#good lord dear sir

[missanthropicprinciple]

[icyfox17]

I do find it hilarious how I never actually clocked my love of father son duos until I became a fan of sandduo 😭😭 like I slash gen have always been into them (irondad was one of the first ones I got super into, but you look at any of my first written stories and there are father figures Everywhere 😭😭) but I just didn't clock it as a Thing. I was just like yeah irondad is the best fr.

Vs the fact that I've always known I've been super into best friend duos. Like if you had asked my fav dynamic before the dsmp fandom I'd answer with "best friends obviously" (which is still true!!) buttt it took my best friend (ironic) telling me "hey u have daddy issues" and pointing out all of the Father Son duos for me to be like . Oh

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 05:56 P.M 」

this has been rotting in my drafts for like months :'D based on a suggestion idea a while back—how gojo will definitely land himself in a police station, and since i have no better fic to share yet, i'll just post this :')

a part of gojo's love entries

everyone—or particularly, nanami—has warned you that marrying gojo satoru is going to be far from easy.

and true, less than a month since the two of you were married, he had landed himself in a police station. police station! of all places!

still, you were worried when you got the call, but when you rushed inside the place, all your worries—

“i’m telling you! i’m innocent!”

“sir, please don’t raise your voice here!”

“YOU are raising your voice against me!”

—evaporated. because… what the hell?

satoru, looking cross as if he owned the whole precinct, sat with his legs crossed high. he wore all black and his eyes was covered by that stupid blindfold. and with that haughty attitude, if someone accused him of being a suspicious person, now you would totally understand.

you were fuming as you stomped to where he was. “satoru!”

“oh?!” he turned to you with a wide grin, then to the officer in front of him, pointing at you. “look! i’ve been telling you. i have a wife— and there she is!”

the officer eyed you suspiciously as if he wanted to confirm your identity, and you huffed. “it pains me to admit that i’m his wife—”

“wha?! it ‘pains’ you?! i’m hurt!”

“—but yes, i am. officer, what do i have to do to get him out here?”

you could’ve sworn the officer gave you a look of pity. “ma’am, so we received a report that your… err, husband, was publicly harassing two students—”

you widened your eyes, turning to him accusingly. “you—!”

“i was not!” satoru fiercely interrupted, eyeing the police with clear disdain. “if i want to harass girls, shouldn’t i harass my wife first?!”

you were speechless as you shot him a look of disbelief.

“but sir, the girls said that you have been ‘leering’ at them—”

“i was just passing by! i didn’t even look at them! and when i have a wife this hot—” satoru wildly gestured at you with both hands. “what use is anything else?!”

dear lord. please give me strength. you felt like losing your head over this as you clutched your temple.

“sir, you’re being too loud!”

“i’m telling you, you’re slandering me! that’s crime too!”

this was utter chaos and you finally had enough. “both of you, just...” you breathed out— “shut up!”

both the police and your husband looked at you in surprise as you glared at them with so much ire they would have never expected out of you.

in the end, to settle this fiasco, you ended up paying the fine.

“wifey... forgive me, please?”

satoru dejectedly followed you from behind like a sad puppy as you entered your home. “please? don’t be mad at me...”

you suddenly stopped in your tracks, before whirling to face him, squinting one eye. “you got arrested, made a fool out of yourself, and i bailed you out. so, give me three good reasons why i shouldn’t be mad at you.”

“uh, w-wait...”

“three, two—”

“i-i’m a good kisser! i let you have my body!” he blurted in panic. “and oh—while at it, i also satisfy you sooo well in bed!”

how did you end up with a clown for a husband? despite yourself, you almost laughed at his response, and satoru obviously saw it as a sign of him succeeding. and before you knew it, he leaned and pecked you in the lips.

“look at you, you just smiled!” he giddily grinned as he pulled away. “i’m right, aren’t i!?”

“ha ha...” you let out an exasperated sigh, suppressing your laugh and faint heat in your face at the same time. “satoru...”

his eyes were practically shining. “yes?!”

“you and couch. tonight.”

[maopll]

Helloooo!!!! really interesting event you have going on here :D . a couple pennies for my request?

Can I get a "Hot things they do" prompt with

HSR: Jing Yuan, Sunday, and Boothill Genshin: Neuvillete and Pantalone

Gn!Reader please and thank you <3

HOT THINGS THEY DO

⋆·˚ you swoon over and practically drool whenever he does something which you love to the moon and back. even the simplest of things has you feeling something burning and fluttering inside ...

note : anon you've got tastes. I don't know if there is anything particular I like that they do everything will have me folding over.

sfw // fluff a lil goofy, slight suggestive gn!reader

— ୨ JING YUAN ୧

His breathy laughter is the best of both worlds. Nothing compares to it. Although you are a big fan of his chuckle whenever he is in a tight spot or has it figured out, his laughter is still incomparable.

But he kind of disagrees with you on this since he would have approved it if it was his thighs. He knows how thick they are and how the strap around his upper thigh makes it look even more enticing. "Who says I don't like it?" you retort.

— ୨ SUNDAY ୧

Whenever he is in deep thought, he would leave his pen, cross his arms and would run his fingers through his hair. Most of the time his hair is prim and proper. But when he puffs his chest up in frustration , eyes squinting , and hair a little bit messy, you can confirm that you become like a victorian man seeing ankles.

"Is this the way you like it?" Sunday says a bit unsure as he is practically wearing something that looks diametrically opposite from what he wears. Shirt, jeans, jacket, cap and all the items that screams 'rock metal genre'.

"Stay still pretty boy I need a good picture for my wallpaper"

— ୨ BOOTHILL ୧

"Babe I find you really hot when you threaten people to kill them whenever they try being real mushy mushy with me"

"You muddle fudger I can't even curse them with the real scary words and you liked that?" Boothill stares at you bewildered. "Your synesthesia beacon working overtime and your hands pointing the gun at him as you threaten to do the wildest shit to him if he ever touches me is very very hot you wouldn't understand". He would usually comply with whatever you say but this time he truly thinks that you've got a few screws loose there. But maybe that's your charm and your 'hot thing'.

"Well if you find THAT hot then ..." he swifts you off your feet and places his hat onto your head "don't you like it when I do this hmm sweetie ?"

— ୨ NEUVILLETTE ୧

While the things or his actions are mostly adorable or gentlemanly, even he has his sides which would leave your heart beating fast and hard. But oh lord have mercy on you because when he would tie his hair messily to focus on his paperwork, you fold.

Neuvillette was about to sit down after he tied his hair in a ponytail, but you noticed his tied hair and without thinking you blurted out,

"Do it again"

"Do what again ?"

"Tie your hair again.. I wanna see..."

He obliged to your request like he usually does even though he was a little confused, but when he turned around to face you, you were blushing HARD and one of your hands was on your chin as if scrutinising his every movement and every flex of his muscles. Neuvillette just chuckled at your antics. "Like what you see dear?" "Very much..." you strided towards him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. No matter how many times you ask such silly requests of him, he will always fulfil them.

— ୨ PANTALONE ୧

You didn't know what captivated you to like pantalone and you wanted to find what was something he did that made you find it hot. Lo and behold you found it when he was threatening one of the fatui members.

Two new recruits were standing at esse in front of Pantalone, who was eyeing them from top to bottom. "So... cryogunner... what was the order?" The cryogunner, after swallowing down the lump in his throat with hesitation, replied, "s— sir ... we had to take down the owner of the illegal organisation–"

"And what was the result I received?" his voice cold and eyes piercing. His anger were visible in his eyes even though it did not reflect on his face. "Out of my sights right now the punishment that you two will receive for not abiding to the order will be not so savoury"

The two fatui scurried away after shouting a 'yes sir'. After they left, he removed his glasses and scrunched his face rubbing his temple. Looks like more work got added to his already pending list of tasks. His eyes were full of wrath and anger muttering archons know what

you chuckle "you know your face is doing things to me babe"

"dear I'm not in the mood—" but looking at your face has him rethinking his decision. You biting your lips and eyes dazed... hmm looks like you've found the way to relieve his stress then?

