It’s all wrong. So, so so wrong, the warm feelings that stir within unfamiliar as you remember all the thoughts that fill your mind throughout the day.

“It’s unlike me— I’ve never found myself to think anything so crude, so immoral,” you say, hanging your head with shame, “Yet I find that I cannot stop. Father, I’ve prayed and I’ve remained abstinent, but the thought that I fear the most is the one… that makes me doubt whether I’m on the right path.”

On the other side of the screen, you’re faintly able to make out his figure shifting. Your hesitation is evident as you finally admit something you hadn’t been able to accept yourself.

“Father, I’m afraid that I’ll give in.”

More silence follows. You’re sure that the priest must be in deep thought on the other side, but the silence only seems to make you more anxious; how low you’ve come, a voice within you chides, wanting to throw away your purity for a man you’ve just only just met. How vile.

The voice is cold and blunt and unlike your own— the sudden thought startles you, your spine straightening as you look around you, a shiver going throughout your body. Inevitably, you look through the screen once more. On the other side, you’re able to see the faint image of the priest, his head hanging and lost in thought.

You feel as though you’re in a daze for the rest of your time there; you can only nod softly with every piece of advice he offers you, telling you to remain strong and trust that your faith in God will guide you to the right path— he tells you to pray, to devote yourself to the church in any way you can, your penance weighing your heart as you agree to it all.

“My child, be aware that this is another test of your faith. You mustn’t give in,” he finally says, stopping you in your motion to leave, “You are a pure flower, bound to attract others who do not have your best interest in mind.”

Hesitantly, you nod, unsure if you’re deserving of this praise he sings to you.

“If you ever find yourself in doubt, know that you can always come to me.”

There’s an odd feeling that blooms within you at his words; you know you should feel comforted, honored to have someone to support you in your time of need, but instead you can only muster a wry smile, whispering a soft of course before you’re exiting the booth in a haste.

Glancing behind you, you’re reassured to see that the priest has yet to come out; you don’t think you could face him any time soon, knowing that despite the anonymity of the booth, your identity is quite obvious.

No one else resides in the church as you make your way down the nave and down to your usual spot. Your footsteps feel heavy on the rug as you stand before the altar, head tilted up to be able to take it all in properly; the marble statues that look as though they might come to life, the angels that bow down and the intricate details that go to frame the cross in the middle— you stare up at the altar for what feels like hours, the guilt in your heart weighing you as you take a deep bow and go to sit.

Your mind is calm, but your heart is restless; you pray for forgiveness and plead to not be led astray, yet something within you itches to do just that— a tug at your heart, wondering what it would be like to indulge yourself for once— you’ve seen the other members of your church, the way they comply and worship yet change in the blink of an eye once they’re out of this sanctuary— so, would it really be that bad? You’ve seen their actions, know their hearts; they treat you so kindly, worship your lord so devoutly— so, is it really unjust for you to do the same?

Your nails dig deep into your skin, a way to snap yourself out of that train of thought, scolding yourself for thinking this way of others around you— for attempting to reason with the whispers of temptation that attempt to lure you.

How long you spend lost in thought is unknown to you— minutes, maybe hours, your knees sore and your clasped hands clammy as you rest your forehead against them, eyes screwed shut and lost in prayer; it was a meditation of sorts, finally able to cast out straying tangents and focus on one thing. Your breathing is slow, tired, your body slowly giving in to the exhaustion, muscles weighing you down as you continue to pray— it isn’t until you’ve found yourself about to doze off that you realize you must leave.

When you stand, you’re shaken awake instantly. You could’ve sworn you’d be the only one left in the building by now, yet the priest still lingers by the altar, tending to the candles and shifting about— the smile you send when he glances behind curiously and meets your eyes must seem as ingenuine as it feels, because you see his expression fall instantly.

It’s important to rest. You must be seeing things, you think, tightening your coat around you before you’re stepping out of your pew and turning to leave— your steps are unconsciously haste, your arms that wrap around yourself unnaturally tight, yet you still flinch the moment your name is being called— softly, but still echoing throughout the building.

You find yourself feeling reluctant as you turn. Your words are timid as you address him.

“Yes Father?”

Upon your surprise, he is not too far from you— as though he had been mere steps behind, wanting to close the gap between you two as he continues to move forward; he sends you a soft smile, head tilting in curiosity and brows furrowing in worry as he speaks.

“My dear, are you leaving? At this hour?” he asks, watching you nod meekly, “But it is so dangerous; it is far too cold and dark for someone like you to be out alone.”

Sheepishly, you smile, hands wringing themselves without you realizing.

“It’s quite alright, Father. I’m stronger than you think.”

The soft laugh he lets out is meant to be lighthearted, though you can’t help but think it’s one of disbelief instead.

“I’m sure, but you must understand my concern; to let you leave alone like this would be wrong of me.” His smile is fond as he steps closer to you, gesturing behind him as he proposes, “Why don’t you stay here for the night? It’d be much safer.”

“Oh, thank you Father, but I think it’d be better for me to go to my home instead,” you say softly, pressing your hands firmly against your beating heart, “I have a busy day tomorrow, and I don’t think it’d be wise to rest on the pews.”

He laughs again, shaking his head in amusement; your brows knit together in slight confusion, laughing along hesitantly nonetheless.

“Of course my dear,” he starts, your smile widening in hopes that he’s giving up this small fight, “but that’s not what I was referring to.”

“I meant that you should rest here tonight,” he repeats again, voice softening as he continues, “with me.”

Your eyes widen in shock— it’s painted all over your face as well, unsure of what to make of his sudden offer as you resort to letting out an incredulous laugh instead.

“Oh Father, I couldn’t possibly—” you gulp, softening your tone at the sight of his confused face, “It– it wouldn’t be right. I mustn’t disturb you.”

“But you wouldn’t be disturbing at all,” he insists, taking a step toward you, talking animatedly with his hands as he does, “I’m inviting you, afterall, I’d love the company— it does get lonely sometimes, I must admit.”

You attempt to maintain a look of understanding, nodding along to his every word— but you remain firm in your stance regardless as you respond.

“I understand, and I truly do appreciate the offer,” you try again, beginning to walk back despite the slow souring of his face, “but, even so, I really must leave—”

“Why?” he suddenly interrupts, his voice sharp and his expression cold, “why are you so insistent on leaving?”

“I’m tired, is all—”

“Lies.” he shuts you down again. “All of it. For if you were true to your word, you’d have no issue accepting my offer to accommodate you.”

Shaking your head, you shrink within yourself, shoulders caving in as he begins following your steps— you attempt to give him reason, to be polite and kind, yet he hears none of it.

“You come to plead for forgiveness yet are so quick to run back to your old ways,” he says, his every step like a resounding boom in your mind— you deny him adamantly again, but all you get in response is a cold look.

It seems as though you’ve nowhere to go— the doors had been shut due to the cold and your back presses against it, but before you can reach for the handle and open your only exit, you find yourself trapped— the priest’s hand is heavy as it slams on the handle, the loud sound causing you to jump and yelp in surprise.

“Can’t you see? I only want what’s best for you,” you feel as though you might merge with the wood of the door as you press yourself to it, eyes glued to the floor in an attempt to escape the cruel wrath of the priest that towers above you, spitting words of discipline, “It’s dangerous for you out there. You haven’t the slightest idea what would happen to you if you were found like this— alone, helpless, defenseless.”

“I have gone out of my way to provide you shelter, yet you refuse; I know what it is you’re truly adamant to get back to,” he grits, as though it pained him to say— his eyes narrow, watching as you merely tremble and refuse to look at him, finding himself tired of you not meeting his eye— the cry you let out is insignificant as he takes hold of your shoulders, shaking you and crouching down to meet your face.

“And I will not have you whoring yourself out to another man! ” Your eyes are screwed shut now, tears threatening to flow down as you reach for the hands on your shoulders, attempting to pry them off— he pays no mind to your attempts, continuing to scream in your face until you find that you can withstand no more.

“Please! Let me go!”

Your chest heaves. Your wide eyes are brimming with tears and your legs are shaking terribly, just like your hands that have just shoved the priest off you; he seems just as shocked as you are, mouth parted in surprise before he finally goes to regain his composure.

“I-I’m so sorry Father, I–” your voice breaks and you feel the hot streams of tears on your cheeks, a trembling hand reaching behind you in search of the handle— when you find it, you immediately pull it open.

“I–I— I must go, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t mean it, I’m so—”

“You do not deserve to be deflowered and tainted by the evils of this world,” the priest says, his voice hoarse and stopping you effortlessly in your tracks; he doesn’t bother looking at you anymore, staring at your feet with a pinched expression of frustration instead. “But if that is what your blasphemous heart truly desires, then so be it.”

When his head raises and his eyes meet yours, you’re stunned— his eyes shine, a forlorn look settled within them.

“You were so perfect, my child,” he says softly, frowning at the fear in your eyes, the heavy heaving of your chest, “you were divine.”

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

Brows furrowing together, you deny him one last time— this time, he simply watches as you slip out the door, fleeing with sharp steps and sobbing quietly into your hands, cheeks stinging from the cold.

The path before you is dim— the trek to your home is long. Without realizing, you think of the priest’s warnings, tears an endless stream as you part your lips in a soft whisper.

“Oh Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection…”

Through the long journey back to your way home, you sob and you pray. By the top steps of the church, hidden by the columns and tucked safely into the darkness, Beomgyu watches. He watches until your figure is nothing but a small speck against the vast landscape of the town, your trembling body and the echoes of your soft sobs ingrained into his mind.

Slowly, he turns back to look at the doors, into the small sliver of warm light provided by your failure to close the door properly.

His eyes catch movement; a grin grows on his face.

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

Tonight, it seems as though your heart and your mind have finally conceded. Tonight, you dream deeply.

In your dreams, it is all a haze; you’ve found yourself within the holy sanctuary once more, slowly making your way down the nave, past the crowded pews of hooded figures with their heads ducked down, hands folded dutifully in front of you and your eyes pinned straight ahead. The altar beckons you, the thickened, incensed air bringing a calm through your system as you walk. You walk and you walk, eyes pinned on the cross that looms over you.

The path seems to warp— the nave seems never-ending, the carpet slowly becoming worn and darkened with every step you take— your heart beats a little faster now, nails digging into your skin with a subconscious tension; yet you continue to walk, whether you want to or not.

Everything feels so heavy. You feel lethargic and dizzy, feeling as though submerged underwater, limbs moving oh so slowly; the room around you has begun to darken, unable to halt your trek down to the altar no matter how much you try— everything has begun to fade to black, the pews of people turning to dust, the carpet beneath you disappearing beneath your feet— the only thing that remains steady is the altar in front of you and the steps you take.

You can’t breathe— have you been breathing at all? It’s a fleeting thought that crosses your mind, the burning of your lungs and the pressure on your chest sudden and alarming— the smell of incense no longer enters your system, but you can still feel the air thicken around you; somehow, your eyes remain wide open through it all, stuck onto the mesmerizing, pure altar that remains on its fixed point in the distance.

It feels as though hours have passed, and you’ve yet to make any progress. Your body remains still as the darkness around you. Just when you’ve begun to wonder if there will ever be any end in sight, something changes.

It’s subtle, at first— you think it might just be a trick of the mind. The very edges of the altar have started to fade into the darkness, the sharp edges of the pure, white marble statues turning fuzzy— the wings of the angels, the top of the cross, the podium that holds it all up— it’s fading into the abyss, becoming one with the eternal nothingness around you— and as much as you feel yourself panic, wanting to speed your pace, break into a run in a weak attempt to stop it— you can’t. The sound of your steps is like a metronome in your ears, falling against the void and keeping you still. All you can do is watch.

Your eyes remain wide open throughout it all. Your dress sways with every step you take, your body not realizing that soon enough, you’ll be walking towards nothing. The faces of the angel’s are now fading into obscurity, the darkness prickling at Jesus’ nailed hands and thorned crown; your heart hammers against your chest, forced to watch as it pools around Mary’s feet.

The few remnants of the holy altar are slowly being swallowed by this strange darkness; sorrow fills your weak being, wondering why it is that your body continues to walk forward— there is nothing left to go to, the last of Mary’s bowed body getting lost into the abyss— and as your eyes scan her smooth, marble complexion, you catch on a single crimson tear, welling up at the inner corner of her eye, able to watch it grow as though you were standing inches before it— it grows and grows, until it can no longer stay still. The path it runs down the smoothness of her cheeks is striking, a sharp trail left behind as it drips off into nothing.

The last of her fades away.

There is nothing but darkness ahead of you; even so, you continue forward. Your mind has emptied, body becoming lax as the steps you take become effortless, light, like walking on air. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep, the haze in your brain returning twice as strong.

You can feel yourself walking, but you cannot see anything; not even yourself. A voice within wonders if you might be left to walk forever, towards an end goal that will never show itself to you.

Come to me.

Despite your shock, you do not halt. The voice is soft and sweet, like dripping honey— it’s only three words, but even so, you find yourself entranced, following the command even if you’re unsure whether you’re going the right direction.

Closer, come.

The voice beckons you so effortlessly, like a leash that wraps around your figure, pulling you forward, following your instinct to continue to walk, to explore what it is that calls to you so sweetly.

Unlike the altar that has now been lost on your once worried mind, something has begun to fade into view. It is soft and hazy, with a slight glow that hurts your eyes— unable to make out what it is you’re now making your way towards, eyes dilating and adjusting slowly.

A bright, ruffled shirt, a corset that’s tied tightly, long flowing sleeves covering the hands that rest leisurely at their sides; your gaze is quick to sweep up their appearance, a quick observation before you move onto what tugs at your curiosity the most— only to find that their face remains obscured by the darkness, a slight blur of what could be registering in your mind— you think you see soft, plump lips that curl into a reassuring smile, but it might be wishful thinking, if anything at all.

Slowly, they raise a hand— calling you closer, the path beneath you finally beginning to shrink with each step you take— their fingertips outstretched toward you, as though expecting you to do the same. And even when you fail to mirror their actions, they refuse to falter, accepting you as you are.

It is only when you stand before them that your body finally stops. Your face expressionless as you observe the person in front of you carefully, oddly hesitant to accept their offer. You stand for a moment, left in a standstill as the figure lets out a soft, echoing laugh.

Do not be afraid, they tell you, their words wrapping around you warmly, take my hand.

You blink. Your body suddenly feels like your own, the grounding heaviness of your limbs making you realize that it is now you who controls what you do next; glancing down at yourself curiously, you look back up at the figure, where they remain waiting expectantly.

You take a step closer. Their smile widens slightly.

Good, they say, soft and deep like a purr, closer.

Slowly, you bring a hand up, finding a slight hesitation to make contact with this outstretched hand— and, as though hearing your doubts, the figure chuckles, teasing and lighthearted, as though already aware of what you will choose in the end.

When your skin touches theirs, you feel nothing. It is like air under your palm.

Your grip tightens, unsure if you’ve taken their hand at all; before you can so much as take a breath, their hold shifts, hand sliding forward and deft fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist, fingertips digging into the skin— you’re pulled in without warning, stumbling forward and crashing into their strong chest.

Looking up, you find that you cannot bring yourself to feel afraid— their smile is radiant as they look down at you, the faint outline of their head much too fuzzy for you to understand— the air cracks as two pure wings stretch out, curling around the two of you and moving to cage you in shortly after— feathers fly around the air from the aggressive movement, fluttering around before they rot black, lighting at the quill and turning to ashes, the crackling sounds filling your ears as you look around you in confusion, only to get the sight obscured by the darkening wings that trap you.

Eyes on me, the voice says, echoing in your mind, following their command immediately. The soft smile that remained on their lips can no longer be contained, growing into a grin that shows off brilliant canines that shine down at you. I will give you everything you seek.

Feeling the twinge of hope in your heart, the figure pulls you closer still, allowing your body to press against theirs.

Seek me, they whisper lowly, a hand beginning to snake around your waist, dancing fingertips pressing into the small of your back— leaning down, they whisper softly into your ear.

Find me in our sanctuary, you can hear their grin through their words, and I will give you all you yearn for.

Their lips ghost over the shell of your ear.

Quickly.

Before you can react, they dissolve to nothing.

You’re left alone in the abyss once more.

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

When you startle awake, you find that it is still nighttime; sitting straight up in your bed, you look out the window— snow falls peacefully, the quietness of the scenery doing nothing to calm your beating heart.

The dream.

Words and messages echo throughout your mind, unsure of what to make of it all. Your chest heaves slightly with confusion, eyes adjusting to the darkness as you glance over at your bedside table— the statue of the cross greets you like always, the soft voice from your dream resurfacing in your tired brain.

Your body is moving on its own accord; your coat, your shoes, all of it is being thrown on before your dazed mind can even process it, still weighed with sleep as you stumble around in the darkness. Only one thought seems to keep you moving, like a restless pull that leads you out your front door.

Swinging it open, you’re met with the freezing winter breeze; the trees sway and creak, snowflakes falling in your direction and landing against the apples of your cheeks— shaking you awake slightly, a quiet voice within you wondering what it is you’re doing, telling you that you should go back inside and rest— but even through this small window of reason you receive, the warmth that leaks from behind your home attempting to wrap around you and pull you back in, the need to seek closure haunts you; your boots crunch beneath the freshly fallen snow, sealing your fate as you haphazardly close the door behind you.

It all feels like a dream still— and you wonder if it is, blinking away the snow that gets in your eyes, your walk through the emptied path that leads back to the center of town turning haste; you feel as though it is something else that is pushing you forward, allowing you to head through this dark and barren path without so much as a light to guide the way, the sound of the wind whistling through your ears and the snow crunching beneath your feet following along.

There must be a reason, your weary mind thinks, a passing thought through the blankness of your mind, passing through the desolate, closed shops, not a single street lantern lit to give you a sense of security, there is something calling you back.

In your right state of mind, you never would have found yourself doing this; after what happened mere hours ago, you wouldn’t have been able to walk in this general direction without feeling guilt and fear weighing you down— in your fully conscious state of mind, you would have stopped to contemplate your actions the moment you began to lace up your shoes— but in this moment, as you slow to a stop and turn to face the stone steps that lead to the first faint, flickering light you’ve seen tonight, you’re none of that— instead, you allow yourself to give in to this strange, delirious state of being you’ve found yourself in.

The tall steps of the church have blurred together. Your head remains bowed, eyes glued to your feet as you ascend, hands folded neatly in front of you as snow falls around you, on your clothes and in your hair.

When you arrive at the top, a hand reaching out for the entrance, you hesitate— your eyes widen, and as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over you, you take in the door that has been left ajar, the lights that are no longer on inside; your hand remains outstretched for a moment, and for the first time tonight, a single question runs through your head.

Why are you here?

Standing straight, you turn to look over your shoulder, out at the town behind you— all is still, eerily so, like you’re the only person there. Even in the distance, in the neighborhoods, you do not find a single light on. A chill runs through your body, suddenly aware that you’re standing outside in the snowfall with nothing but your nightgown and a winter coat on; with blazing cheeks, you rush to slip inside the sanctuary in hopes of getting your confused mind back in order.

The door falls shut behind you, the soft click rendering you in complete darkness; not even the magnificent, stained glass windows are able to provide you with a proper source of light, nervously looking around and taking in the church in this desolate, foreign state.

You’ve heard that old habits die hard— without realizing, you’ve made your way to the basin of holy water, shaking fingers reaching in to be dipped so you can cross yourself— only, you continue to reach in, going in further until your fingertips are touching the cool porcelain of the bowl; head snapping over the sensation, you frown in confusion at the sight of the empty basin— walking over to the one placed adjacently, you squint, reaching in unsurely, only to be met with the same cold feeling.

Strange.

Retracting your hand, you cradle it close to your chest, a frown tugging at your features as you try to brush off the confusion; looking forward once more, you’re left face to face with the marble altar that sits at the end of the nave, beckoning you to come closer.

It must’ve been a sign of God. That is the only explanation that would justify the strange circumstances of it all, making you way down the familiar carpet, the soft sound of your steps enough to rival the beating of your heart in your ears.

Stepping off the carpet, you go to bow in respect— only to hear a strange sound beneath your feet, like a splashing of sorts— glancing down in confusion, your eyes narrow, attempting to decipher what it is you’ve stepped in; a pool of water maybe, looking above you to see if there might be a leak in the ceiling— a few seconds go by, and when you neither feel nor see anything fall, your frown deepens.

“You came.”

Your heart spikes and your gaze drops to the source of the sound, unable to do anything but gasp from the startle— through the darkness, standing behind the altar, a figure speaks to you. The sight is reminiscent and makes your legs shake, a mixture of fear and awe filling your body as you find yourself unable to speak.

“I wondered what it would take for you to finally give in,” the voice, soft and melodic, murmurs; even through the darkness, you can feel their gaze pinned onto you intently. “Such a shame it had to go this far.”

Before you can react, a thunder-like sound fills the empty walls of the church, cracking loudly and causing you to flinch, ducking down and covering yourself instinctively— through your eyelids that remain screwed shut, you see light filling the room around you, the flickering warmth of the candles glowing against your lids, beckoning you to look— after a moment, you give in.

Your hands tremble as you put them down, straightening up and taking a look around you: the candles have been lit up, from the chandeliers and lanterns above you to the small, worn candles at the sides of the altar— your eyes squint, trying to adjust, rubbing the sleep out of them and blinking slowly as you finally take in the figure that awaited your arrival.

A familiar face smiles down at you sweetly.

A loose, white shirt, a corset that ties tightly around the waist, flowing sleeves that pool around his delicate hands— your shaking pupils take it all in, lips parting to speak, only to close once more when you’ve found that nothing can come out. His hair is mused and curls at the nape of his neck, long strands falling into his kind eyes that watch you carefully.

Behind him, two vast white wings stretch out, the grand sight making your eyes widen in wonder.

Before you can control yourself, your knees buckle in shock.

Beomgyu laughs at you, the sound tender to your ears; placing his hands on the table of the altar, he leans forward, looking down at you and tilting his head in curiosity.

“What’s wrong, my lamb?”

All you can do is stare, left speechless and shaken as you remain silent— he laughs again, eyes crinkling in amusement, bright smile on display and adding to his otherworldly appearance.

“Do not be afraid,” he says, cradling his face with his palm, cooing softly at the way you still remain paralyzed with shock, “I only want what’s best for you, little lamb.”

You blink; shifting, you’ve found your clothes have become soaked at the knees, realizing belatedly that you must’ve fallen into the puddle from earlier— glancing down, you wince, only to freeze at what you see.

A striking crimson soils your clothes. It drags into a path that leads off into one of the rooms on the side, your heart sinking and a cold fear striking down your spine.

The scream that rips though you echoes and burns your throat.

Beomgyu frowns. He’s not surprised, nor is he confused; he simply continues to watch you, beginning to round the altar table the moment you begin to crawl back from where you kneel, your legs refusing to cooperate as hot tears brim your eyes.

“Oh no,” he tsks softly, wings folding inward so he can make his way down the nave, brows knitting together as he watches you, the intensity of his gaze keeping your eyes pinned on his as you cry in confusion, attempting to stand shakily, only to fail— he pouts, stepping in the puddle that startled you, watching as you flinch at the sight of the brilliant droplets that splash out and cling to his once pristine, white boots. “Why do you run?”

“That— the-the blood—” you sob, hysterical, unable to get your words out through stuttered breaths, “What—”

“Shh,” he hushes you hastily, closing the distance between the two of you and stepping on your delicate nightgown, forcing you to be still as he towers over you— he leans down, hair framing his face beautifully, mischievous eyes twinkling as his face hovers inches before yours— his wings cage around the two of you, a sight to see as you merely stare up at him in utter consternation, “don’t bother with him.”

A chill runs down your spine, electrifying and forcing you to sit ram-rod straight— through the small cracks beneath his wings, you take in the streaks that have dried against the tiles, the implication of his words causing a feeling of dread to pool within you, feeling as though you might vomit with the next words you speak.

“Who…” you breathe out, shaky and helpless as you stare up at Beomgyu; he had already been watching you, apathetic expression bringing sheer horror to your system, finally noticing small details you had been so eager to gloss over in your earlier haste— the tainted sleeves of his shirt, the messiness of his clothes, his empty, dark eyes— and your face screws into an expression of sorrow, your nails digging into the soiled carpet beneath you.

“What have you done?”

Beomgyu doesn’t react to your question. He remains still, eerily so, before he finally stands up straight, wings spreading proudly behind him; he stares down at you, hands held behind his back and voice flat as he speaks.

“Nothing I haven’t done before.”

Beomgyu thinks this might be his favorite part; he allows himself to watch as you force yourself to your feet, eyes blown out with horror as you stumble back, afraid he might come after you— when you see he has yet to move, you turn and run, the sight familiar as a grin grows on his face; he allows you to slam against the doors, watches confusion flood your actions as you attempt to force the door open, only beginning to take steps to go after you once you’ve begun to pound on the door hastily, hoarse voice screaming and crying for help, hoping for someone to hear your pleas and rescue you.

“You know, there’s no one that would be out on a night like this,” Beomgyu calls out, his voice booming effortlessly over your painful attempts to seek rescue; his steps are slow and cruel, and you look over your shoulder, tensing at the sight of him nearing you, refusing to give up as you try slamming your body against the wood, only to no avail. “No one stupid enough, that is.”

Your body is well beyond bruised by now, pausing your attempts to break down the door in a desperate hope to check the handle once more; you’re rattling it roughly, crying out when you’re met with resistance. Defeated, your forehead slams against the wood, allowing your sobs to wrack through your body, fingers tightening around the handle hopelessly.

“Now now, don’t be like this,” Beomgyu’s soft voice coos into your ear, much closer than you anticipated him to be; you flinch, feeling his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his chest pressing firmly against your back— his arms wrap around your waist slowly, bringing you in and forcing you to remain pressed against him, “is this not what you have been seeking all along?”

Effortlessly, he pulls you away from the door. Maybe it’s the will to fight that ebbs out of your being, or maybe it’s his superhuman strength, pulling you off and forcing the two of you to walk backwards, your hands falling limply at your sides and your head falling back to stare at the ceiling, glossy eyes barely processing the words he speaks next.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, the searing touch of his hands searing through your clothes, burning your skin, “your heart has been searching for me, you know.”

Allowing him to walk you backwards, you whimper at his words— a sharp reminder of what it was that kept bringing you back here, unwavering guilt sinking your stomach at the faint fire that flickers within.

“No. Please,” you breath out, hushed and hurried as you shake your head, “Please, I beg of you, have mercy—”

Beneath you, you hear the familiar splash of liquid; you yelp in panic, jumping against Beomgyu’s body and trying to look down on instinct— you’re stopped before you can successfully do so, his heated palm pressing against your eyes, forcing you to be left in the dark.

“Don’t.” he says softly, his arm tightening around you, feeling tears pool beneath his skin, “you’re alright, I’m here with you.”

“Such a poor thing. Life has treated you quite unfairly, hasn’t it?” Beomgyu speaks aloud, feeling you hesitate and stumble as he leads you up towards the elevated altar, listening to your jagged breaths with a slightly pitied look. “Perfect and pure all your life, a devoted follower of god.”

“Don’t worry,” Beomgyu says, hand coming off your eyes for just a moment— not that you even noticed, your eyes had been screwed shut all along— only to wrap a cloth around your head instead, deft hands making a careful knot at the back of your head; sliding your clothing to the side, Beomgyu ignores the way you jolt when his soft lips press a kiss to your shoulder. His breath tickles as it fans on your skin.

“You’ve done well, my lamb.”

Beomgyu knows that you will never be able to grasp what is happening; especially not in this stunned state you’re in, the cloth around your eyes already soaked through with silent tears, hands limp at your sides as he takes in your face curiously, noticing your lips that move with silent words.

Even now, you pray.

My Lord and my God, your lips read, whispers of the faint words slipping from you, in my acceptance of the type of death you plan for me, I join your sufferings on the Cross.

Beomgyu watches you hesitate. Your bottom lip wobbles and your throat swallows thickly.

All I ask is that you stand beside me and never leave me.

Even through the veil that has been put over your eyes, a stray tear manages to slip through.

Beomgyu should feel bad for laughing, he supposes— but he can’t help it, taking in the melodramatic sight with thorough amusement, watching you flinch and press your lips together tightly. He shakes his head softly, finding himself becoming fond of your antics as he takes a hold of your hand, ignoring the way you startle so easily as he guides you to where he wants you instead.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, leading you to press back against the altar table, stiffening at the unexpected feeling, “I fear you may have misunderstood me entirely. See, I don’t want to kill you, my lamb.”

Your brows furrow; he’s confused you, he can tell.

“There’s something your pretty little heart has been curious about, isn’t there?” he asks, a grin stretching across his face as you shiver, already aware of what he may be hinting at— but even so, you try to remain clueless, even if you’re quite terrible at it. “Something… you want.”

“There is nothing,” you reply, quickly, albeit shakily, “please, I just— just spare me—”

“Now, there’s no need to lie.” Beomgyu coos, placing his hands on your waist, hoisting you up on the altar table in one swift motion; you gasp, hands reaching blindly for something to stable yourself on, one landing on Beomgyu’s shoulder and the other on the marble beneath you— the hand on his body quickly slips off, and Beomgyu finds himself craving for more.