"It's going to be a rough day hm? dear"

[alastor-simp]

La Vie en Rose🌹 - Alastor X Reader

Requested by @hitherethea

"Ugh FML!" Groaning out loud, your body was slowly making its way to somewhere quiet. Today was a very unlucky day, as there was many mishaps that left you feeling frustrated and emotionally drained. Earlier in the morning, you dropped a few plates while putting them away for Niffty. Niffty said it was fine and cleaned up the mess, but it left you feeling extremely guilty. After that incident, you were tasked with getting some groceries for the kitchen, only to being catcalled and nearly sexually harassed by some grotesque reptile demons once you started to head back to the hotel. Nothing happened to you physically, but god, why do some people have to be so gross?! Once you got back, your head got nearly speared by Vaggie on accident when you walked in through the door. She wasn't aiming for you thankfully, she was trying to hit Sir Pentious after he accidentally blasted her favorite ribbon with a laser gun. She grabbed the spear and ran away to catch Sir Pentious, yelling out an apology to you as she chased after a screaming snake slithering down the hallway.

Lord you couldn't catch a break. Your only place of sanctuary was the porch in your room. The view always helped you relaxed and the breeze was nice, despite the mass pollution in the air. Entering your room, you slowly made your way to the porch. The sky was covered in stars, but instead of pitch black, it was a dark vermilion. Well, this was Hell, so it was better then nothing. Heaving a sigh, you moved to one of the chairs on the porch and took a seat, throwing your head back as you tried to relax from the migraine that was starting to form. A few minutes went by as you continued to lean back in the chair, listening to the sounds of the cars screeching below and people yelling profanities at one another. "Why the long face my dear?" A static voice appeared next to your head, causing you to jolt and nearly fall off the chair. Looking up, you see a certain deer demon, leaning down due to his tall height, smiling like a jester at your reaction. "Not funny Al." Grumbling from your position, you got up and sat back properly in your seat. Alastor stood up to his normal position, and broke into a fit of laughter, probably still finding your reaction hilarious. "HAHA! Apologies, my dear! I didn't expect you to take a tumble!" He made his way over to the other chair and sat down, placing his microphone against the wall, before turning to you with his legs crossed and hands on his lap. Finding his response ridiculous, you rolled your eyes. "Yeah right. You enjoy scaring the crap out of everyone."

Shrugging his shoulders, he continued to stare at you, smiling widely. "Anyhoo! What seems to be troubling you, my dear?" Alastor asked you, as he continued to stare at you. His sharp smile turn to a more soft grin as he awaited your response. Sighing again, your eyes turn back to gaze at the view. "Not a very good day today. I made a mess for Niffty, almost got raped by some gross lizard-like demons when I left the grocery store, and then the icing on the cake was getting nearly speared by Vaggie from her chasing after Sir Pentious." Alastor continued to listen to you, his face changing a bit from slight sadness to extreme anger, especially when you mentioned the demons who tried to assault you. Looks like he has some hunting to do later. He may be a serial killer, but any inappropriate actions towards a lady infuriates him. Pushing his feelings of carnage away, he continued to stare at you. Your body was slouched on the chair as your eyes continued to stare at the sky. Instead of the kind smile you usually wore, it was replaced with a somber frown. Moving his hand slowly, he placed his clawed hand on your head, giving you a slight rub. He wasn't use to acts of affection, so this was the best he could offer. "Is there something I can do to make that frown of yours turn back into a smile?" Surprised by Al's words, you looked back at him. He was still smiling, but he was staring at you with kind eyes. You found it sweet that he wanted to cheer you up instead of leaving you alone in your negative emotions. Thinking long and hard about what you wanted, you came to a conclusion.

"Um, could you sing for me perhaps?" Al nearly froze at your request. Out of all the things you wanted, you wanted to hear him sing? Oh what a charming doll you were! Alastors smile grew tremendously, almost to the point it broke his face. Grabbing his microphone, he turned to you, positively joyful at your request. "My my! What an adorable request! Now then! What song would you like me to sing my dear? Request away!" Alastor was beaming at you. He was surprisingly cute like this, but you wouldn't tell him that. Any song? This was tough. You knew he was a fan of oldies and jazz and detested some music genres. Soon you came up with the perfect song for him to sing to you. Blushing at him, you looked away from him, twirling your hair with your fingers. "La vie en rose, please." Alastor was actually surprised at your choice, as he tilted his head. "Why that particular song, my dear?" You looked back at him, face flushed. "Well, I heard that you knew how to speak French, so I kinda wanted to see if it was true or not." Twiddling your fingers, you continued to stare at Al, who was still smiling. "Can you really? Speak French, I mean?" Alastor nodded his head: "Oui mon cher!" Oh no, that made your heart race. Al's voice was already amazing as it was, now you get to hear him sing to you in French?! Someone better pinch you to make sure this is not a dream.

Clearing his throat, Alastor adjusted his position, placing his mic in front of him, as he was preparing for his small performance for you.

(Credit to Paranoid Dj on Youtube for this awesome cover)

🎶𝑄���𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑠

𝑄𝑢'𝑖𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑠

𝐽𝑒 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑒 𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒

𝐼𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑑'𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟

𝐷𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑖, 𝑐̧𝑎 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒

𝐼𝑙 𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒́ 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑐œ𝑢𝑟

𝑈𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛ℎ𝑒𝑢𝑟

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑗𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒

𝐶'𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑢𝑖 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑖, 𝑚𝑜𝑖 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑢𝑖 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑒

𝐼𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑙'𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑡, 𝑙'𝑎 𝑗𝑢𝑟𝑒́ 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑒

𝐸𝑡 𝑑𝑒̀𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑗𝑒 𝑙'𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐̧𝑜𝑖𝑠

𝐴𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑗𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑖

𝑀𝑜𝑛 𝑐œ𝑢𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖 𝑏𝑎𝑡🎶

Two words, HOLY S***! His voice was incredible! The whole time during his performance, you were blushing madly, but also it felt like all the frustration you were feeling before slowly diminished. Singing out the last of the lyrics, a sound of applause radiated from his microphone. "Enjoyed the performance, darling?" Alastor looked back at you, noticing your flushed face and wide eyes. "Darling?" Alastor tilted his head at you, confused at your reaction. Breaking from your trance, you started nodding rapidly. "Yes! I enjoyed your performance very much!" Satisfied that you enjoyed it, Alastor gave a nod, as he placed his microphone back to where he left it. Looking back at you, he raised his hand and grabbed your chin with his fingers. "Feeling better, chérie?" His ruby eyes gazed into yours, almost as if he was staring into your soul. Heat rose to your cheeks as you suspected you were as red as his hair. "Y-es I am. Thank you again Al." No longer feeling upset about the day, your emotions improved and you gave Al a warm smile. Humming with approval, Al still held your chin, but not before leaning closer to the point your noses were touching. "Wonderful my dear! Glad your smile has returned especially since you are never fully dressed without one! If you desire another performance in the future, seek me out."

Goosebumps began to form on your skin, as you continued to stare at Al. He is so close!!! Tongue-tied, you nodded your head. Pleased with your response, Al let go of your chin and stood up from the chair, adjusting his suit and hair. He remembered his previous mission, before he sang to you. Feelings of wrath and rage bubbled inside him, but he hid it as not to alarm you. "Well then! I have some business to attend to at the moment! Have a good evening my dear!" Alastor bid you a farewell, as he diminished in a black shadow, and disappeared from your eyes. Watching Al leave, you covered your face with your hands. It was true you were no longer feeling upset about today, but now you were starting to feel other emotions. Your heart was pounding and your palms were sweating. What was this feeling? It wasn't fear, cause you knew you weren't scared of Alastor, so what was it? Admiration? Or was it something else?