“You’ve been denying yourself for so long,” Beomgyu murmurs, his voice a hypnotizing lull that causes you to gulp. His fingertips dance across your waist, trailblazing a fire that refuses to die down, mixing with the fear that pounds your heart against your chest. “You must feel so, so trapped.”

“There’s no need to pretend here,” he smiles, reaching up to caress your cheek, watching you gulp, fists clenched tightly in your lap, “I’m aware of everything. It’s only human nature, after all.”

Fervently, you shake your head. Your consistent denial is almost impressive to Beomgyu, the facade of confidence you try to exude with your voice both evident and pity-inducing.

“I refuse to give in to the temptations of sin,” you say, the words like a recited script at this point; Beomgyu’s lip curls in distaste.

“It is not sin,” he whispers softly, hands beginning to wander down from your sides to your hips, grasping softly at the skin before moving down, to the tops of your thighs and over your hands that remain clenched tightly, “it is merely the human experience.”

His hands feel hot over your own; you can feel him press against your body from where you sit, undoubtedly looming over you and caging you in as he speaks. His actions are absentminded as he caresses your hand, stroking the skin soothingly as he continues to invade your senses, whispering things that only the deepest, darkest parts of your heart have considered.

“You’ve worked so hard to live a pious, pure life,” Beomgyu says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you frown, finally beginning to listen to the words he feeds you, “even at the face of danger, you remained loyal— even now, you continue to refuse me.”

“But, don’t you see? The lord has brought you here for a reason.” His eyes shine the moment you shift restlessly under his grip, pressing himself tighter against you, “your dreams, your thoughts, they have led you here for a purpose only you can serve.��

You try to refute him yet again; your lips open, but you hesitate, unsure of what to say. You remain quiet instead.

“Will you deny the fate god has bestowed you?”

A soft pout forms on your face; your heart is racing, and your mind must be too, because you don’t bother to react when Beomgyu’s hand leaves your own, trailing down your thighs and prodding your legs open so he can stand between them— too deep in thought to realize that he’s lifting your nightgown up, bunching it at your knees tentatively.

Beomgyu watches you carefully, taking in your silence and smiling triumphantly as he speaks, “Here,” his other hand slides to place itself on the bare skin of your inner thigh, watching with sadistic pleasure as you jolt and yelp in surprise, “I’ll show you what it is you’ve been searching for.”

Your skin is tender as he begins to trail forward, eager to touch you and familiarize himself with you— only to get stopped by your trembling hand, his eyes darting to your troubled face, brows furrowing with confusion as he watches you muster the courage to say something.

“N…Not…” it feels as though nerves and fear have swallowed you whole, having to take a deep breath in order to continue your sentence, “Not here. Not like this.”

“Hmm? But where else could this possibly happen?” he asks teasingly, much too desperate to heed your half-hearted request, “my lamb, it is perfect here.”

“Beomgyu, this place, it’s sacred,” your lips pressed together, using all the courage within you to speak up, “It is a home to me, I couldn’t bear to desecrate it—”

Beomgyu’s fingers dig into the plush of your thigh, able to feel his face hover over yours as he speaks through gritted teeth, eyes burning holes into your skin.

“This was my home too.”

It all happens so suddenly; you’re pushed to lay back against the table, legs forced open as Beomgyu gets closer still, your lips parting in a soft gasp as he successfully bunches your nightgown at your hips, looming over you so he can undo your coat.

“And our lord has decreed that it is here where I finally take you.” he hisses, watches as you can only let our a broken whimper and shift restlessly beneath him; the fire has consumed you wholly by now, he knows, the seeds of lust planted within you far too much for a person like you to bare— even the graze of his fingertips against your bare skin is enough to have you gasping.

“I’ve waited long enough to taste you.”

Your body is alight with nerves, buzzing at the sensations around you— though you see nothing, it heightens your other senses, forced to take note of every motion and touch Beomgyu leaves on you, from his deft hands that undo your coat to the warmth of his body between your thighs, lips pressed together in a mix of anticipation and dread— all you can do is lie and wait.

When Beomgyu’s hands slither back down to your core, you’re a squirming mess; he’s done nothing to you, yet you already seem so broken down and pliant— you’re a sweet sight, bitten lips parting eagerly in surprise once he suddenly plants his hand firmly against your core; your panties are pathetically soaked through, a soft cry escaping you at the heat of his touch against you, hands flying to grab at his wrist— unsure of whether to press him closer of pry him off.

In the end, you do neither of the two. Beomgyu grins at your hesitation, a clear battle still ongoing inside your mind as you allow him to slowly rock his palm against your cunt, rubbing at your clit and causing you to sob softly at the unfamiliar sensation; your back arches and jolts of pleasure strike through you, the underlying guilt of it all causing tears to quickly well up at the corners of your eyes— though, from pleasure or shame, you’re no longer sure of.

“Poor thing,” he coos softly, applying a sudden pressure against your cunt, all to watch the way your back arches in surprise, “it’s quite easy to make you cry, isn’t it?”

“This must all be so new to you,” he hums, rubbing at your cunt until your panties have begun to stick uncomfortably to you, your arousal soaking through and coating the heel of his hand thickly, “so pretty. Like an angel.”

His words cause a wave of heat to wash over your body; you feel restless, desperate for more, yet unsure of how to communicate as you find yourself hesitating each time, the undying guilt within you forcing your fingertips to dig into Beomgyu’s forearm a bit deeper.

“Hmm? What is it you need, my lamb?” he asks, even if he can practically see the thoughts running through your head, reading your body and the way your hips fight to cant against his hand, “Tell me, what do you want?”

The way you shake your head petulantly brings a huff from Beomgyu; he watches as you heat up at his question, lips trembling with embarrassment, chin tucked down into your chest as though it would be enough to hide from his gaze— chuckling, Beomgyu allows a few more seconds to pass, letting you sit with your own confliction, before he finally decides to take pity on you; a shaky gasp escapes your lips as Beomgyu’s hand shifts, middle and ring fingers trailing up until they press against the fabric of your panties, pushing in and teasing your leaking hole.

“Why do you hold back still?” he asks softly, his hand that isn’t teasing you incessantly smoothing down your thigh, stopping at your knee so he can wrap it around his slim waist, “there’s no need to continue this act of yours; do not lie under the eyes of god.”

You cry softly, a cacophony of emotions raging within you as your nails dig deeper into your palms, cunt throbbing and sending sparks of electricity as Beomgyu presses his fingers further into you, stretching the fabric and soaking it with your own arousal— through hushed, trembled words, you finally gather the courage to speak.

“I want…” you hesitate, shifting on the cold marble of the altar table, turning your head to the side in a faux attempt to avoid Beomgyu’s scrutiny, “I want more.”

“I don’t believe you.” Beomgyu immediately chides, his fingers moving to ghost over your clit, a satisfied smile growing on his face as you feel the shocks of pleasure from his movements, already too much for your innocent body, “you expect me to take such a weak request seriously?”

You gasp in surprise as Beomgyu suddenly takes a hold of your chin, forcing you to face him once more as you feel him hovering over you; his breath fans across your face, eyelids fluttering behind your blindfold at the sensation.

“Tell me again,” he says, his fingers applying just the slightest more pressure on your clit, watching as the pleasure breaks you effortlessly; his lips brush against the corner of your mouth, able to feel his coy smile as he speaks. “Tell me like you mean it.”

Beomgyu waits for you eagerly; his touch on your cunt is almost nonexistent, applying just enough pressure here and there as a reminder of what it is you so desperately wish for— it’s so easy to get you to where he wants, he thinks, watching you become overwhelmed by his presence, by the pleasure he continues to give and take away. After a mere few seconds, you finally cave.

“Beomgyu…” you trail off, the sudden use of his name bringing a shiver through his body, the sound sweet and pure like he dreamed it to be, “Beomgyu, I can’t— I feel so strange, please help me— I need more.”

He chuckles lowly at your words; placing a gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth, Beomgyu straightens up, leaving you for a moment in order to hook his fingers under your panties, ready to drag them slowly down your hips.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he sighs aloud, watching with fond eyes as you startle at the sensation, legs jumping to close back together— but he won’t allow it, standing firmly between them and forcing your hips to lift, all so he can pull off the only article of clothing standing between him and what he’s desired for so long; his eyes darken at the string of arousal that follows the seat of your panties, eagerly taking in your puffy, needy cunt, body becoming alight with a carnal need to consume you whole. “You’re perfect. Truly a gift from god.”

He can’t help but grin at his own comment, eyes flickering back up at the altar above him, the candles that flicker wildly— then he looks back down at you, your puffy, tear stained face and your hands that remain tense at your sides, lips pressed together in fear of letting a sound escape— but Beomgyu is much too eager to let you have what you want.

This ashamed and reserved attitude of yours will be no more— he’s determined to have you melt under his touch, fingertips curious as they finally begin to caress your bare cunt, teeth sinking into his lip as he takes in every gasp, arch, and tense your body gives him.

It’s slow and oh so cruel, the way he swipes the pads of his fingertips along your slit, bringing the arousal to your clit and circling it softly, all so he can watch you pant and shiver at the sensations— your hands have moved to grasp at your clothes, jaw clenched as your mind tries to keep up with all these new sensations: you feel so hot and restless, a fiery itch settling deep in your core, only alleviated with the stray sparks of pleasure Beomgyu gives you— it’s too much, yet not enough at all.

“Won’t you let me hear you?” Beomgyu asks, fingers beginning to prod at your entrance, circling it leisurely as he observes you, “it’s no fun like this.”

You can hear the pout in his words, petulant and teasing as he coos out your name, “C’mon, I know you sound as sweet as you look.”

You’re given no warning when his fingers breach your entrance; a yelp escapes you before you can process it, the sudden stretch bringing chills down your spine— it’s just his middle finger first, lithe and calculated as it curls and prods at your walls, feeling you flutter and clench around him as he adds his ring finger in next— you’re letting out a cry at how fast it all happens, a hand reaching down to grasp at his wrist, a mixture of shock and pleasure filling your being.

“Beomgyu…!”

“Again,” he murmurs, fingers beginning to stretch your walls, pumping steadily and curling, listening to the quiet mewls and moans you let out, “louder. Show me how much you like it.”

“Beomgyu… oh–! N-not there, ah–!” You’re a squirming mess, shifting beneath his hold and shaking your head, the feelings far too much for you— Beomgyu doesn’t bother to heed your requests, abusing the soft, spongy parts of your walls that seem to make you react the most; you choke and hiccup pathetic moans, thighs tensing and spasming around him, hands shaking from the tight hold you have on your nightgown; it gets difficult having to chase your hips after a while, Beomgyu’s eyes narrowing as he places a harsh hand down on you, pinning you down against the table, fingers digging into the soft skin as you gasp.

“Stay still.” is all he says to you, palm pressing against your clit as he slowly fingers you, drinking in the miniscule changes of your expression eagerly, “Don’t fight it.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks, punctuating his words with a cruel curl into you; you gasp, chest heaving as a tight coil builds up within you, “doesn’t it feel so nice?”

“So sad, you’ve been denying yourself such bliss for so long,” Beomgyu utters softly, cooing at the way you cry and struggle to remain sane, overwhelmed by everything Beomgyu does to you, “won’t you let me take care of you?”

Carefully, he hovers over you, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, lips caressing the column of your neck as he smiles softly.

“Wouldn’t you like for me to taste you?”

He’s sure you don’t fully grasp what it is he might mean— but you’re eager nonetheless, a gasp escaping your lips, so soft he might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been so close— the tight clench of your cunt around him is enough of a sign anyway.

You can only hear shifting; your ears perk up as you try to decipher what could be happening, feeling Beomgyu’s hand wander down your thighs, the loss of his heat above you, the flickering warmth of the candles around you— you lay still, with bated breath and buzzing nerves.

Your mouth falls open, a loud moan falling from your mouth and bouncing off the walls.

It’s all too much for your poor, inexperienced body; it’s overwhelming, the pleasure wrapping you up and burning you alive as your thighs attempt to shut, only to close in on Beomgyu’s head that remains steady, large hands splayed on your hips as he holds you down, his mouth continuing his assault against your cunt.

The chants of his name and your broken moans are enough to keep him motivated— he’s lapping at your clit hungrily, moving down to suck at the arousal that leaks from your entrance, perfect nose bumping into you as he sighs and groans against you.

You think you might’ve gone mad; sounds you didn’t think were possible are escaping you, each more pitiful and helpless than the last. Your hands wander absentmindedly, not realizing what it is you’re searching for until they’ve finally curled into his thick hair, tangling strands around your fingers and tugging rashly— you can feel him moan against you at the actions, the feeling bringing a shiver down your spine.

“B-Beom…gyu!” you whine out, hips attempting to wiggle out of his hold, hands tugging his head closer— your eyes remain screwed tight behind your blindfold, tears pricking at them as your mind races to process what is happening to you— between your legs, Beomgyu grins triumphantly, nails digging into your delicate thighs as he licks a long stripe along your slit.

In times like these, Beomgyu can’t help but be reminded of who he is, what his existence is for— his tongue is long, abnormally so, as it enters you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he laps up your essence and fucks you with it, listening to your startled cries morph into nothing but wanton lust, choking on the syllables of his name and brokenly pleading for him to not stop— as if he could ever be capable of doing so.

You’re delicious, like a ripe fruit that has been eyed for too long, too high on a tree for anyone to take— victory feels sweet on Beomgyu’s tongue as you clench and leak around him, allowing you to grind against him and take the reins of what you want, giving you the pleasure you seek— and he can feel you getting wound up quite quickly, your keens and cries loud enough to rival the screams of fear you were letting out only moments ago— but then again, none of that matters as long as Beomgyu has his hands on you.

You’re almost there, a climax strong enough to wreck you approaching quickly— and as much as Beomgyu would love to feel it, to swallow your cum as it drips out your fluttering cunt— he can’t. Not yet, and certainly not like this. Though it pains him, he pulls away from your cunt that attempts to suck him back in.

The sob you let out almost makes Beomgyu regret his decision; you’re a broken, confused mess, panting like a dog as you cry and wonder why it is that Beomgyu stopped so suddenly— gently, Beomgyu pries your hands off from where they tug at his hair, listening to your disoriented mumbles of his name, reaching blindly for him as he rises to his feet. And you’re left in the darkness once more.

Before you can react, Beomgyu’s hands lift your head, quickly undoing your blindfold, letting it fall against the altar next to your face; your eyes flutter open from the action, brows furrowed as everything slowly comes into focus.

Beomgyu hovers above you, the flickering candlelight around the two of you casting an ethereal glow around his face; it is warm and fond as he looks down at you, plump lips pulled into a gentle smile as he caresses your cheek, letting out a breathy chuckle at the way you fluster immediately, unable to hold his gaze.

“Look at me.” he says, his voice compelling enough to have you following his command, the feeling so natural you haven’t realized you’ve obeyed until you’re meeting his dark eyes— there is no light in his pupils, despite the many sources that continue to fall onto the two of you. He smiles, a hand continuing its reassuring strokes against your skin, the other moving down to grab your thigh, wrapping it around his waist once more. “Don’t be afraid— keep your eyes on me.”

You feel something prodding at your entrance; you stiffen, breath hitching and hands instinctively reaching up to place themselves flat against Beomgyu’s chest— with wide eyes, you stare back at him, unable to break this entrancing spell you’ve caught yourself in, lips parting in a silent gasp as Beomgyu’s eyes soften. Slowly, he pushes in.

The feeling of his cockhead breaching your walls has you gasping sharply, shock painting your face and nails digging into your chest as your back arches slightly— the stretch is new and unexpected, the feeling of him inside you causing your stomach to twist in pain and pleasure— it’s so sudden, you feel as though you’re not ready, yet your body cries for him to continue, feeling him pause and still inside you.

The smile on Beomgyu’s face is practically permanent; words could not explain the satisfaction he feels, the twisted victory he gains from every inch he pushes inside you, virgin walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice, your wide, doe eyes glazing over with pleasure the longer he takes, the more he allows you to adjust.

Your chest heaves by the time he’s fully inside you, face screwing up as you feel him bottom out, his tip pressing firmly into you— your voice breaks as you call out his name, searching for comfort he will not be able to provide. Instead, he coos softly at you, empty, sugary words and reassurances that are merely practiced in his mind, feathery caresses against your temple as he shushes you, telling you that everything’s okay, that you’ll feel good soon enough.

“I’ve got you,” he purrs, even if you continue to tense every time he shifts, legs twitching at the sheer stretch you’ve suddenly been forced to take. “It’s okay, don’t be nervous.”

When he begins to pull out, criminally slow and teasing, you gasp— and he grins, fully expecting it as he hovers over your lips, only to press a chaste kiss to your nose as he moves to stand straight, only the tip of his cock left inside you.

The sight of you is nothing short of divine; just seeing you like this is enough to bring him energy, greedy gaze taking in your broken expression, eyes flickering to your parted lips that tremble and gasp out his name. He groans softly, the eyes fluttering shut as he takes a moment to appreciate the way your cunt clenches around him, warm and wet, nothing like the scraps he was forced to feed on as punishment. You’re perfect, pure, full of life.

Before he can second guess himself, his hips slam back in.

The pace he’s set is nothing short of cruel; his feather-light touches and chaste kisses had been nothing but a show, all an attempt to lower your guard and allow him to seize you at your weakest; you yelp in surprise and attempt to cling onto him, overwhelmed by the harshness of his cock as it pounds into you, aiming for the most sensitive spots within you that leave you begging and crying out— but whether it’s for him to stop or continue, you’re not entirely sure— your reasoning blurred into one big mess long ago.

It doesn’t take long for Beomgyu to lose himself in the feeling of you; greedy, rough hands grasping at your skin, groping the soft skin of your thighs, your hips, wandering up to squeeze and toy with your breasts— and you can only lay there and take it all, watching him use you to satisfy himself, unable to help the way your cunt clenches and drools at the sight. His hips angle and his cock slams deep against you, hitting a spot he’s never hit before— and you stiffen, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cry out.

“Oh!” you yelp, tears pooling at your eyes, a hand slamming over your mouth at the sudden noise— but even so, your muffled cries still slip out from the cracks of your fingers. “O-Oh my—! ah—!”

“Why silence yourself?” Beomgyu laughs softly, slightly out of breath as he continues to cling to you, hips rutting wildly into you, chasing that familiar bliss he grew addicted to; he proceeds to aim for that particular spot over and over, watching tears ebb from the corners of your eyes, flowing down the sides of your face and dripping onto the pristine white marble of the altar table. “Go on, say it.”

“Say it, call out their name, let this whole sanctuary know how good it feels,” he hisses, face hovering over yours once more, eager to watch you crumble.

“Call to your god,” he whispers, a soft moan falling between heavy breaths, feeling the way you squeeze and suck him in, your peak approaching much too fast for you to handle, “go on, pray that they forgive your sins and look past the way your tight cunt begs to keep this demon inside you.”

His cock feels like heaven inside you; it’s relentless, slamming into you as his hand falls from its tight hold on your thigh to your clit, rubbing tight circles that cause your body to tighten until it can no longer hold back.

“Oh my God— Beomgyu!” you’re a drooling, tearful, pitiful sight as you finally crash down, sobbing and babbling words that blend together, your hands pulling at Beomgyu’s shirt until you’re bringing him down to you.

Beomgyu’s kiss is celestial. His lips slot perfectly against yours, a soft grunt escaping him as he finally cums inside you; thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your cunt, filling you until you can no longer hold it in— you tremble and you hold Beomgyu close to you throughout it all, your mind emptied out and craving nothing but him.

Your eyes flutter shut; your body tingles, your hold on him weakening as you begin to slump back against the altar. It’s getting harder to move, sluggishly trying your best to keep up with Beomgyu’s sloppy kisses, your chest beginning to cave in as your lungs burn and beg for air.

You want to pull away. You want to stop— yet, you find with a delayed horror that you can’t.

Beomgyu won’t pull away; Beomgyu can’t pull away, feeling his arms snake beneath your figure, one wrapping around your waist tightly, the other slithering up your back and cradling the back of your head, holding it up so he can keep you as close to him as possible.

Your vision has begun to blur; your hands have fallen limp at your sides. You feel weakened, only your lips able to move as they mindlessly follow after Beomgyu, sluggish and messy movements that go on whether you want to or not.

Behind him, a crackling sound emits; the candles around you flicker wildly, divine feathers that were once proudly on display above you beginning to darken and fall, burning off and becoming a charred black— blood seeps from the crevices where feathers slip away, landing on top of you and on the altar you lay on.

His wings are a shriveled, grisly sight. He’s transformed entirely before your very eyes, pulling away slowly and sighing softly into your parted lips. Slowly, his hands slither off you, laying you gently and standing straight to take in the mess he’s made. All you can do is stare back through bleary eyes.

“My lamb,” he says affectionately, bringing a hand up to cup your face; it is only then that you’re able to notice the state of his hands, charred and injured, just like his wings, animal-like claws replacing his nails. They dig slightly into your skin as he smiles down at you, utterly enamored.

“I will cherish this ‘till kingdom come.”

His enchanting expression is the last thing you see. His claw moves faster than the human eye can process as it slices cleanly across the canvas of your neck.

Your body jolts at the action, not a single shift in your expression as your body relaxes against the altar table. Your eyes remain open and dazed with pleasure.

Blood flows from the deep crack of his cut; it flows from your mouth as well, and all Beomgyu can do is watch as the color slowly fades from your skin, the light in your eyes no more. He looms over you in silence, lingering on even when he knows there’s nothing left for him there. A pool of your blood has formed around your head, a twisted halo that stains the marble.

Beomgyu’s eyes remain transfixed on your wound, emotionless eyes watching the blood drip out steadily. Then, they begin to wander, trailing down until they stop at a certain point, hypnotized by the thought that suddenly enters his mind.

Before he can second guess himself, Beomgyu’s hand hovers above your chest.

It is not easy to reach your heart. It is an obscene and difficult process, though Beomgyu doesn’t bat an eye throughout it all; blood coats his forearm once he finally succeeds, a happy hum escaping him as he examines the item in his hands with fascination.

It’s just as transcendent as the rest of you. Taking your life force was enough to make Beomgyu feel normal again, but with this, he’s sure that you would fuel his energy for the rest of his miserable eternity.

His eyes soften; it’s so fragile, it drips onto his skin and sings to him, the last of your innocence begging to be released, to be given peace; instead, Beomgyu brings it closer to him, sighing slowly as he gets one last look at it.

And he bites.

He can almost hear your voice, the memories trapped within as he closes his eyes, chewing and swallowing and biting again. Tilting his head back, he all but groans in satisfaction.

His eyes slowly flutter open. He’s met with the chandeliers above him, the looming altar to his left calling his attention. Apathetically, his head lolls to the side, getting a better look at the statues that stand over him. Taking another bite, he feels blood leak onto his lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile.

He’s never tasted anything purer.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fanfiction

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evansbby · 2 years ago

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⭒✮▹𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: older husband!Ari Levinson x naive wife!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, pregnancy!kink, breeding!kink, housewife!kink, lactation!kink, size difference, age gap, innocence!kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari finally comes home to his very pregnant wife.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m just surprised I didn’t write this sooner tbh. Enjoy!

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s booming voice echoes around the house, sending thrills up and down your spine. You feel a huge smile plaster itself on your face – despite the fact that you’ve been married to him for almost a year now, you still feel giddy like a little girl every time you hear him come home. You carefully set down the casserole that has just finished cooking, impatiently shaking your oven mitts off before making a beeline to the front door and launching yourself at your big, beefy husband.

“Ari!” You hug him hard, pressing your nose into his hard chest that smells so deliciously like him. Like fresh soap and his manly musk with a hint of salty seawater. Just him. And you can’t help but breath him in, trying your best to climb up his body and wrap your legs around his waist, which is obviously a hard task considering how big your belly has gotten. “Missed you so much,” you mumble against his solid body, loving the feel of his warm arms enveloping you into his embrace. You wish he’d hug you harder, completely crush your body against his like how he used to. Till you can’t breathe but in the best possible way.

But of course, he’s ten times more mindful of you now. Pregnancy and all.

“Baby,” Ari breathes, burying his nose in your hair and nuzzling the top of your head. He presses a bunch of kisses against your hairline, one hand already on your belly (its favourite place to be, as of late), stroking it softly while his other hand meanders down to your ass (his other favourite part of your body). “Mm, I missed you too, sweet girl. Missed your little body against me like this.”

He cups your face, tipping it upwards and lifting you slightly so he can plant a kiss to your lips. He was just so damn tall and big – kissing was a bit of a problem unless he bent down or picked you up. You didn’t mind, though. You loved how much bigger he was than you, how strong and beefy and muscular he looked.

And Ari’s genes were strong enough that he’d passed them down to his unborn children too. You were about eight months along with Ari’s twins in your belly. Both boys. Both bigger than average according to your last scan. And both extremely active and strong just like their daddy – you knew because of all the somersaults and kicks they were subjecting you to day after day. But it was worth it. Ari said that you were the always the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, but pregnancy just made you glow differently. And he’d get that fire in his eyes every time he looked at your belly growing his babies, and it made you feel so powerful, so sexy, so wonderful.

You’d only been married to Ari for a month before you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d met him less than a year ago, this business tycoon who’d swept you off your innocent feet. He was handsome, charming and respectful, and he’d proposed to you after only a few weeks. You’d said yes, of course. And he’d made it clear that he wanted a big family, a cute little housewife (you) who took care of him and his children. You were all too happy to oblige, because you wanted all those things too.

“How are my boys?” Ari whispers, cupping your belly with his huge palm. God, he was just so big – built strong like a wrestler yet also lithe and athletic. Not to mention so goddamned handsome! You couldn’t believe your luck. Some of your friends had told you that you were too young for a man like Ari. You were only fresh out of college and he was almost double your age and the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the country. That didn’t matter to you, though. You liked being his little baby, having him dote over you and spoil you (which he had done since the day he met you, and continued to do till this day).

And so what if he babied you all the time and made all your decisions for you? You liked giving up the control, and Ari was just so smart and level-headed, it just made sense to allow him to take over every aspect of your life.

“Your boys have been extra rowdy today.” You giggle as your husband continues to press kisses all over your face and neck, his long hair tickling you as he does so. “They keep kicking me like they want to come out already. How am I supposed to tell them they’re not due for another month?”

Ari smirks, easily picking you up with one arm like you’re a little baby yourself. His other hand is still splayed over your swollen stomach. He’d grown addicted to cupping your belly ever since the day you told him you were pregnant. It was a problem in the early days, when none of your friends and family knew yet your husband kept stroking your belly in front of them, a cocky look on his handsome face that all but gave everything away.

“I can’t wait till they come, but I also want to keep you pregnant just a little bit longer.” Ari murmurs, carrying you into the living room. He gives your ass a loud slap, the action making you yelp and clutch his muscular bicep as he grins. “You’re so sexy like this, baby. Have I ever told you that?”

“Only about a gazillion times,” you roll your eyes, but this earns you another hard slap on the ass and a warning look from your husband. You squeal, “Ari! That hurt!”

“You know not to roll your eyes at me, honey. I may have married you and knocked you up but you’re still my little baby.” Ari pats your bum and gives it a soft squeeze before kissing your cheek to make you smile. “And I’ve told you to call me daddy, princess.”

“Oh yeah, sorry daddy!”

“That’s okay, baby.”

You’d called Ari “daddy” during sex ever since he took your virginity on your first date almost a year ago. It just fit him; he took care of you so good and he was just so big and strong and dominant. Ari was really into it, always coaxing you to call him daddy – even outside the bedroom. And he’d always look so extremely smug when you’d inevitably slip and accidentally call him daddy in front of your friends and family.

But especially now that the two of you were married and lived in Ari’s big suburban mansion, he just went crazy every time he’d come home to you in your checkered apron, pregnant with his babies and calling him daddy. He’d told you once that it was his idea of heaven on Earth, and you were the one who’d given it to him.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now, baby.” Ari tells you as he takes a seat on his armchair and sets you on his lap. You’re still dwarfed by his huge size even when he’s sitting down with you on top of him, holding you securely on his knee like you’re his little baby. His gaze grows dark as he watches your breasts bounce slightly as he sits down, pink tongue peeking out to lick his lips hungrily. “I couldn’t concentrate at work, all I could think about was my baby wife, round with my children and taking care of my house in your cute little dress.”

You glance down at your dress, it’s one of many that Ari had bought for you. He had said that baby wives only ever wore dresses around the house so it was easier for their daddies to fuck them. You had absolutely no problem with that, seeing as you loved wearing the cute dresses he bought for you, and you also loved it whenever he’d slip his hand up the cotton material, or bent you over a random piece of furniture around the house and fucked the living daylights out of you.

Ari was a loving and doting husband, but sometimes he would get extremely rugged and rough with you. He’d tell you that you were his wife and it was your duty to bend over for him whenever he pleased. Sometimes, he’d watch you with lust-filled eyes while you did the housework around the house. And all he had to do was snap his fingers and you’d come running over to him.