[natti-ice]

dom!eddie x sub!reader

riding eddie on the couch and wayne catching them😋

Pairing: Dom!Eddie Munson x Sub!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, p in v, getting caught, “slut” is used once

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

Your legs are wrapped around Eddie's waist as you rock your hips back and forth, you can feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your tightness. You let out soft breathless moans and wrap your arms around his neck and pushing yourself further onto him. Eddie's big and rough hands are gripping your hips tightly, guiding your body with every thrust.

"Good girl, ride my cock just like that" he praises and starts to move your body a little faster, you can feel the old dated couch beneath the both of you start to sink as things become more intense. Eddie nuzzles his face into your neck, his warm breath tickles which turns you on even more. "You're such a good little slut for me" he whispers, lust laced in every syllable.

The only thing that could be heard in the trailer were your moans and the sound of skin slapping together as you began to bounce up and down on his cock. "Oh fuck, baby" you moaned out loudly, the immense pleasure started to turn your brain to mush, you couldn't comprehend anything else going on around you except for fucking Eddie. And damn, you love fucking Eddie.

Eddie moved his hands from your hips, allowing you to keep the pace, and grabs both of your tits. He squeezes them roughly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to make you go crazy. His calloused thumbs graze your hard and sensitive nipples causing you to whimper softly at just the slightest touch. "Mmm" he hums "so responsive"

You were both so caught up in the moment you didn't hear the trailer door open, it wasn't till you heard the older man's gravelly voice did you realize you weren't alone. "Dear lord" Wayne Munson spoke, your eyes widen and immediately try to get off of Eddie but he pulled you back down and threw a blanket over you haphazardly. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Wayne, seeing his face would make this even worse.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie yells out, annoyed that you two were interrupted “do you mind?”

“Um,” you can hear the shock and bewilderment in Wayne’s voice “I’ll just uh-” before he finished his sentence you could hear quick steps and the door slam shut. Eddie lets out a frustrated sigh and looks back up at you.

“So, where were we?” He says casually as if unfazed by what happened, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“What?” Your heart was beating out of your chest with embarrassment and lingering desire, you couldn’t believe you got caught but it gave you quite the rush “we can’t keep going” you try to reason with him but you knew it was no good.

“We can and we are,” he says with finality in his voice and begins to thrust up into you “I don’t care who sees, this is my pussy and I decide when I fuck it, understood?” He increases his pace and hold you in place as he jackhammers into your wet hole

The feeling of his cock stretching you out was too good to resist, you knew it was wrong but Eddie had a way of making you feel things no one else could, moans start to flow freely from you once again.

“Yes, sir”

Tags: @ali-r3n @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @canmargesimpson @nailbatanddungeon @queermaxwooo @zestychili @skrzydlak @supersmexyandhot @themadhattersqueen @arthurcerverogf @marshymallo

Join a tag list!

[bunnys-kisses]

Omg I am GREEDY could I please request for max banana bread and a croissant with a side of coffee hard lemonade?! Just imagining max getting jealous with a rival Mercedes driver who is Toto’s daughter or something when he sees her flirting with someone else 😌😌😌 spicy please sir 🙏

the bakery menu

still many sweet treats on the menu and orders are still available! feel free to place an order! also to the anon who requested this, i love your beautiful mind for this! i was somewhat expecting someone to request the reader be either horner or toto's daughter, but combined with the other prompts, i rather enjoy your devilish mind! please enjoy!

in addition, this will probably be the largest bakery request, this sort of got away from me!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served to you by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, driver!reader, driver!max, rough sex, degrading language, rivals au, hate fucking, teasing, max & reader hate each other and their fathers, possessive behaviour/jealousy, mentions of marriage and kids

you were good, and that pissed max off. it wasn't because you were a woman, that didn't matter. anyone of any gender who was better than him left a chill down his back.

you were good, so therefore he had to be better.

"are you upset that you lost, princess."

the hateful nickname people gave you in formula one, you were the daughter of toto wolff and drove for the team he basically owned. your father was technically your boss and most thought that you were incapable of being good. that everything was handed to you by your father.

your jaw tensed, you were number two in the season. marginally behind max verstappen who was looking at you with a smugness.

"so what will be your reward, oh dear lord verstappen. how can i a humble peasant in the world of formula one be so thankful that you beat me." your tone was laced with poison.

"motor home at the end of the lot. the one right beside the one your father's team owns." he was almost cocky and it made you want to go at his throat.

but rules were rules and as much as you wanted to whip your helmet at him. this sick little cat and mouse would just have to continue, except this time max was the cat.

you were pressed up against the door of the motor-home hours later after interviews, max had you by the shoulders as he pulled you into a searing kiss. he had taken home the trophy and you were a seething little rabbit.

being rivals sometimes meant ending up in compromising positions. and you and max made quite a pair. you heard the conversations online about the idea of you two being a couple.

a few photos from your early days of racing had made the rounds off of a private facebook page that a former friend had and onto the likes of instagram and tiktok.

you thought that the photos were before the "arrangement" you had but you could see in the shit quality of the photo the prominent hicket on max's hip in one of the photos where he had his arms raised above his head and the t-shirt he wore had rolled up.

the most incriminating was one that was a tad blurrier than the others. it was you and max at a club somewhere in either mexico or brazil and max had his arm slung around you, and your nose was in the crook of his shoulder and you looked like you were half asleep. max looked drunk as hell. but it wasn't the position you were in, but rather the trail of deep red lipstick across his cheek and down his neck. you were both out of it, very drunk but it was obvious that you were kissing all over the other driver's neck. you tried to explain online that it was just a wicked bruise on his face! but when was the last time a bruise looked like lips?

if those were bad enough, if someone found the both of you in the position you were in now, the media would latch onto it for the next decade. until you two eventually got married and had the next heir to the verstappen racing legacy.

he pulled at your racing shirt, the logo of mercedes was starting to piss him off. he didn't want to see it stretched around your tits, he'd rather have the flesh in his lands and covering it in dark hickies.

his hat was on the ground soon after and you two kept a close distance as you made your way through the motor home, trailing clothes behind. until you got to the upstairs portion where if left you in just your mismatched socks and him in his tight briefs and red bull polo shirt.

"you look good."

"you act like you've never seen me naked before." you approached him and pressed yourself up against him and linked fingers with him, "we've been doing this since what, 2016?"

he looked down at you, "and yes you only get more beautiful, i keep wondering why you can never find a boyfriend. are they scared?"

you clenched his hand and said, "max verstappen, anytime a man with any kind of clout follows me on instagram, they always seem to unfollow me right after. i have my guesses on why that is happening, but i feel like you'd have a better idea." then flashed him a smile before you pushed him onto the bed.

max looked up and smiled at you. not the one who put on for the cameras, but rather a true genuine smile. he responded as he took his shirt off, "princess, i honestly don't know. could be your overbearing father for all you know. he would only want the best for you after all."

you straddled his clothed cock and placed your hands across his chest, "well, then i guess it wouldn't bother you if i said that two weekends ago i had a little post-race rendezvous with leclerc."

max's attention piqued. the green-eyed monster that lived in the driver reared its ugly head. he said, "you went somewhere with charles?"

you nodded and cupped his face. you smiled and replied, "oh yeah. nice big boat, lots of wine. he let me put the ferrari hat on when i rode him. but you're not bothered by that, right?"

max grabbed you by the back of the head and pulled you into a hot kiss. you could feel the tension in his body, the jealousy taking root. when you pulled away, he looked sternly into your eyes, he held your head and said, "you're a little liar. how would you father feel if he found out that you were a dirty fucking liar."

a sick little game. this what this all was. losing your career and favour with your father was not worth it, so the games continued until you both got bored. but it's been almost ten years and there was very little boredom.

"really, go ask him next time." you pushed further. you could feel his clothed erection up against your pussy. fucking freak.

max replied, "yeah, yeah. i'll ask him, and then i'll invite him over next time. he doesn't live that far away, princess. and i will show him how to actually fuck you. because i know if you did sleep with him, you were faking your orgasms."

you nodded a little and said, "yeah, verstappen. why don't we bring up the time you called me because you thought you got some girl in italy pregnant." you pressed your forehead against his. the sharp words were replaced with hot kisses.

max's briefs were soon off, followed by your socks. you two hated each other, it was a sickening affair. fueled by lust, hate and wanting some kind of release. you were your fathers' pet projects, a mutually assured destruction was the only way out of it. and it took the form and max's hands gripping your hips as he wrestled you onto your elbows and knees.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said, "maybe if you're lucky, it'll be your name in a few years." he rubbed his cock up against your slick pussy.

you wanted to reach behind you and hit him, but instead your muttered out, "yeah well your son will have the wolff last name then."

he yanked your hair and said, "not if i have anything to do about it. i'd rather our sons have strong a last name and good dutch first names." his voice was honey in your ear, you hated how that strong of words soaked your to your core. he chuckled in your ear as he slid in his cock into you. with both hands on your hips, "we can invite your father to our wedding, i think it would be a little rude for me not to. watch him hand over his only daughter."

"i'm going to kill you verstappen." you snapped and he pushed your face further into the bed. the light streamed through the large windows, asshole didn't even close the curtains. who knew what paparazzi was lingering around still.

"don't be mad, princess, it's not a bad thing that the only way you'll ever be close to the championship is to have my last name."

"i'm going to win this entire thing and i'm going to ruin you, max."

"not if i ruin you first." he rocked you against his cock. he hand you by the hips and drilled his cock into you.

you hated that you loved it, you hated how easily it was for him to get you into his bad. you hated that he was your biggest rival and the other fucker on the grid who could make you finish. you've heard the horror stories from former girlfriends.

max on the other hand took a sick pleasure in making your cum over and over and over again, until your voice was raw from the amount of times you said his name like worship.

you wanted him dead, but you also wanted him between your legs.

the sex between you two was hot, it was like touching a hot handle on the stove. you clawed at the soft white covers and let max thrust into you. you knew he was going to finish in you, after you told him you were on the pill, he took full advantage of that.

you thought it was a weird ownership over you. the thought of it made you frown against the covers. max kept you pinned as he fucked you.

the tumble of pleasure in the motor-home coursed through you. you felt hot all over, his breath in your ear and the weight of him on top of you. he kept you pinned between him and the bed.

"you're a sick fuck, verstappen."

"not as much as you, wolff." he said between heavy pants.

you had trained each other for sex to be a quick thing in stranger areas. there was no time for passion and romance. you rubbed your forehead against the covers and panted heavily. you felt close to your orgasm with your heart hammering.

"i'm gonna cum." you panted, you arched your back and looked up at him. he leaned over you for a hot kiss on your lips, his pace became more sporadic, and with that it sent you over the edge.

he broke the kiss and gave it a few more hearty thrusts before he finished inside of you. orgasm gripped him tightly and he let out a hard pant as he came to a stop.

"fuck."

"shit."

"max."

"i know."

he kept one of his large hands on your lower back as you panted heavily against the bed. you reached for him and ended up tucked into his side. he held you, it was almost tender.

"verstappen."

"wolff."

it felt good being next to him, even if he was your rival. while the sex was amazing, you knew that there would be a part two to his reward for beating you.

but for a moment you let yourself come down from the intense high of climax, slightly pissed that max verstappen was the one who was able to make you feel good.

fuckin' asshole.

-

"this is stupid, max." you said as you tried to adjust the shirt on your body. it was a little too big, but it would stroke max's ego.

max was seated at the edge of the bed, the shirt you were wearing was once on him. he said to you with a smile, "i think that you look rather good. i think you'd be better on red bull's team."

you looked over your shoulder, "or i could make you come to mercedes? we'd know how to take care of you." you giggled before you went over to him.

the shirt on you was one of many red bull polos that max owned, it was what he wanted on top of having sex with you. you got in his lap and spread your hands across his bare chest.

"i guess i can live with wearing these terrible colours, once." you tapped him on the nose and added, "but don't get used to it, verstappen. i'll make sure to get you a pretty thong with the mercedes logo on it when i win."

he took you by the back of the neck and pulled you into a searing kiss and said, "right, right. maybe next time i win, you can go to the paddock with my cock on your breath and the red bull logo across those pretty tits of yours." he held you closer and licked his lips, "now, schat. i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you cupped his face and said, "you have twenty minutes verstappen, either you get another orgasm out of me or i'm leaving."

he laughed and cupped your breasts through your shirt. he said ina voice so painfully sweet, "of course, ms. wolff, would hate to get the best driver in all of mercedes waiting. i know you're all an impatient bunch." then was pulled into a hot kiss before you two ended up back fully on the bed. <3

[ahqkas]

# SWEET LITTLE LIES ; mattheo riddle

❛ tell me sweet little lies ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! mattheo riddle expects to be met with familiar scents of parchment and rain. instead, he's stunned to recognize the fragrance of (name)

WORD COUNT! 2.2k

WARNINGS! none, maybe ooc mattheo since it’s my first time writing for him

NOTES! best read in the true blue mode

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

THE DIMLY LIT CLASSROOM OF POTIONS BUZZED WITH THE SUBDUED MURMURS OF STUDENTS AS THEY TOOK THEIR SEATS, THE SOUND ECHOING OFF THE COLD, STONE WALLS. The weather outside stormed wildly, the winter snow freezing the windows of the castle and covering the land with a white blanket. It was a clear sign that Christmas was coming soon. Maybe even sooner than expected. Flickering torches cast dancing shadows, adding to the room's eerie ambiance. The long, wooden tables were neatly arranged in rows, each one equipped with cauldrons and an assortment of ingredients that glistened in the low light.

The scent of musty parchment and various potions' ingredients lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of damp stone. Professor Slughorn, with his rotund figure and genial demeanor, bustled about the room, his jovial laughter cutting through the tension as he waited for the students to take their seats. His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles as he greeted each student personally with a huge amount of enthusiasm.

As you settled into your seat, you could feel the cool air from the dungeon's depths and outside's snow, a stark contrast to the warm, humid air that rose from the simmering cauldrons. The anticipation was palpable, each student eager yet apprehensive about the complex potion they were about to brew. No potion was easy, after all, and the one before Christmas break was the actual opposite of easy.

Mattheo Riddle slipped into a seat near the back, his expression as inscrutable as ever. You caught his eye for a fleeting moment before looking away, a shiver running down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. The atmosphere was thick with concentration and a hint of tension, as everyone prepared to prove their skills in the demanding environment of the Potions dungeon.

Professor Slughorn clasped his hands together, a gleam of excitement in his eyes, as he addressed the class once everyone was ready to begin with the lesson. "Good afternoon, my dear students! Today, we have a particularly enchanting potion in our hands. We'll be brewing Amortentia! Anybody knows what Amortentia is?"

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room as students exchanged curious glances. Hermione Granger's hand shot up eagerly, and Professor Slughorn nodded in her direction. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

The girl straightened in her seat, her voice confident as she replied, "Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence, sir. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker. However, it's not truly love, but rather an intense and temporary obsession."

Professor Slughorn beamed at her response, pleased with her as always. "Excellent, Miss Granger! Five points to Gryffindor for your impeccable knowledge. Indeed, Amortentia is a potion that has been the subject of many cautionary tales throughout history. But fear not, today we shall handle it with the utmost care and respect for its potency."

As Professor Slughorn's cheerful voice echoed through the dungeon, assigning partners for the upcoming project, you listened with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Names were called, pairs formed, until finally, he reached the one that made your heart skip a beat.