He’d either push you down to your knees and make you suck him off till he was satisfied, or he’d bend you over the arm of the couch and fuck you fast and hard, calling you his cute little baby housewife, telling you how all your holes belonged to him only, because he was your husband and he owned you. And you’d whimper and mewl and wail and cry while he had his way with you, till he’d fill you up with his cum and then pull you upright, straighten your dress, slap your ass and send you back to your housework.

No wonder he knocked you up so quickly.

“Honey? You still here?” Ari bounces you on his lap and you blink before smiling up at him.

“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Why would you need to think, baby? Daddy does all the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.” Ari bounces you on his lap again, making you giggle while his eyes once more zero in on your breasts. They’re so much bigger now that you’re pregnant, and Ari has been paying more attention to them than usual. In fact, your pregnant body in general has him incensed and feral. He’s always grabbing at you and pawing at you, squeezing and groping and stroking your every curve like he can’t get enough.

He reaches past you to grab the cold bottle of beer which you’d already set out for him on the coffee table. You watch him as he takes a deep swig, admiring how handsome he is. He’s got a defined jawline covered with his thick beard that makes him look more manly and virile than ever. A gorgeous sloped nose with a cute bump on it that you love to kiss, and high cheekbones smattered with freckles. He sports a golden tan almost all year round, as well as a wonderfully beefy, sun-kissed body that you can’t get enough of.

Even now, you slip your hand up and down his hard stomach, feeling his hairy, toned abs through his cotton shirt that’s stretched taught over them. God, he really was the hottest man alive. All the women that worked for him were crazy about him, including his secretary. But Ari had told you not to worry, that you were the love of his life and he’d waited forty years to find you, and he’d wait forty more to find you again.

“Dinner’s all ready for you.” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek because he looks so deliciously handsome and you can’t help it. “I made all your favourites, daddy. I think I’m getting better at cooking now.”

You’d struggled with cooking at the beginning of your marriage. You knew Ari expected you to be a good little housewife, but cooking was never your strongest suit. Ari hadn’t minded though, always finding it adorable when you’d sheepishly serve him burnt food that was borderline inedible. And then he’d order a takeaway and you’d both eat in front of the TV, and he’d lick the pizza sauce off the corner of your mouth before pulling you into his lap to make out.

But you’d wanted to be a good housewife for him, after all, Ari worked so hard to provide for you and he bought you whatever you wanted. He didn’t expect you to slave away in the kitchen, of course, but you figured he deserved a good homecooked meal once in a while. And so, you sifted through various cookbooks and online recipes and YouTube videos until you’d finally been able to cook something half decent. And Ari had been so proud of you when you’d served him a roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, and making you husband proud was all you really wanted to do.

Back in the present, Ari playfully chucks you under your chin, “You’re an amazing cook, sweetheart. I can’t wait to eat dinner. But I won’t lie, baby, right now I’m hungry for something else.”

His eyes go down to your chest again, and you smile demurely as thrills shoot down to your core. Ari’s big hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lewdly before tweaking your hard nipples through the thin material of your dress. You never really wore bras inside the house, and Ari was not one to complain about that. He grins wickedly when two wet spots appear on the fabric covering your nipples.

You’d started lactating recently, and Ari had been nothing short of thrilled about that. “Baby wives feed their daddies their mommy milk,” he’d told you, and of course, he was always right. You were scared at first, having him drink from you. But he’d been so ravenous, so hungry for your milk and the intimacy that came with doing something like that. How could you possibly say no?

Now, Ari fed from you all the time. It was almost a daily occurrence which almost always ended in mind-blowing sex.

Ari holds you close to him as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up your arms to push the straps of your dress down. Your breasts are painful and heavy as he frees them from the dress, your nipples already hard as glass but you still hiss as the cool air hits them, making them even more erect, if that was possible.

“Poor baby,” Ari coos, tweaking your nipple casually while you squirm in his arms, whimpering like a baby who needs to be tended to. That only incenses Ari more, and he gives your erect nipple a couple of flicks, making you gasp as he laughs wickedly. “Look at your sexy tits, all sore and heavy. They must really hurt, huh baby?”

You pout and nod, grabbing his forearm desperately, “Y-Yeah, they do. Daddy, plea–”

“My poor baby,” Ari continues, squeezing and groping to his heart’s content as droplets of your milk begin to leak. Your husband licks his lips, spreading the liquid all over your sore breasts, making you hornier than ever but he only smirks. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for daddy to come home and breastfeed from you, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You whimper, jutting your chest out till your heavy breasts are almost smothering his face. And all he does is laugh, giving your nipple another hard pinch while you feel the tears of frustration well in your eyes. He reduced you to tears so easily, but it was only because you craved him so badly and didn’t like it when things didn’t go your way. He often teased you about this, calling you a needy, spoiled baby who lacked any type of patience.

Ari gives your nipple a light flick with is tongue, his blue eyes shining wickedly as your breath hitches. But then he lets out a feral growl, completely enveloping your nipple between his lips and sucking down hard. You whimper again, grabbing his hair and holding his head close to your breast as he begins to drink your milk, groaning, biting and licking at your nipple like a starved man.

“God, you have such sexy tits, baby.” He mumbles against your breasts, burying his face into them as he continues to suckle. He grabs your other tit and gives it a rough squeeze, kneading the soft flesh with his expert fingers. “And your mommy milk tastes so good.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy!” You manage to get out through all the different sensations you’re feeling. He’s still bouncing you up and down on his lap, his hard dick poking against your butt like a steel rod through his pants. Plus, his mouth working against your nipple is making you see stars, and you feel pleasure mixed with the relief from him draining the milk from your breast.

“Good girl with good manners,” Ari grunts approvingly, his voice slightly muffled as he lewdly takes your whole breast into his mouth (as much of it that fits) giving it a hearty suck while rocking you against him as he dry-humps his dick up into your clothed core. “Just like how daddy trained you to be. Fuck, baby. I bet none of my friends’ wives are as obedient and cute as you, huh?”

“N-No!” you agree with a yelp when he gives your ass a firm slap before grabbing a handful of your ass-cheek from under your dress and giving it a lewd jiggle. “D-Daddy, need you so bad!” You try to grab his hard dick out from the waistband of his pants but he easily slaps your hands away, making you pout and whine as he continues to suck your breasts.

“Let daddy have his meal first.” Ari scolds, slapping your butt again, harder this time, before focusing his attention to your other breast. He suckles you sweetly at first, before growing greedy once your milk starts flowing into his mouth. Incensed, he moans against your breast, grabbing your hips and repositioning you on top of him. He bounces you up and down straight on top of his crotch while he feeds from you, and you moan wantonly as your body begins to work itself up.

“B-But daddy, I waited all – ah! – I waited all day for you!” You pout, trying to grind down against your husband but he holds you in place, always wanting to control your pleasure and never letting you seek it out by yourself unless you had his permission.

Ari releases your nipple with a pop before grinning wolfishly down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as his hand splays itself on your belly once more. “Well, you were a good, patient baby today, weren’t you?”

“I was, I was!” He slips his hand down under your dress, quickly settling it between your legs while your breath hitches and eyes cloud over with lust and want. And all it takes is for his pointer finger to press down on your swollen, panty-covered clit and you’re cumming. You squeak and clutch on to his muscular forearms as you orgasm, your other hand going down to hold his hand in place between your legs as you hump and ride against it. Your panties are completely soaked through and your entire body is buzzing with sensitivity as you pant his name.

Ari looks extremely smug as he watches you orgasm in his lap, leaving a sizable pool of your wetness on his clothed leg. Casually, he tweaks your nipple, his blue eyes trained on your face as you gasp in response, your body twitching in his arms.

“You’re so sensitive now, baby. I bet I could make you cum without even touching you.” Ari says, looking proud and smug at the same time.

“S-Sorry,” you shoot him a sheepish look once you’ve come down from your high, “can’t help it sometimes, daddy. Specially since I can’t ever touch myself when you’re not here.”

That was one of Ari’s firm rules that you had to follow. At the beginning of your marriage, Ari made it clear that baby wives like you had to follow all the rules that your husband set. That included not speaking to other men without his permission, always doing what he said, always telling him where you were, and of course, never touching yourself without his permission – certainly never when you were alone in the house.

“Dumb babies like you don’t know how to touch yourself.” Ari answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slips his hand out from between your legs, licking his fingers lewdly. “That’s why you need daddy to tend to you all the time. Now tell me, baby, how would you like to be fucked tonight?”

In next to no time at all, your big, beefy husband has you on all fours on your king-sized bed upstairs. A feral energy had overtaken him when you’d shyly voiced your desires to be fucked as hard as possible. Pregnancy made you so horny and feral for him, and in the early days he only ever allowed you on top, because he was so much bigger than you and so scared of hurting you. But soon, he’d learned to be rough in a way that had you both feeling satisfied without ever really causing you any harm.

And so, Ari had wasted no time in carrying you up the stairs, laying you down on the bed and slapping your ass as you scrambled to get on your hands and knees for him. And he’d slapped your ass once, twice, three times, and you knew he was mesmerised by how it jiggled.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” Ari murmurs, spanking you again like he can’t get enough. “Kept thinking of you like this while I was at work, bent over like a little whore in front of me.”

“Please put it in, Ari!”

“Patience, sweetheart.” He chuckles, running a hand up your spine and sending shivers all throughout your body. He presses his dick against your naked backside, and he feels so hot and pulsating. He’d torn your dress off the moment he’d entered the bedroom, and his own clothes had quickly followed suit. And now you were at the mercy of one big, horny, muscular, beefy man. A caveman, by the looks of how feral he was getting behind you. It’s like seeing your pregnant, naked body just flipped a switch in him, and his own patience was riding thin along with yours as he continues to rut against you.

With one quick thrust, Ari drives his huge dick inside you. You cry out in pain because he’s so big, and you’ll never get used to just how big he is. He’s more than twice the size of you and so incredibly well hung, and all you can do is brace yourself and take it, your whole body jerking forward from the force of his thrust. You’d have gone face first into the mattress had he not anticipated that and grabbed on to your hips tightly.

“Oh, fuck, baby, such a tight fucking hole you got. Daddy barely fits inside.” Ari’s fingers are clutching your hips so tightly, you know it’ll leave a bruise. And he’s rough from the get go, although you know he’s holding back because you’re pregnant. “God, fuck, sweetheart. You got such a good and tight fuckin’ snatch, so perfect for my dick, fuck!”

“H-Harder, daddy!” You cry, rutting back against him as your breasts bounce up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. But your request earns you a swift smack to your bum.

“Take it how daddy gives it to you, baby.” Ari sneers, the alpha male inside of him taking complete control as his hips increase their pace. It feels like he’s ripping your insides with his hard dick but you feel so goddamn full and so good that you don’t even care, even as he continuously rains slap after slap down on your ass. “God, fuck, such a good little baby wife. Obedient as shit, aren’t you? Daddy’s little baby, gonna give me a bunch of babies, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, gonna have your babies, daddy!” You agree, sounding delirious and very much like an airhead who’s only capable of repeating what her daddy is saying to her but he’s reduced you to this state through his sheer hard fucking and you don’t even care. You want it harder, want him slamming into you till you can’t catch your breath and you pass out. But you know he wouldn’t, you can tell by how he’s got one arm now wrapped protectively around your belly, as if he needs to keep it there to remind himself not to lose control like how he often does during sex.

You remember a couple of times when Ari had gone completely feral, fucking you like you were an animal. Relentless and unforgiving, leaving you with bruises and bumps as he’d had his way with you again and again. But the dark side of you had enjoyed being a cumdump for him, despite the fact that you’d cried from the pain and overwhelming pleasure. And Ari had taken you into his arms afterwards, telling you how sorry he was, how he’d be careful with you in the future, how he got too riled up and how he couldn’t help but take you roughly when he saw how sweet and innocent you looked. And then he’d always be so sweet with his aftercare, and run you a bath and dote on you and hug you till you fell asleep in his arms, smelling like rose scented bubble bath.

“Want me to knock you up again, sweetheart?” Ari asks you back in the present, fucking you so hard you’re seeing stars. His fat dick is hitting all the right spots inside you, making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting into you, hips going into jackhammer mode. “Because I will knock you up again, baby. Soon as you give me my boys, I’ll have you on your back and filled to the brim with my fucking cum so you get knocked up again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Wouldn’t you? Fuck!”

“YES, YES, YES!” You scream at the top of your lungs, the pressure building up inside you till that invisible coil snaps and you cum so hard, you’re seeing stars. You collapse underneath Ari, and he has to hold you up as he continues to fuck you. But him describing how he’s going to knock you up again was enough for you to squirt all over his dick, your slippery walls squeezing his hard, fat cock that doesn’t stop its relentless assault inside you.

“Fuck yeah, baby, squeeze my fuckin’ dick!” Ari groans, using your limp body as a literal hole for his dick as he grabs your hips and makes you shake your ass on his dick, “Fuck yeah, baby couldn’t help but cum from the thought of getting knocked up by daddy, huh? Well, you gotta give me another one, honey. One orgasm isn’t enough for my baby girl.”

He pulls you up to your knees so your back is against his chest. And your body is completely limp and void of energy since orgasming had taken everything out of you, and you’re not even sure you can cum again like how he wants you to. But your beefy husband holds you up against him nevertheless, one big hand wrapping around your throat while the other cups your heavy breast and squeezes, and this whole time his hips don’t stop moving inside you. His fat dick driving in and out of you at different, varied paces. Slow so you can feel every ridge and vein, and then fast till his hips are a blur and you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You best fucking believe I’m always going to keep you pregnant from now on.” Ari growls in your ear, squeezing your tits together as he paws at you like a feral caveman, his fingers pressing against your throat and cutting off your air supply just enough for your vision to blur and it all feels so deliciously good and you’re long past the point of even being coherent as you wail and scream for him.

You can feel him losing himself, getting rougher and rougher. You know your husband too well, you know he’s turning himself on more and more at the idea of impregnating you again. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands squeeze your breasts so hard it hurts, and you feel your milk dribble down your nipples.

Ari sees it too, and you swear you can feel his dick get even harder inside you. In a nanosecond, he’s manhandled you into a different position. Now, he’s sitting on the bed with you on top of him, and he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick. And oh my fucking God, it’s so much deeper this way! You can feel your puffy clit grind against his trimmed pubic hairs as he does all the work, his muscular arms wrapping around you, not caring at all that your pregnant belly is in the way as he continues to fuck up into you.

“Can’t let your mommy milk go to waste, can we?” Ari grins, grabbing your tit and latching his mouth on it immediately, sucking down so hard that you see stars. He lets go with a pop, “Guess I didn’t get all of it, huh, baby?”

You hold his head in place, carding your fingers through his brown waves as he continues to drink your milk like a ravenous beast, like he can’t get enough of it. Switching from one nipple to the other, giving both your breasts equal attention as he drains the milk from them.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re breastfeeding daddy, baby.” Ari tells you, his voice muffled as he keeps his face buried in your breasts. And all the while he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick, and you can feel your second orgasm start to build up – and he hasn’t even cum once yet! You wonder how he remains so calm, so casual enough to have a conversation with you during sex. Meanwhile you’re a dishevelled mess on top of him, head lolling to the side as you’ve already gone dumb from all his ministrations.

“God, fuck, gonna keep you pregnant at all times now, sweetheart.” Ari declares, getting feral again as his hand splays out on your belly. “I want at least five more kids, baby. You gonna give daddy five more babies?”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I will!”

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. A good fucking baby wife. I’m so glad I found you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you, pulling you by the hair till you’re flush against him, his hips fucking up into you at a blurring pace that makes you feel like he’ll rip you in half any second now.

“And all the other guys will be so fucking jealous that they don’t have a cute little knocked up baby wife who does whatever they ask. Fuck! Tell me you’re my cute little baby wife!” He pinches your nipple harshly before going back to your belly, rubbing it with his huge hand as he clutches you so close on top of him.

“ ‘m your cute little b-baby wife!” You moan, finally finding the energy to desperately ride him, up and down and backwards and forwards, grinding against the thick steel rod that is his dick as it jams up your poor, abused fuckhole.

“Damn right you are. And I’m your daddy who knocked you the fuck up. And I’ll do it again and again, because you’re my fucking property and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you! You got that? Fuck!”

“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah, daddy, you own me! Wanna have more of your babies! Want you to keep me pregnant all the time!” You blabber incoherently.

“And you’re gonna obey me, and be a good little mommy to all our children, aren’t you?” He smacks your ass hard, once, twice, three times till your ass is sure to be raw and all the while you nod and agree with him, “A good little mommy who does what she’s told to do, and spreads her legs every time daddy wants to knock her up again, you got that?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can’t wait to come home to you taking care of our little ones. Five of ‘em, with another one on the way. Fuck, can’t fuckin’ wait for that.” Ari grunts, his thrusts growing deeper and hitting your spot so deliciously and making you mewl, as well as his words and promises of keeping you pregnant which have you turned on beyond belief.

The pressure in your lower belly builds up higher and higher, more intense till you almost can’t stand it. And it feels so deliciously good, your pleasure mounting higher and higher as Ari continues to fuck you throw it all, holding you close and coaxing you, telling you to cum again for daddy, giving you permission to let go and cover his fat dick in your cream. And you obey, and you cum so hard, marvelling at how much of it squirts out of you.

Like a broken faucet, squirt after squirt of your cum covers his cock, and you sob and clutch at Ari’s hairy chest, burying your face in his hard chest as you cum so hard you almost faint. “Oh daddy, daddy, daddy!” you whimper like a broken record, like a baby who’s collapsed and needs to be held by her big, strong daddy.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, stroking your hair like you’re his good little girl and the pride in his voice makes you sag with relief and euphoria, and his thrusts grow sloppy as he continues to ride you through your orgasm. His fat balls slapping against your pussy, and you know his load will be big because he’s held off so long.

“Fuck, baby.” Ari lets out a guttural groan before he cums, emptying himself inside of you as spurt after spurt of his hot cum sears you from the inside out. Brands you as his as your greedy pussy squelches and swallows his seed like it’s your job. And Ari looks so proud, holding you so close to him till it hurts, like he doesn’t want a single drop of his cum wasted as he fills you up like you’re his personal cumdump. “God-fucking-dammit, your greedy little snatch is squeezing me so good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I ever had, taking all my daddy cum like a good little girl. Fuck, take it, take all of it!”

And you do, taking every drop of his thick ropes of cum till you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his heavy load as you fall down, completely spent and breathing hard, on your back on the bed.

You’re completely sapped of all energy, and again you marvel at how Ari seems perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t just emptied the world’s biggest load inside of you after a long session of unbridled, hot, rough sex. But your husband seems more interested in your body in its post orgasmic glow, rubbing you all over as you rest from the fucking you’ve just received, marvelling at his cum as it drips out of your pussy.

“Looks like your baby pussy couldn’t keep it all in, honey.” Ari swipes a finger up your slit and it comes up covered in his cum. Your mouth drops open in the shape of an o, which works out in your husband’s favour as he feeds you the thick cum. Globs of it, again and again, swiping up from your pussy before he brings his finger to your lips and allows you to suckle it off him. And it’s all you can do in your weakened, post-fucked state, suckle his fingers like a baby as your daddy feeds you his cum.

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You murmur weakly, not forgetting your manners as Ari smiles down at you smugly. Finally tearing his gaze away from your body, he lies down next to you and gathers you into his arms for a cuddle. Kissing the top of your head and all over your face as he holds you close to him, till you can feel his heartbeat in sync with your own.

“You’re welcome, baby. I love you so much.” Ari answers, looking like the happiest man in the world. And it’s such a powerful feeling, knowing it’s you who has made him feel this way.

“Love you too, daddy.” You say tiredly, cuddling close and burying your face into his hairy chest as you breathe in his intoxicating post-sex musk. “Can’t wait to give you more babies. Can’t wait for our boys to come. I’ll be the best mommy to your babies, I promise.”

Ari chuckles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he gazes at you with eyes filled with adoration. His hand goes down to cup your belly, and he squeezes you so close to him, you feel you might suffocate. But in the best way.

“I know you will, baby. I know you’ll take care of my children, but right now I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

He runs you a strawberry scented bubble bath, carrying you to the bathroom and getting into the tub with you. Gently scrubbing you clean and massaging your sore muscles and sensitive skin while you lie on top of him in the bath, content and barely conscious from the incredible session of fucking you’ve just received. Smiling faintly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, promising you the world and more, his words painting the perfect life which lays in store for you in the future, as well as the perfect life you’re currently living now – all because of him.

THE END! This is my ultimate fantasy and i have no clue why i never wrote it before now! pLEASE PELASE let me know what you think! thank you very very much! love you all!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #dark ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #steve rogers x reader

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needle-noggins · 1 year ago

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(CW for SA, suicidal ideation) Here we go. My favorite and simultaneously least favorite panel of Vash and Knives.

I've seen a few interpretations of this scene and before we dive into the one that really struck me, let's start with the more... chill one. We're finally introduced to the third gun of Trigun, Vash's angel arm. And the way we're introduced to it involves Knives forcing him to pull the trigger. Of course, since no one knows anything about Knives, the people of Noman's Land blame Vash for Fifth Moon, and Vash likewise blames himself (this is kinda a spoiler but if you've been paying attention, it's just par for the course). However, he's not the one who pulled the trigger, Knives is. It brings up an interesting moral question of blame - do we blame the gun (and Vash, who is being used/objectified as a weapon here), or the person who wanted it to happen? Guns don't kill people, genocidal twins do!

Now for the awful interpretation, the one that makes me cry and wish Vash was real so I could hug him and pay for his therapy. And really highlights how awful Knives is and how far he'd go for his brother in his own, fucked-up way. I touched on this in a previous post about Legato and the Murder Cafe, and the whole time I was thinking about Fifth Moon but didn't want to say anything for the sake of spoilers.

So. Pay attention to the way Vash and Knives are standing. Knives, when he first grabbed Vash's head, was standing in front of him. He moves behind him to better control him and yeah, he's still controlling him via hand on head, and now he's got his other hand gripping Vash's chest, where feathers/wings are manifesting. Knives is assaulting him. If you wanna get crazy with it and say that the angel arm is kinda phallic, you could say... yeah. This is rape. I heard that specific interpretation once and while I accepted it I also don't know if that would be generally accepted or if I'd be called out for it, so I'm trying to tread lightly here.

It also doesn't escape me that of course the angel arm has feminine features like the plants - the plants that, again, humans are exploiting for their ability to create. There's a lot of feminist commentary to be made here but many people have said it better than me. Specifically I'm thinking of this one post I saw about gender fuckery and Tristamp Vash. Anyway.

Also, the atomic bomb/black hole/sun/whatever that is in the middle... It's just so powerful. It's terrifying. The eldritch body horror here is a punch to the gut. What the fuck, Trigun? I thought this was a funky space western!!!

Oh, and here's more commentary on the following few panels:

Vashussy shot, Knives is still right behind him. Yeah, I wasn't kidding about how bad this pose is for them. Knives, you sick fuck.

Vash shoots himself in the leg (a key difference from '98 trigun, lol), because of course he does, but it doesn't free him from the arm.

The arm's getting darker/the light inside is getting lighter! Stampede did an awesome job with their interpretation of the angel arm and I don't think I would have understood it without that. Also, on my first read I didn't notice that Vash is literally levitating, which is cool, but also terrifying because ?? he's not in control of that either??

Finally. A super painful, minimalist, double-page spread. Nightow loves 'em. Vash thinks he's dying (maybe?) and he wishes he had never existed. It's not suicidal ideation per se, but he wishes he didn't exist at all because he's already caused enough suffering. This is a low for him, because he believes so strongly in the concept of the Blank Ticket. (Come on, soupy brain bitch boy, get it together!) He's a monster, it's just how he was born, and he's not in control. Very specifically too, he says "we", and then changes it to "I"... he doesn't blame Knives at all, and that's very him. I want to shake him! Stop playing the martyr, Vash!

#trimax #trigunbookclub #cw assault #cw sa #ive never tagged content warnings before please help if i didnt do it well enough #cw sui ideation #vash the stampede #millions knives #also this is ENTIRELY SEPARATE from kv/plantcest shipping. do not discuss that here. this is not about shipping.#posting this makes me so nervous ngl #dont hate me

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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months ago

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🏆 Sei a Casa, Charles

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Light smut Summary: Monaco finally loved him back. Charles is home.

*my long awaited Charles Monaco win imagine! it is completed after my computer was finally fixed and after 30+ hours of having no power at my house. it's been a rough couple of days, but I'm still reeling in the moment that Charles won his home race.

*A big thank you goes to @pucksandpower for helping me with the smut parts. you all know that I can't write anything beyond a small make out sesh. you all will know what parts she wrote! but look for this ✨ if you want to skip it!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You couldn’t pick out the exact moment of when you started to cry.

Was it lap 1? Lap 20? Lap 76? Maybe tears finally started to leak from your eyes as you stood under the podium, waiting for the love of your life to finally appear? Or were the tears drops of champagne that flowed from his winner’s bottle?

You didn’t know, but you knew that the pride in your heart could not be contained internally. It had to escape somewhere, so it formed itself into tears that were shed as you watched the whole vast of Monaco finally love Charles back.

You remembered the past times you cried as you stood below.

Tears from him, from you, and from the both of you stained the past asphalt here in the principality. Disappointment after disappointment would forever be written in the streets of Monte Carlos. However, today was the rain that would wash everything away.

Today was the day the sun finally shone once again.

But the sun would not dry the tears of pride from your face, you wouldn’t let it. The testament of your love and pride could make divots in your face for the rest of time, and you’d never want to fill them.

The applause around you grew as Carlos walked out, waving below. You could guess that the Spaniard knew that these people weren’t for him. They weren’t for anyone other than the green-eyed man in red.

More applause sounded as the green and yellow suit of Oscar stood out against the red of everything else. Your partially adopted son for the weekend caught your eye and gave you a sad smile. You could only shake your head, hoping to relay that these tears were finally not for a broken heart.

The moment the applause grew to screams, yells, and everything in between, you knew what it meant. In this moment, everything stood still in the chaos. Flags of red, yellow, red and white flew around your face. Joris stood behind you, hand on the small of your back to keep you steady.

But like you, his tears didn’t stop: they multiplied.

Finally, you had the courage to look up and gaze upon the subject of praise that would ring for all of eternity. You couldn’t help but join in, making a small dent in history for yourself.

Pride seemed to double, tripling the number of tears that fell. You knew a camera was focused on you, but nothing could take your eyes away from him on the step, flag in his trembling hands. You were almost silently saying, “Turn the camera on the man who has rewritten his and the country’s history.”

You watched as your prince wrapped his arms around his most precious gift. No one had been able to do what he did. A national treasure for the rest of time.

You witnessed your princess hug him dearly. His hands still trembled as he clutched his red and white flag. If it made him feel any better, you were trembling too, along with the hosts of Monaco. The people trembled in their spots, the flags swished back and forth. Hell, the boats in the port still roared for him, almost thirty minutes after he had crossed that beloved finish line.

When he finally turned to face the crowd below, your world went silent as your focus pinpointed on Charles.

History’s Charles. Monaco’s Charles. Formula One’s Charles.

Your Charles.

A laugh finally bullied its way through your tears as you saw him accidentally drop the flag and scramble to pick it up. Joris had started to rub your back, knowing that you needed some comfort. Where Joris was, there you were too.

The two of you liked to claim both spots of Charles’s right and left sides. Deemed the best WAGs by fans everywhere, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere but next to the boys. He had had a chance to race down to see your race winner before he had to go to the cooldown room. You had wanted to run with him, an invisible force wanted to drag you along. But you had stayed, to comfort and hug the people around you.

Where Joris was on your left, Arthur was on your right. He looked so much like his brother. The boy, who you had watched grow through his own disappointments and sorrows, also had his tears.

Today, however, every tear shed was the opposite of sorrows. They weren’t of heavy hearts or disappointments.

Every tear shed was pride incarnate.

The podium ended with Charles almost being drowned by his teammate and “adopted son.” How you wished you could be up there with him. You knew, though, that you’d have your time with him soon.

When you were allowed to leave, Charles’s driver room was the first place you’d go. In the back of your mind, you knew that he’d still be a while, the media taking up his time. And after was the principality dinner, and then probably Jimmyz with however many people you could fit in the club.

But then, after the whole of Monaco had a piece of him, he’d be yours.

The door opening caught your attention as you looked up from your phone. Many say that second- or third-place-Charles still had a smile, but it wasn’t a true one. Today was a testament to that stamen as he walked in with the biggest smile on his face.

If he could shine, he’d rival the sun.

A sigh escaped Charles’s lips when he saw you sitting on his couch after he was done with media. He could see that your mascara had slightly run, the only clues that you had cried.

“Mon ange,” he said as he dove into your awaiting arms. He felt damp under your hands, a mix of champagne and port water. You were ready for him to drop on you, and you welcomed the familiar weight.