"And for Miss [Last name]," Professor Slughorn announced, scanning the room with a thoughtful expression, "I think it's only fitting to pair you with Mr. Riddle."

A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned towards you and Mattheo. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Of course they'd stare, he was the Dark Lord's son. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you exchanged a brief, uncertain glance with Mattheo, his expression unreadable as always.

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together, breaking the tension with his trademark joviality. "There we have it, ladies and gentlemen! Partners assigned, let the festivities begin!"

When the class dissolved into activity, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that clouded your mind. Being partnered with Mattheo Riddle for a project meant spending more time in his presence, meaning being surrounded by the rumors that circled around him like bees circled flowers. Once people talked, no one could stop it.

And Mattheo Riddle had a reputation of his own to own.

Said Riddle approached your desk with a measured stride, his expression guarded yet polite, never actually showing what was on his mind. He took the seat beside you, and a light scent of cinnamon greeted your senses as you acknowledged each other with a nod.

Clearing his throat, the Slytherin turned towards you, his voice carefully neutral. "[Last name]," he began, his eyes never once breaking the eye contact he held from the start, "do you happen to know what ingredients we need for the Amortentia potion?"

You glanced up from the parchment which contained the names of the ingredients you'd need for the potion, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah," you replied softly, your tone gentle yet confident. "We'll need powdered moonstone, a sprig of peppermint, Ashwinder egg, rose thorns and petals, and some of the pearl dust."

Mattheo's eyebrows lifted, clearly being impressed when you named the ingredients without even having to look at the parchment. "Let's gather the ingredients and get started then, shall we?"

And with that, you began to brew the potion, your movements synchronized as you both worked side by side, each lost in your own thoughts yet connected by the shared task of the potion brewing before you two.

The ambient noise of the dungeon—a blend of bubbling cauldrons and hushed conversations—created a cocoon of privacy around your shared workspace.

You reached for the powdered moonstone, your fingers brushing Mattheo's briefly as he handed you the jar. A quick glance passed between you, and you'd been surprised at how this even happened. You know Mattheo is careful enough to not touch anyone, unless absolutely necessary (doesn't apply to his friends and people he's got a problem with). Carefully, you measured the moonstone and added it to the cauldron, watching as the shimmering powder dissolved into the bubbling liquid.

Next came the peppermint. Mattheo's hands were steady as he delicately placed the sprig into the cauldron, the potion emitting a soft, iridescent glow. His focus was intense, his usual guarded expression softened by the concentration and when his brows furrowed, creating frown lines between them, you couldn't help but admit to yourself he's rather breathtaking when he's not throwing daggers with his glare.

"Just a bit of rose petals left," you said in concentration, eyes following the Slytherin's movements. Mattheo nodded, holding the small vial with care. As he added the final ingredient, the potion swirled, releasing a heady aroma that made your heart race. You expected to smell the familiar scents of home - fresh pine, baked goods, and the flowery smell of fields. Yet, you inhaled a completely different mix of scents, confusing you to the roots. Cigarettes, jasmine, and the strong cologne Mattheo was wearing, along with cinnamon.

You turned to him with a frown etched on your face while your eyes searched his. "Did you try to drown yourself in your cologne today?"

The boy next to you blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the sudden accusation. "What? No," he replied while leaning closer to you. "I barely used any."

"They why do you reek of it?"

Mattheo's brown irises flickered to the potion, then back to you. "I could ask you the same thing. Your perfume can be smelled in the whole classroom."

The cogs in his head started to whirl as the thought about it and for better reassurance, Mattheo leaned above the bubbling cauldron and inhaled deeply, his eyes widening slightly as he recognized a scent that clearly resonated with what he just said. He glanced at you, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flickering in his eyes. For a brief moment, the walls he had carefully built around himself seemed to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that caught you off guard to see.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence he created without any intention. "Looks like we brewed it right," he exclaimed, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something unspoken. You nodded, feeling a similar mix of emotions as you looked into the softly glowing pink potion.

Professor Slughorn, who had been making his rounds through the classroom, examining potions and asking students to describe the scents they perceived, finally approached your table. His joyful demeanor brightened further as he peered into your cauldron, a look of pleased surprise spreading across his face as he clapped his hands at the sight.

"Ah, splendid work, you two! This is the best brew I've seen yet," he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with approval. "Such a perfect example of Amortentia! Now, tell me, Mr. Riddle, what scents do you detect?"

Mattheo hesitated, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he focused on the potion again. He took a deep breath, the familiar and intoxicating aroma washing over him. "I smell parchment," he began, his voice steady, "and fresh rain... and—" He paused, his gaze meeting yours, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "And a hint of wildflowers, like the ones near the edge of the Forbidden Forest."

Slughorn's eyebrows lifted in delight. "Marvelous! Wildflowers, you say? Such an evocative scent, isn't it?" He turned his attention to you, clearly curious. "And you, my dear? What do you smell?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks under the intensity of both Slughorn's and Mattheo's gazes. "I... I smell the smoke of cigarettes," you said, concentrating on the whirl of scents, "and something soft, like... jasmine, and a hint of something spicy. Cinnamon, perhaps.”

Slughorn clapped his hands together, beaming. "Excellent, both of you! You've captured the essence of Amortentia beautifully. Your potion reflects a deep, personal connection to the scents you hold." He nodded approvingly and moved on to the next table, leaving you and Mattheo in a charged silence.

As the professor's attention shifted elsewhere, you found yourself staring into the cauldron, the shimmering potion a reminder of the truths it had revealed rather than a simple love potion. Mattheo's description lingered in your mind - wildflowers, fresh rain -scents unmistakably tied to you.

Mattheo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, wildflowers, huh?" he said, attempting a half-smirk but unable to mask the underlying tension.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. "Jasmine and spices... it's not exactly subtle, is it?"

He shook his head, the faint smirk fading as he looked at you, his expression earnest. "No, it's not."

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. The potion had done more than just showcase your brewing skills; it had unveiled the undeniable bond between you neither of you were aware of.

As the class drew to a close, the potion's shimmering surface still held your gaze. Professor Slughorn's praise echoed in your mind, but it was Mattheo's words that truly resonated. The students began to pack up their things, the room filled with the sounds of clattering glassware and murmured conversations.

Finally, as the last of the students filed out, leaving the dungeon quieter and more intimate, Mattheo turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "[Last name]," he began, a smirk playing on his lips, "It's all confusing to me but you can't deny it. The Amortentia—it's not just a potion, you know what it does and what it did."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the flutter of emotions with a playful smile. "Is that so, Riddle? Took a love potion for you to figure out what you feel for me? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one."

Mattheo chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Well, Granger can't be the only one showing off in class. Besides, it's hard to be clever when someone's making it difficult to think straight."

You rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. "So, what do we do now? Have a dramatic confession in front of everyone or keep exchanging sarcastic remarks and piss everyone off?"

"I vote for sarcastic remarks," Mattheo replied with a grin. "They're more fun. Plus, I wouldn't want you to think I'm going soft."

"Perish the thought," you said with a mock gasp. "Imagine the scandal."

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine for the first time you've heard him laugh. It was a new, yet heartwarming sound. "But seriously, [Last name], let's take it one step at a time. No need to rush."

You nodded, content with the idea. "Agreed. Just promise me one thing, Riddle."

"Anything," he said, his tone suddenly sincere.

"Don't drown yourself in cologne again. It's really distracting."

The smirk he spotted before returned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Only if you promise not to spend all your time in the Forbidden Forest looking for wildflowers. It'd be a shame if you got lost."

"Deal," you said, unable to suppress a laugh.

Together, you left the dungeon, the lingering scent of Amortentia left behind you. As you walked side by side, trading jabs and teasing comments, Mattheo's fingers brushed against yours in a silent invitation before he enveloped your palm with his.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[missanthropicprinciple]

Just gonna leave this here.