“My race winner,” you whispered, pressing a long kiss to his hairline. Charles had none of that as he leaned up to press his lips against yours, wanting a true feeling of you next to him. He could die happily now if he needed to.

Your hands wrapped themselves in his hair, lightly tugging him back so that you could breathe. A low whine escaped him, making you lean your head back in laughter: his favorite sound of all.

“We have to get going,” you gently reminded him, already in the process of standing up. “And you need to shower. You stink.”

When you looked back down, Charles was definitely trying the puppy eyes on you, a pout joining on his lips. You shook your head.

“None of that, Char. You know that only Leo can pull off the eyes.”

Grumbles responded as he begrudgingly pulled himself off the couch. You knew that you only had a certain amount of time before people came looking for Charles. At that moment, you wanted to whisk him away, keep him from anyone for the rest of the night. However, your moments together wouldn’t happen until either late into the night or early in the morning.

You could wait, he’s waited long enough for this.

As the two of you quickly got ready after Charles biked home, which you thought was ridiculous, you enjoyed the quiet of your home. He seemed a bit on the quiet side, but you thought that he might be saving his energy for what was to come. You had picked out a very nice black dress that hugged your figure in just the right areas.

When you walked into the living area, Charles’s back was to you, his hand patting his pocket. You cleared your voice, making him turn around.

Charles’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. He stalked over and placed his hands on your hips, bringing you flush against him.

“I think I must have died for an angel is before me.”

You scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly.

“I must have done something good in my past life to have my own prince,” you said, hands joining together at his nape. Charles, aware of the time, led you over to the door, opening it for you. Below, his Ferrari Competizione waited to take you to the dinner.

Charles didn’t know what he was expecting when he got there, but a standing ovation wasn’t one of them. You had to hold back more tears, as you didn’t want your makeup to be ruined. You stood with the halls of Monaco to honor Charles for his moment.

Pascale, Arthur, and Joris watched you as you kept clapping with the others. The three knew that you loved Charles probably more than you loved anything else in life. You two had been together for five years, going through the ups and downs together. It was hard, but your love strengthened with every hurdle.

When Charles got to sit back down as they started on the first course, you leaned over.

“So, are you going to be knighted or something now?”

Your question made him snort as he wiped his hands on his pants. It was probably nerves. He licked his lips, eyes flittering at the three who were watching on with hopeful eyes. In his mind, he knew that Antoine was waiting behind at a different table.

“I was hoping to be titled something else?”

You cocked your head. “Oh? What were you thinking?”

He didn’t answer, but his head moved to look at something on the table. Your eyes followed his line of sight to a small black box sitting in front of your plate.

Oh.

You whipped your head back to Charles, who had a hopeful smile on his face. Your hands rose to cover your mouth.

“You’re being serious?” you questioned, voice hitching with excitement. The small nod of his head made you want to squeal, but you kept in inside. Charles knew that you were a bit on the shyer side and probably didn’t want him to get down on one knee, so he gently reached over to grab the box. He turned to you and popped it open.

He grabbed the bottom of your chair and slid it next to him so that your shoulders were touching. He looked over, and it was his turn to have tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Mon coeur. Mon amour. Mon soleil. Mon vie. You are the best thing that I have in this world, and after today I know that no race win could ever compare to you. Please let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.”

This time, you let the tears fall as you nodded your head. “Yes.”

Charles let out a sigh of relief as he took the ring from the box and slid it on your finger. Small claps came from the three at the table, as to not bring attention to the sweet and intimate moment. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips and rested your forehead against his.

“Only if you’ll let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.”

Charles lost his voice, too deep in emotion and happiness to answer. So, a simple nod would have to make due.

Arthur decided to make a statement. “You both are going to get so wasted tonight.”

The table erupted with laughter, because you knew he was correct. Charles deserved a party, and that’s what he was going to get.

You at least had the smart thought process to keep your ring at the bottom of your purse that you carried in the club. Your hand clutched the handle, not letting anyone get near it in fear of having it be ripped out of your hand.

Pierre was one of the first to congratulate you and Charles. The Frenchman held the two of you in his arms as he whispered congratulations. He wasn’t the only driver that knew of Charles’s plan.

You smiled as your eyes caught Charles with the Monaco flag over his head. You had to pause your conversation with Max, jutting your head in the Monegasque’s direction.

“I better go get him.”

Max wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t want him to get into an inchident would we?”

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his as you walked in Charles’s direction. If you thought your boyfriend’s eyes were wide before, they found even more room to widen when he made eye contact with you.

Charles raised his arms up. “Mon ange! Everyone, it’s my fiancé! I’m getting married!”

You wanted to wince as you prayed that everyone either was too drunk to comprehend his screeching or that they couldn’t hear him over the sound of the bass.

You grabbed his arm and brought him closer. “I think it’s time to go home.”

He nodded immediately. “Oui, oui. We need to go make beuacoup de bebes!”

You flushed red under the lights of the club as Charles now dragged you along, Monegasque flag still over his head. Now you were really hoping that no one heard. You knew that he was joking though. However, when you got home, he might have been serious.

The bass of the club still rang in your ears as you stumbled through the door of your apartment, lips locked with Charles in a passionate kiss. He fumbles blindly for the light switch, finally bathing the entryway in a soft glow as you pull apart breathlessly.

“Mon belle,” Charles murmurs huskily, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His eyes are shining with a mix of exhilaration and adoration. “My amazing fiancé. The true winner today.”

You let out a breathless giggle, feeling giddy and invincible in the wake of his historic Monaco win. “I just stood on the sidelines and cheered. You’re the one who drove like a demon out there.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says fervently, capturing your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands roam hungrily over the curve of your waist, the soft swell of your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the rumble of his groan against your mouth as your fingers tangle in his sweat-dampened curls.

“Bedroom,” you whimpered between heated kisses, already tugging at the buttons of his button up. “Now.”

✨

Charles needed no further encouragement, sweeping you up into his arms in one fluid motion. You let out a squeal of surprise that quickly morphs into breathless laughter as he carries you down the hallway. Kicking open the bedroom door, he deposits you onto the luxuriously soft mattress before stretching out beside you, propped up on one elbow.

“You are so beautiful, mon chérie,” he husks, trailing a line of scorching kisses along your jawline. “My perfect girl.”

“And you’re an overachiever,” you tease, smoothing the crinkles from his furrowed brow with gentle fingers. “Winning your home race. Proposing at the principality dinner. What more could a you ever want?”

Charles let out a low chuckle, capturing your wandering hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Just you. It’s always you.”

You felt your cheeks warming at his words, the sheer intensity of his forest-eyed gaze. Even after all this time, he still had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world. Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, you pull him down for a long, smoldering kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips between heated caresses. “My champion. Mon fiancé.”

He lets out a low groan, deepening the kiss until you’re both dizzily breathless and straining against each other with a rising tide of desire. His clever fingers are already making quick work of the buttons on your dress, pushing the satiny fabric off your shoulders in one smooth motion.

You arch against him with a soft moan as his lips blaze a path over your collarbones, dancing lower to the hollow of your throat. Every brush of his mouth against your tingling skin has heat unfurling low in your belly.

“Off,” you demand impatiently, tugging at the stubborn zipper of his pants until he finally kicks off the sweat-dampened fabric. His skin is feverishly hot to the touch, the lean muscles of his back rippling under your stroking palms as he settles over you.

Another breathless giggle escapes your lips as he nuzzles along the sensitive curve of your neck, whispering a stream of endearments. “You are insatiable.”

“Only for you, mon coeur,” he rumbles, amusement dancing in the depths of those enchanting eyes as he props himself up on his forearms to gaze down at you adoringly. “My everything. Ma vie.”

His mouth covers yours again in a long, drugging kiss that has your toes curling against the soft sheets. You lose yourself in the velvet glide of his tongue, the addictive taste of him, the delicious weight of his body pinning you to the mattress. Every nerve ending feels electrified by his scorching touch, every brush of skin against skin lighting up new sparks of longing.

When you finally break apart to catch your breath, Charles presses his forehead to yours with a contented sigh. “What did I do to deserve you, mon ange?”

Cradling his face in your hands, you meet his intense gaze steadily. “You won my love. Every single ounce of it.”

His smile is radiant, lighting up the room more brilliantly than a thousand racing spotlights as he leans in to capture your lips again. This time the kiss is softer, more tender — a communion between two souls completely lost in each other. He let his hand trail up your forearm and settled in in your palm.

Your ring, that you had put back on in the car, felt cold against his fingers. He shivered at the feeling. You were his for the rest of his life.

You and he lost all track of time in that blissful tangle of limbs, trading fevered caresses and breathless whispers of adoration. When climax was finally reached between the two of you, you let yourself bask in the pants coming from yours and his lips.

Charles watched as you slightly winced as he pulled out, gently comforting you with sweet words. He quickly got up to grab a towel from the bathroom, wetting it with some water before going back to bed. Charles let his eyes gaze over your form, still coming down from the high.

When he didn’t make any moves to get closer, you turned your head and sleepily smiled at him, arms reaching out. It was only then that Charles walked back over to the bed. He quickly wiped you down, and then himself before grabbing the duvet at the edge of the bed.

You hummed lazily when the fluffy blanket was draped over your body. You scooted over and laid your head on his chest.

“Welcome home, Charles. You’re finally home. Je t’aime.”

Home, to him, would never be a place anymore. Because why would he need a place, when he could hold his home, his world, right in his arms.

charles_leclerc has posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, charliexy/n, and 3,644,920 others

charles_leclerc BEST DAY EVER ❤️❤️❤️ thank you for everything, I love you all ❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍

see more comments

f1crusade congrats! for everything, brilliant drive

charliexy/n CHARLES DID YOU TRY TO SNEAK IN AN ENGAGEMENT???

oscarpiastri congrats mom and dad! ❤️

y/n_l/n thank you son!

olliebearman KISS ASS I SAID I WANTED TO SAY IT FIRST

liamlawson NUH UH IT WAS ME

charles_leclerc it was actually none of you

logansargeant it was actually me ☺️

f1 ferrari champagne at the wedding on us!

y/nismother SHE'S GONNA BE Y/N LECLERC NOW I'M NOT READY

arthur_leclerc so, so proud of you ❤️ Jules and papa would be so proud

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

y/nleclerc I knew it!! I will never change my username EVER

scuderiaferrari that's our boy 🇲🇨☀️

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hai7ani · 23 days ago

Text

Stay / Haitani Rindou

Power Trip / Cry Me a River

cw canon-typical violence, suggestive, ran plays a huge role, abandonment, grief, death / Sequel

Things haven't been the same since South died.

He doesn't tell you much, so you don't really know things, but you're not an idiot.

You know of the late nights he's been spending out with his brother lately. When you ask, they simply tell you they've got a party going on at the usual place with the usual group of people, down the street.

When you ask.

Before leaving for the night he'd double check the locks and make Ran tell the lady next door to call him if she sees anything suspicious happening around the block or outside the unit.

"Stay home, be safe, alright?" Ran would tell you after giving you and his brother some space 一 for him to give you a kiss on the cheek as per his own habit, and for you to cling onto him a few minutes before they go as per your own 一 as always. And he'd ruffle your hair if they're down, or fix your braids a little if he'd tied it earlier for you, and then they'd leave. Together.

The extra precautions the brothers take on their home and you recently has been getting a little bit overwhelming. It's not that you don't understand why they do this 一 things aren't exactly safe for you as the girlfriend of a Haitani and is seen as a younger sister to the elder, who are both now heavily involved with dangerous people dubbed as a safety hazard to the general public.

Rindou has spent years outside of the gang curating ways with Ran to keep you safe and hidden away from the lingering, hungry eyes of their rivals and enemies who are constantly looking for ways to tear him and his brother down from their reputations 一 he is not going to risk putting you in danger, being used as a target as a means to get to the brothers, or being ambushed simply because you are yourself, a woman.

But as more time passes, with more and more late nights spent wandering alone in the Haitani household waiting for them to come home to you 一 or if they'd even come home at all 一 you've been starting to think there is something else going on.

You don't like that he's been making you feel this way.

Abandoned, left alone.

If he is cheating on you, even if it hurts 一 even if it might rip you apart into a million pieces 一 you think you want to know. Seeing for yourself who the other woman is, or who the other man is 一 you think it might give you some closure.

But he isn't cheating on you. You know he is not. He still comes home to you with that same, stupid smile on his face when he catches you on the PC fooling with some games or messing around with his unfinished mixes. He still brings home your favourite Chinese takeout with extra spring onions from the family-owned restaurant down the street.

He is still your Rindou when he comes home. He hugs you to sleep and he hugs you when you wake up. He kisses you in front of Ran despite the embarrassment you know he hates facing because Ran is a huge tease 一 he is relentless with the jokes 一 but he still does it anyway simply because he doesn't think loving you is something to hide in front of him, his brother, and a person you have both always looked up to in life 一 a boy who have always been protecting the two of you, pushing you both forward in life with arms behind your backs and a smile on his face.

You think he has been abandoning you lately 一 yeah, that's what it is. He makes you feel like he is going to leave sometime soon, again, and you don't fancy it at all.

You don't ever want him to leave again.

...

The year 2000 was the very first time.

Eight years ago, just downstairs of your own apartment a few blocks away from theirs, you had to watch with a broken heart filled with so much guilt and shame pouring out of the cracks, as the brothers get arrested for something that wasn't even their fault.

Eight years ago you had bumped into a man. A very tall man donning a very intimidating uniform, with equally intimidating men standing behind him as they stared you down and one of them had flipped away the ice cream cone in your hands down to the concrete floor. You remember staring at the vanilla slowly dripping down and staining his grey uniform with so much fear settling in your bones, and they'd spent the evening picking at your hair, your skirt, your backpack.

You and Rindou had gotten into a fight that afternoon. He'd refused to walk you home despite his brother's disagreement, and watched you stomp away in near tears because you didn't like that he kept boasting about his Math paper which scored a little higher than yours. The boy had been waiting for you downstairs at your apartment, eager to say sorry with a bowl of soba in his hands that he'd bought and carried all the way from the stall just right around the corner, and when he noticed he has been waiting for almost 2 hours and you still weren't home despite school having ended hours ago, he panicked.

And then everything after happened in a flash. One minute ago the man was saying something along the lines of, "While we're at it, shall we have some more fun as well?" And at the next, your childhood best friend was right on top of him, bashing his skull in, again and again and again. "Say it again, you bastard!" He yelled. Ran was trying to hold him back, but Rindou was far stronger than Ran at that time despite being a year younger and shorter than him.

You remember it being the day the Haitani Brothers had been the new group to take over Roppongi, your home, and chose to cover the entire story up as a way to keep you hidden 一 as a way to protect you, so that you won't have anything to do with the death, and you won't have to deal with the cops (they have experience watching their parents, who were once corrupted millionaires).