[evilminji]

You know what would be hilarious? The Totally Normal Collage Life of one Valerie Gray(tm)!

She PROMISED you see.

It is fuled by the unspeakable rage of every one of her ancestors trying to do their damn job at on 2 hours of sleep and no coffee. Maternal line, of course. Her FATHER'S bloodline is bizarrely chill.

But dear LORD you should have seen her grandpa yeeting hooligans into composting heaps for getting in the way of his early morning baking. You don't MESS with grandpa's bakery, people learned THAT fast. Long time Amity natives the lot of um! All sorts of interests. That side of the family got real... ob.. sessive....

Waaaaaait a second. She's connecting some dots.

Not important! (Currently.)

See, her dad WORRIES. And SHE worries cause her dad worries. So she PROMISED! No funny business. No ghosts. And NO, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, crime fighting! Just go to her classes and get good grades. Focus on setting her self up for a good future.

O7 yes sir, dad sir! Fuck them ghosts and their nonsense!

So she studied like the brilliant young woman she is. Got FANTASTIC scholarships. Checked out the various colleges. And??

Honestly?

Vibes were RANCID.

Some city's were too... twee? If that makes sense? And some too "time fucky". Others felt "magical nonsense" and "barren Ectoplasmic wasteland"? And the last few were just kinda racist, so that was not happening. Like the CITIES were fine! But the SCHOOLS were... Subtext Heavy.

She might have had to break somebody if she stayed their too long.

She's heard Paulina's going to one of those, though. So... Ha! Rip in pieces fuckos. She honestly can't wait too see THAT gruesome trainwreck from a safe distance. Paulina's gonna THRIVE. Its probably why she even CHOSE that school.

Where was she? Oh, right!

She's deeply fucked and it's Batman's fault!

See, Valerie? Kinda chose Gotham U. It... wasn't her WISEST choice for her "totally normal, crime fighting free, young adult adventures(tm)" but like? What can you do? Gotham just feels so HOMEY!

And MAYBE she gets a little too relaxed. Too tired from a long day of studying.

Some rando tries to mug her with riddles or something! Look, she was TIRED. Not listening. She kicks his ass and goes home. And the plant protest lady. Or that crocodile not-a-ghost?! And YEAH, maybe flying to class wasn't the BEST idea! But like?

How was SHE supposed to know someone saw her?!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation

[endlessthxxghts]

What You Need

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈6.3k

Summary: You come home from a horribly stressful day at University to everything in your family home a complete mess only for you to take care of. Joel helps you and gives you exactly what you need.

Warnings: SUUUPER self indulgent (sorry guys - it makes for a good plot tho, so i’m not all that sorry <3). no use of “y/n”, age gap (22/42), LATINO JOEL MILLER (idc what anyone says, he needs a warning), established relationship, no physical descriptions of reader, pet names (darlin’, sweet girl, pretty girl, princess, etc.), reader “takes care of everyone but who takes care of her” plot, more porn than plot lol, [SMUT 18+ MDNI] daddy kink, sir kink, heavy on the D/s dynamic (reader falls into subspace), cockwarming, unprotected piv (don’t be like these 2 idiots), breeding kink, cum eating, creampie, finger fucking, finger sucking (briefly), choking, hair pulling, brief thoughts about anal, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, hickeys/marking kink, squirting!, toy use, fluffy ending… i think that’s it?? (dear lord pls forgive me, for i have sinned)  if i missed anything, lmk pls!

Quick lil author’s note (see bottom for extended a/n): In all honesty, I wanna dedicate this (nasty) little one shot to @javierpena-inatacvest because if it wasn’t for our interactions as of late plus reading your “It’s Never Too Late” fic, I never would’ve said fuck it and just start writing with the intention of potentially showing it to the world. Thank you for inspiring me. You’re amazing & I literally love u so so much. You deserve phenomenal head all the love in the world for everything you do <3.

MAIN MASTERLIST || ONESHOT COLLECTION

It was a long day at university today, as per usual, but something about today completely drained you. 

You went to bed past midnight last night because you were busy finishing up a paper, only to get up at 7am the next morning to spend the next 13 hours juggling between classes, assignments, and studying in your “free” time. By the time you were ready to head back home, you were on your very last thread, begging to snap. You also completely spaced on nourishing your body today, the only thing running through it being water and coffee — lots of coffee. 

That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that the minute you entered your family home, the entire house was an absolute mess, your pets weren’t given their food yet, and no dinner was made. And just like every other day since you grew into an acceptable height to reach the kitchen stove, you took care of it. All of it. 

You were so grateful to your family for allowing you to stay at home during your undergraduate years. It makes your in-state tuition even cheaper, and you get the comfort of your own bed. You knew not many people could rely on their parents and family like this, so you don’t want to sound selfish when you think about how you really wish you had your own place right about now. 

It’s been an hour and a half since you've been home, and you’re barely finishing up getting the food for your dogs when your phone dings in your back pocket. 

Didn’t text me when you got home, baby. Everything okay?

It was from Joel. The neighbor directly across from you, and a quickly growing family friend of yours. Your heart both saddens at the fact that you forgot your unspoken ritual, but it swells at the way he can read you. 

It all began at a small family party last year. You were 21 at the time, and for some reason you could not take your eyes off of your neighbor — who was 20 years your senior. It was always just shared glances or you bringing baked goods from your stress-baking endeavors, but at that party, there was a good period of time where your entire family went outside to the bonfire in the backyard to drink until their hearts gave out, leaving you with the dishes and a trashed house to clean. Joel noticed this, how much they relied on you. Whether it was coming over for a beer with your brothers or your father, or to fix an appliance for your older sister, they always walked all over you — when you did absolutely everything for them. So, he took matters into his own hands and went inside to help you clean up. 

You insisted he didn’t need to, but you knew he wouldn’t let up. So, there, you two worked, harmoniously, straightening up your home in half the time it would normally take you by yourself. The second you completed the last task, you reached for the remote and plopped yourself on the couch, half expecting Joel to go back outside with your family. Except, he plopped himself on the couch right next to you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, “What are we watchin’, darlin’?” 

“You know you could’ve stayed outside with everyone else, Miller,” you say as you turn your body to him with an eyebrow quirked up. He matches your expression, “Well, where’s the fun in that?” 

You break into a breathy little giggle, satisfied with his comeback, and you turn on the TV. With your family completely occupied outside, it was easy for either of you to make a move. And although Joel had been planning to for the last few months before this party, you took matters into your own hands and lifted his arm closest to you, tucked yourself into his side and pulled his arm back around your body. He looked down at you, smirking at your boldness while your eyes remained fixed on the movie before you. 

The next few hours of the night were filled with secret caresses and stolen kisses, and you have never felt more loved and appreciated in your life. From then on, you’ve been absolutely smitten with him, and he with you. 

Instead of replying, you dial him instead. Not even a third ring goes by before he answers, “Baby.” 

“Oh my god, hi, baby, I’m so sorry. I completely spaced. The minute I got home, the house was a mess, the dogs weren’t fed yet, dinner wasn’t even cooked, and I-”

“Mi amor,” he says with a deep breath, implicitly telling you to take one, “it’s okay, baby. I don’t wanna hear sorry from you. I’m sorry everythin’ is a mess, baby. Can I help? Need me to come over?”

Your rapid heart rate immediately starts to slow at how calming, ready and willing he is to give you anything you need. Your family would go absolutely insane if Joel just showed up right now with the sole intention of helping you take care of the home and yourself, but you don’t mention that. “No, baby, I promise I’m okay. I just need to relax. I need-” you pause for a moment to take another breath because you feel your body going panicky again. “I need…honestly, I just need you.” 

After the shitty day you’ve had today, having to take control of every single thing, honestly all you really want, and need, right now is for your control to be taken away. You don’t want to think, you don’t want to decide, and you don’t even want to figure out your dinner even though you haven’t eaten all day. 

He pauses for a moment, hearing the slight whine at your last statement. And just like that, Joel is at your rescue. “You need me, huh, babygirl?” 

“Mhm, please.” 

“Cross the street, darlin’, right now,” and he hangs up the phone. 

You bolt out of your seat, and sprint straight to the front door, quickly locking it. You think to say something on the Ring camera, letting your family know you’ll be back, but you know they won’t even think twice at your absence. You already cleaned the house and took care of the animals they begged for but don’t care for — why else would they look for you? 

Just in case they do check the cameras, however, you immediately veer to the left side of your driveway into the blind spots of your front door. 

Within seconds, you’re at his door about to knock, but he’s already opening the door, whispering a soft hi followed by your name, and pulling you into a tight embrace. He pulls you away for a second, assessing your face, assessing your needs. He sees your brows pulled together, eyes glossed over, and a pout beginning to form. You don’t need soft and comforting. You need stern, dominating control. You need nothing but pure bliss, and he’s going to give that to you. But first: 

“Safe words. Repeat em’.” 

“Red for hard stop, yellow if I’m starting to get uncomfortable, and green to keep going.” 

“That’s my girl,” he says and finally pulls you in for that rough, all-consuming kiss you’ve been craving. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and obviously he wins. His hands are roughly sliding down to the underside of your asscheeks, tightly pulling you into his hardening bulge. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, but pause for a moment because he never gave you permission to. He senses that, and pulls back for just a moment. “Such a good fuckin’ girl for me. Go ‘head, baby, touch me.” 

You immediately bring your arms back up to grab ahold of him but too riled up in how he’s making you feel, you don’t notice the huge grumble your empty tummy makes. He pulls both your wrists back from his neck and puts an insufferable amount of space between you two. 

He says your name, filled with both concern and slight anger. “When was the last time you ate?” 

Silence. 

He lets go of your wrist and grabs your chin between his pointer and thumb, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’m not askin’ again, baby.”

“Y-yesterday night,” you stumble out. 

“I’m not givin’ you a heavy meal ‘cause that’ll just upset your stomach, but I am fixin’ you somethin’. Go upstairs, change into the clothes on the bed, come back down and position yourself on the ottoman, like I taught ya last week, hm?”

Too enamored by his roughly smooth voice, all you can muster up is a nod. His eyebrow barely shifts, but that’s all a warning you need. “Yes, sir.” 

Padding up into his room, already feeling your insides start to float, you reach the edge of his bed to see a pair of black cheeky boxers, and a thin, fitted black tee. You quickly strip off everything you arrived here in and slip on the garments he gave you. Wasting no time, you head back down in a bee line to the ottoman. 

Like I taught ya last week, hm?

His words echo in your mind as you begin to recall last week’s endeavors. 

You were straddling his lap for a while now, slowly swallowing each other’s moans and making every part of each other’s body ingrained into your memories. Until suddenly he pulls back, eyes dead set with intention. “You trust me, baby?”

“Always, Joel,” you say back with as stern a voice as possible, confused as to why he’d ask such a thing. “Can I teach you somethin’, then, darlin’?”

You pull him into one more kiss before you breathily tell him yes and pull yourself off his lap to stand before him, fully at his disposal. 

He stands up, and without any verbal indications, he’s grabbing onto you and molding your body onto the ottoman in a position that begins to drift you off into subspace. You don’t know if it’s the fact that you're sitting on your knees with your legs tucked under you, or if it’s the slow drag of his hands caressing your inner thighs, pulling them farther apart from each other. Or maybe it’s the way he softly places your hands, palms up, atop of your thighs. Whatever the hell it is, you absolutely fucking love it. 

He feels you melting into every little touch he makes and he notes every little moment you slip further and further into your space. “Doin’ okay, my sweet girl?” he asks, voice dark and sweet. 

All you can pull out of yourself is a pathetic little whine and a head nod. 

“This is position number one. Remember it. We’ll learn more later, but this’ll do just fine for a while, baby.”

And with that, he kisses you ever so softly but with such a dominating, addictive energy that you feel yourself try to push up into him, and immediately he pulls away. 

“Sweet girl, Imma let it slide this time, but you do not move from this position unless given permission. Ya hear?”

You return to your original position and assure him how good you’ll be, “Won’t happen again, daddy, I promise.”

His jaw clenches at the honorific; that’s your number one tell that signifies you’ve completely submitted and fallen into subspace. He had originally planned on giving you what you asked for two days ago — “Please, Joel, I need you to fuck me, hard.” — but seeing you all docile and ready for him just makes him want to absolutely praise you in the most beautiful ways possible. 

So that’s what he did. For hours. An hour of bending you over the ottoman to eat your pussy like a man who had all the time in the world, an hour of fingering orgasm after orgasm out of you while his mouth switched between licking and marking your tits, and a few hours after that just slowly fucking you into his mattress, caressing and loving on every single part of your body he could reach. 

Let’s just say, your family didn’t see you for the rest of that day or the next, and you did not care one fucking bit. 

You shuffle onto the ottoman, your form now perfected after secretly practicing each night to increase your endurance of staying in such a position for however long Joel needed you to. 

You wait for about five more minutes before he comes back with a platter of all of your favorite fruits — strawberries, mangoes, and pineapple — and sits on the cushioned seat right in front of you. He melts at how good you sit for him, immediately disregarding his original plan and wanting you as close to him as possible. 

“My good, beautiful girl,” he says softly, in a way that you’re not sure if it was even meant for you to hear, but you still melt nonetheless. “Come,” he says as he pats his lap while setting the plate off to the table beside him. 

You shoot up like a lightning bolt, too excited at the thought of being able to feel him again, but before you can climb up, he grabs your hips, stopping you for a second. He slides his fingers into the hem of your underwear and slowly slides them completely off of you, setting them neatly on the ottoman behind you. He slowly reaches for his belt, then slides it off, letting it fall somewhere on the ground. You stand completely still, patiently waiting for whatever he’s going to give you, although your pussy is proving anything but patient. 

He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans and signals for you to come up. “Take me out, cariño.”

You climb up on his thighs, not fully straddling him to give yourself some room to tug his jeans and boxers down enough to pull him free. You pull him free with a small moan escaping your lips, wanting to dart your tongue out and lick his angry tip, but he didn’t give his permission for that. So, you begrudgingly let him go, and wait for what comes next. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he states nonchalantly as if his dick isn’t absolutely begging for you to reach out and grab it. “You’re gonna sit on my cock, keep me nice and warm. Without moving. Only until you’ve eaten all the fruit on this plate will I think about what’s gonna happen next. Got it?”

Your voice trembles, “Y-yes, sir.” 

He nods his head, while bringing his hand up to your mouth, signaling for you to let your drool fall. You scoot closer and lift your hips up while he pumps himself a few times to completely cover himself in your spit. With how much your cunt is dripping, you knew his lewd act was for his benefit and his only. 

The second his tip catches at your entrance, you can’t control the high-pitch whine that falls from your mouth, and he can’t stop himself from gripping your hips with a bruising force in an attempt to keep from mercilessly pounding up into you right here. 

“So f-fucking full,” you breath out as you sink lower and lower, to which he nearly growls with a strained, “So fucking tight.”

You finally bottom out, and you both take a moment to breathe and settle any impulsive thoughts of forgetting the purpose of tonight’s scene. You shift a little to adjust to settle your legs more comfortably at his sides, while he leans over to bring your plate of fruit closer. Both your actions together make you hiss in desperation.

“Color, baby?”

“Green, sir, green,” you promise him.

He smiles, genuine and bright, before his face goes dark and smug again. He picks up a piece of pineapple with his fingers. “Open.”