They were arrested the next day. During their court ruling, Ran had received a longer sentence than Rindou for being the one to beat the victim to death, with Rindou named as an accomplice for holding the victim down as the incident occurred. No witnesses were quoted, and all CCTV footages of the scene were destroyed.

And then they left for 2 years, spending their time in a juvenile centre in a city far away from Roppongi. You'd travel hours a week just to see them, and you'd cry and tell them how sorry you are and how you should've been the one to talk to the cops 一 that way, it might've at least been considered as self-defence. It had been your fault anyway, if you were actually using your eyes for once and watched where you were going, you never would've bumped into him. None of this would've ever happened then.

You had spent two years alone, sometimes staying the night at their home with their family maid and their grandmother accompanying you while you sleep in his bed and cry. You have spent two years blaming yourself for what had happened. You have spent two years of your early teenage life resenting them for leaving you, for doing all of this without even considering your feelings the entire process.

The year 2005 was the second time, when Yokohama Bay had become your new spot to avoid.

The news came to you late, as you were supposed to stay home and wait for their return to Tokyo 一 as per Ran's demand. "Stay home, be safe." The same memo as he'd always say, but no longer a request this time.

Three hours after they had left a friend of theirs came knocking on your door. He was one of the very few people Rindou allowed to know who you were, simply because he still needed his own extra pair of eyes whenever he and Ran are out doing business with Izana.

And then it happened again 一 police at the scene, a pair of unconscious bodies lying on the floor covered with a huge, white cloth, and your childhood best friends tied in handcuffs with blood and bruises all over their face.

You remember having the rest of the Tenjiku members who were also arrested at the scene (the ones who chose to stay back, for Izana) watch a girl around their age slowly approach the yellow tape, crying, as she struggled against the police. "Nii-chan? What is going on?"

Ran had never felt so guilty before.

And you remember staring at your boyfriend who you have just started being intimate with a few months ago with so much pain and trauma in your eyes. Last night he'd promised in your ear he'll come home to you safe and sound.

He'll get this one done and then he'll come home. He said it himself 一 there's a Coldplay concert happening this weekend, he'd be a dead man if he were to miss it.

...

He doesn't come home for six months. You ripped and threw your tickets into the bin. You trashed Ran's room out of anger and quickly fixed things back when you realised what you've done.

Their original sentence was to be eight, but with good behaviour and great contributions to the rehabilitation centre, it was then reduced to six.

Your relationship had been in a standstill then. You don't visit the entire time they were held in the centre. He wrote to you on the second month and sent you origami flowers (which were approved by the guards) and a long ruler with a black Sharpie mark on 6 that only you would understand, with Ran adding his own note at the bottom of the letter, telling you to look for Aoyagi if you are ever in danger, or simply needed some form of help.

"Stay home, be safe." He added.

What a hypocrite.

Rindou abandoned you for the second time. Nii-chan broke his promise again.

Six months later, after their release, they come home to their apartment decorated in things they never would've bought. Crocheted pillow cases on their couch, a new IKEA makeup table randomly sitting in Rindou's room (next to his PC table), wet bras and panties hanging on a line in his own bath, and your laundry either neatly folded on the couch or simply thrown all over the house.

You appear from the pantry in just a bra and lounging shorts with a mouth full of popcorn and rollers still in your hair when you hear the commotion.

They swiftly realised then that you have fully moved yourself in here while they were away. "Made yourself real comfortable, huh?" Ran had joked, and you threw him a pillow landed right at his face. (He had a nosebleed that didn't stop for a good fifteen minutes.)

"I can't trust you guys not to leave anymore." You had said to them sternly, back faced as you were putting on one of Rindou's old band tees fresh from the wash, with Ran facing the wall out of respect (it was one of the very few times you had caught him off-guard, yet you truly do not give a fuck) and Rindou kneeling behind you on the floor, in seiza, with his head hung low.

"So, I'll keep watch on you two myself. You're not going out without telling me where, when, with who, doing what."

Your method worked pretty well for two stubborn people who you see as family, coming from a girl they never really take seriously just because you are so close to each other. It lasted about a few months, with Rindou always updating you on where he went (he did it all willingly, really), like the DJ gigs at the club or going to the gym for the Judo and Muay Thai classes he'd signed up for, and Ran never going out ever since, all to sleep like a dead person in his room.

And then there came a man named South.

He had pretty great plans for a man new to the gangster scene in Japan. Rindou had told you all about it 一 he'd swore (willingly) not to hide anything from you after that. You remember how he'd boast about surely winning the upcoming fight against Kantou Manji and Brahman because he's been real pumped lately 一 the Judo and Muay Thai classes he's been attending consistently came in real handy this time 一 and you'd smack his cheek as a warning to not fool around with these people any further because they mean serious business now.

...

South had died in the battle, as a result of his loss from the Battle of the Three Deities. Naturally, this also means that the brothers are now under the control of another man again.

Mikey is his name. You saw him once, 3 years ago in Yokohama when you were riding on the bike of Aoyagi on the way to see Ran and Rindou at the scene. Mikey had been taking the initiative and signalling for his injured men and Tenjiku's on where to go and what to do.

He has always been a leader in your eyes since then, despite the small resentment you held for him for whatever that happened. So to hear from Ran about the current Mikey and his plans for the future as soon as Rokuhara Tandai and Brahman had been absorbed into Kantou Manji, you didn't think you would be able to digest it so soon.

And of course, Rindou went away again. But this time, he told you about it before he left.

"Baby, thank you for telling me." You remember feeling so relieved to hear when he kissed and informed you of the news, choosing to let him go on his own and helping him pack for a few days and nights away from home.

He sent you a picture of the sea two days later. Then, a white car with wings and huge exhaust pipes you don't know the name of, followed by a photo of himself with the beautiful sun setting behind him.

"I got a grandmother to take it for me. She reminded me of Baa-chan (as in his own grandmother who raised all three of you together). I think I want to name my new song after her. Her name is Minori, from Zushi. Like me, she came to Kamakura for the sea. It's still beautiful here like before. I'll bring you one day, Mom and Dad would love to see you again." He wrote, before going offline soon after.

You knew then that Rindou had gone back to Kamakura 一 the place that his parents were born in, and the place that they were buried in.

"Did you have fun?" You remember kissing him welcome-home a week later. He's a little tanned from the sun of July, probably spending most of his time back there catching the waves with the new friends he's told you about, and you think you love him even more when he grabs your nape and pulls you close, closer.

You like that he is smiley now. More talkative, more responsive.

"Yeah. I got you these." And he helps you put on a pair of pearl earrings he'd gotten as a gift from an elderly couple who were on the last days of their lives, spending their time at home watching the sea in Kamakura.

You've not once taken off the earrings since that day, and he, too, hasn't spoken much to you about what happened. Whatever that has happened. You don't know what's going on in his head 一 how he's dealing with the recent death of a friend and how he is handling the new changes to his life, or if there's a specific reason he'd gone back to visit his parents' graves.

(Rindou is now a member of Kantou Manji and he truly thinks that Mikey is insane 一 Sanzu even more. He doesn't know how the others are able to stand being in the same room with him for more than a second. He genuinely hates Hanma as well. Somehow the guy had caught wind on his little girlfriend (you showing up to the scene 3 years ago and was caught by local blabber mouth Shion) and wouldn't stop annoying him about it. He has thought of killing that man right then and there with a stick up his ass to stop the news from spreading, but that would mean he'd have to go to jail again, and he doesn't want to do that again.

Ran has gotten himself a new girlfriend too 一 the fourth one over the course of the three months he'd finally started dating girls 一 that he frequently brings over to the house and fucks like it's their last day living. He thinks this is his least favourite one. He doesn't really like her as she enjoys talking down to especially you simply because she is five years and four older than the three of you.

"Who the fuck does this hag think she is? Watch me kick her out, babe. And if Ran tells me off I'll kick him first and then I'll kick him out.")

...

You fear he is falling in despair.

He's constantly staring into space. Sometimes he'd stare out the window at night overlooking Roppongi with the Tokyo Tower in the back while munching on some yoghurt mix you'd made for him as a snack, and you'd watch together with him in silence 一 behind him so he doesn't know you're there. You don't want him to be alone like you have all those years ago.

The first time, he left for two years. Then, he left for six months. He'd only came back from Kamakura just three weeks ago, on a week away from the city (the violence).

Is Mikey going to take him away from you too?

Would he leave forever now that he is involved with the man and his gang?

...

You think he is going to again.

He's been not-so-discreetly packing his clothes while he thinks you're asleep and hiding the duffle bag in the storage room.

"Rindou, don't go." You finally say it to him tonight. He is busy wiping you down so he didn't really hear you that well. He hums, "what's that?"

"Don't go. Don't leave me." You start crying out of the blue. "You always leave me. When will you stop doing that? Don't you love me? You wouldn't keep leaving if you did."

"Babe-"

"We were kids when you left. You promised to take me to the theatre and watch theatre Barbie for Christmas and then you go away with the police. We were teenagers when you left the second time. You wanted to bring me to see Coldplay sing that weekend but you went away and I had to spend all of our birthdays alone in this room. Are you going to leave again when we're adults? Aren't you gonna marry me, huh? Are you going to leave me for Mikey or are you going to make me a widow this time? Which one is it, Rindou? Tell me so I can prepare myself. You don't tell me things anymore. I don't know what's going on in your mind."

You go on like that for quite some time. You slap him once and hit him on the chest twice. You cuss him out three times 一 one for being such an asshole, two for fucking breaking your heart like it's all his and not your own anymore, three for he's such a jerk for making you wait all this while 一 and finally, finally, when you're about to cuss him out again the fourth time, he kisses you.

He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you.

"I'm sorry for wanting to leave. Again. Just thought you might be safer if I'm not around."

He realises all of your true feelings then 一 all the things you've kept bottled up in your little heart, all of it resting in your chest kept all to yourself, as you put up a strong front in front of them just to make him feel at peace again, because you don't want him to leave anymore. He tends to leave whenever he feels the urge to protect you, as if he is the biggest danger itself.

"I'm a strong girl, you know? Baa-chan always told me so. I don't need any protecting, so you don't have to leave anymore. Stay with me, Rin. Stay, don't go away again. I can't do this anymore. I don't want you to go." You beg.

"Okay. I won't go. I promise." He swipes your tears away with both palms and kisses your eyelids.

He thinks of Mikey's offer the entire time while he hushes you to sleep, pinky's interlocked just like when you were younger and was very afraid of the dark, and would make little Rindou hold your hand until you saw light again.

"Guess I'll die..." He turns to you then 一 naked, but so beautiful. Your neck is covered, littered with hickeys and his back stings from the scratches you'd left on his skin earlier, but he doesn't mind. He never minds. He loves it, actually. "I've talked it out with death. Mom, Dad, Izana, and South... This'll surely be the last one I'll go through. My own, and yours."

"We'll see the light soon, hopefully." He whispers in your ear. "We'll be free."

"Okay." You mumble sleepily, a tired smile stretching across your kiss-swollen lips. You don't really get what he's saying, but whatever. Your pinky's are intertwined, there's no way he'd ever leave again, right? He'd be breaking your code if he did.

...

Ran has been waiting for him for the past hour.

Despite his patience slowly running out, he doesn't find it in him to rush his brother, or to yell at him through the door 一 to hurry it up and get it moving like he usually would.

He gives him time. He understands that it is a big decision. He knows it's going to break your heart if Rindou had truly said yes to the offer.

He wonders what your reaction would be like if he did.

A honk from downstairs catches his attention and he realises it is time.

His eyes glances at the clock hanging off the wall 一 9am sharp on the clock. And then they move down to the photo frame hanging just below 一 the three of you at school in uniforms, a picture taken by a teacher Ran had absolutely hated, but you loved.

A black limousine, as mentioned before in the meeting, parked on the curb with double signals turned on.

A man exits the car and tucks something into the back pocket of his Levi's. He opens the door for another man. Mikey exits, stands, and stares at Ran through the window 一 a 20-something-floor distance between the two, but he knows right exactly where they live, and where exactly Ran is at.

It fears him.

And it fears him even more that Rindou is not awake.

That was a gun he was holding.

So he enters your room, watch the two of you get tangled under the sheets with drool all over your pillows, hair messy, and the alarm clock clearly 一 deliberately 一 not ringing.

He smiles. Ran thinks all the fear in him is gone.

"You've been brave, Stupid Rin." He says. "You don't have to be anymore."

"Nii-chan'll go alone this time." He fixes your blanket and squeezes Rindou's oily nose shut, watching as he struggled to breathe a little, but slept it off anyway. A quiet laugh escapes his lips and he sits by the bed.

"Be safe."

And he prepares to stand.

"What about 'stay home'?" You ask when he is halfway up from the bed.

He knew you had been awake the whole time anyway.

"Will you come home?"

Ran pinches your cheek.

"Nah." He braids a thin strand of your hair with quick work. "I won't call either."

"Be safe, bunny. Take care of Rindou."

You have always liked hopping around when you were younger. You think you'll go do it more often now. At the park, maybe 一 you'll go terrorise some 8 year-olds and steal their skipping ropes, and some chalk perhaps.

"Bye-bye, Nii-chan."

...

"I see you've made your choice. Great one, Ran."

"...You have me for life, Mikey. I'll kill for you. I'll die for you. My life is now yours," he pauses.

"In exchange for that..."

Mikey thinks he is afraid to say it.

I shall scare him further then.

"I did say I'll kill him and her both if he said no, didn't I? That I'd shoot them in the head and feed them to Shiba Taiju's sharks. They've been really hungry lately."

"Yes."

And?

"Mikey, I'm good. I can fight, I can stay loyal. I'm good with the business groove, I can work with Kokonoi and bring in the money. In exchange for that, for having me for life, you will leave my brother alone. You will leave his girlfriend, my sister, alone. I am coming to you as a man who has a family. Please, leave them alone."

"That's interesting." Mikey grins, maniacally.

He pulls the trigger, shoots the other man.

Mikey tells Ran to drive the car. There is blood all over the steering wheel, but he grabs onto it as if it is merely just water.

Now his hands are really, really, tainted with blood. Tainted with the blood of his own soul 一 Haitani Ran 一 as he sells it to the devil. The Pompompurin keychain you had gifted him a few years back because you thought it'd resembled him a lot, now covered in the same blood as he hides it deep in his pocket.

He feels his hands tremble as he puts the gear to D and steps on the accelerator.

To our memory.

"You're wise, Ran."

No witnesses. Only between us both. I will leave Haitani Rindou and your sister alone.

"You have my word."