You lean in and take the sweet fruit from his fingers, making sure to lick any residual of the pineapple’s sweet juices. This goes on until you’ve finished every last piece he cut for you. Towards the last few pieces, your pussy was absolutely drenching his cock with your slick, both your thighs and his soaked. He could feel every pulse and every flutter, and no matter how patient he usually was, something in the air tonight was testing every ounce of his strength. 

He sets the plate aside and licks a mix of fruit juices and your spit clean off his fingers. You watch him, completely entranced by the way his tongue wraps around his thick fingers, and you can’t help but feel such an aching need to throw yourself at him. 

So you do. And to your surprise, he allows it. You pull both his arms to wrap around your middle and you push yourself into him for a searing kiss, whimpering for him to slip you his tongue. He indulges, and you immediately begin grinding your hips down onto his cock. He growls and wraps his arms tighter around you, adding more pressure into your grind, forcing you to break the kiss to regain your breath. “Fuck, baby. Such an impatient little one, aren’t ya?” He rasps out. 

Your hips move faster at his words, trying to will yourself to say something, anything, but you can’t. He notices your effort. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby, hm?”

And with that — with the notion that he’ll take care of you with anything you need — you completely fall. “Y- yes,” you moan out, “Da- fuck- daddy’s got me.”

Ah, there she is. Daddy’s girl. His back straightens so he’s towering over you more. He grabs your jaw tightly while you continue to pleasure yourself on his dick, forcing you to hold his stare. “Oh, sweet girl, daddy’s always gonna give ya what ya need. Promise, baby. Now be the good little girl I know you are and cum for me.”

You can feel him meet every movement of your hips, coaxing your high out of you faster than you realize. The wet, squelch your pussy makes every time you suck him in is enough to make him release his load, but he won’t. Not until you’ve came more times than ever before, not until you’re left completely fucked dumb. 

He snakes his hand down to the front, reaching for your clit, using his thumb to make mind-numbing, calculated circles. Your back arches at the sensation, head thrown back, and he brings his other free hand to the back of your neck to pull you closer into him. He ravishes your neck all over, sucking and biting all your weak spots, your pulse points, only to run his tongue over it in soothing motions, getting even more worked up at the marks that’ll form tomorrow. Then, he rips your shirt right in half, letting it fall to the ground. So much for makin’ you change, he thinks. He brings his mouth lower and lower, sucking one of your nipples in between his teeth, throwing you over the edge.

Your vision goes white, your entire body goes rigid, and your pussy uncontrollably flutters around his dick as he peppers your neck and chest with more kisses while you come back down. 

Your body is now soft and pliant, fully ready for whatever more Joel is going to give you. Your head is still high up in the clouds, and it will be for a while, but he always knows how to take care of you. You feel him slowly lift you off his dick and you hear him groan as he looks down. 

“God fucking damn, doll, look at you all over me. Such a fuckin’ mess.”

Your face heats up immediately, “I- I’m sorry, daddy, I-”

He grabs your jaw again and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. He pulls away bringing your bottom lip with him until he lets go, letting it fall back into place, now wet with his spit. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize for that. You made daddy so proud, baby. So much so that you’re gonna do it again for me,” he says as he squeezes your ass cheek. 

You squeak out a gasp and a breathy please. He stands up and makes his way to his bedroom with you still wrapped around him like a koala. 

Immediately he throws you on the bed, and before you’re able to scramble up towards the pillows, he’s already pushing you up by the thighs and kneeling between your spread legs. 

He releases one thigh for a quick second and holds his hand out, “Pillow, baby.” It takes your blissed mind one moment to register, but as soon as it does, you don’t waste a second, grabbing the pillow next to your head and eagerly handing it to him. He takes the pillow and taps your thigh twice, signaling for you to lift up. He secures the pillow under your hips then brings both his large hands back to the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs up so you’re nearly folded in half, giving him complete access to your dripping heat. 

If there’s one thing about Joel Miller, it’s that he loves to make a fucking mess. You thought your first sensation would be one flat lick up your cunt, but instead you feel warmth. Wet and warm and everywhere, and finally you realize, he let his mouth fill with spit only to absolutely drench you with it. Once he’s satisfied with his mess only then does he dive into you like a man starved. Licking and pushing into your slit while the tip of his nose rubs against your clit has you climaxing in an instant, your back arching and your hips lifting as much as they can with the weight of his hands on your thighs keeping you in place. 

He lets one hand slowly slide off your thigh and up your belly until he reaches one of your tits, switching between grabbing your entire breast and pinching your nipple. He continues to lick at you and circle your clit with his tongue until you’re a complete whining mess from the overstimulation. “Daddy, please,” you moan. 

He lifts his head, eyes as black as ever, “I’ve got you, princess, you can take it.” He reluctantly breaks away from your cunt and kisses his way up your body, taking his time with sloppy, open mouthed kisses near your hip bone and your sternum, knowing those areas drive you crazy the most. He makes sure to bite a little extra hard in some areas on his journey up, knowing you love to admire all the marks and bruises he makes on you. 

He sucks another bruise right underneath your jaw, making you push up into him more, while his hands continue to wander and grasp every part of your body that he can. Finally he reaches your mouth and gives you a sweet, long kiss to your mouth, distracting you enough that you don’t see him reach for the vibrator in the nightstand beside the bed. You feel him slide his hand back down your body, but you still don’t realize the vibrator’s presence until you feel the buzz directly on your clit. 

Out of pure reaction, your hand flies to the nape of his neck and tugs sharply, all while obscenities fall pathetically from your mouth, “Oh- f-fuck, daddy, yes! J-just like that, please, please don’t stop…” The quick-paced, blinding pleasure builds so fast it cuts off your dirty mouth and reduces you down to moans and gasps and whines of daddy, daddy, daddy. 

He slips two fingers into your pussy, sliding in with so much ease with how wet you are from a combination of your cream and his spit, all while he uses his other hand to push the vibrator into your bundle of nerves. 

You don’t know whether it has been one minute or one hour of this, but all you know is that you’ve got sweat lining your forehead, beading down your body, and you absolutely can’t take the buzzing pleasure with the constant come-here motion with his fingers anymore, you have to let go. Although this time, it feels different than the rest of the times Joel has made you cum. This time… this time it feels like- you have to pee? 

Immediately you start to panic and try to break away from his hold, unable to allow yourself to fucking pee all over him. “Daddy, wait! Please stop.. it- it feels different, like I.. I think I’m gonna pee..” you gasp, trying to articulate your thoughts while he continues his torture on your cunt. 

His eyes go wide and it immediately registers for him, “Fuck, baby, don’t worry about that, just let go. Come on, daddy’s got you. You trust me?” 

You hesitate for a moment, but still, you know the answer, “Y-yes, daddy.” 

“Good, my princess. Cum for me, fuckin’ soak me. I told you I wanted another fuckin’ mess,” he demands and fucks you even harder with his fingers and increases the pressure of the vibrator. 

You all but scream, definitely sure the neighbors can hear you, but you don’t give a fuck with the fireworks erupting behind your eyes and all throughout your body. Your body is still convulsing and you’re sure you’ve gone unconscious for a moment, but what brings you back to the Earth is the feeling of a warm, flat tongue licking you all over, cleaning you up. Then another sensation hits you: your bottom half is completely fucking drenched. You muster up all the strength you can to open your eyes and look down to see what’s going on. 

You see your big, broad man licking you up so sweetly, but from his mouth down he is also absolutely soaked, down to the collar of his dark green shirt he was wearing. 

Holy fuck. You fucking squirted. That was new. And with Joel’s reaction to it, you’re definitely sure that’s not gonna be the last time he pulls that out of you. 

He doesn’t realize you’re up again until you’re softly calling his attention back up to you and not your pussy. He makes eye contact with you, and his eyes fucking sparkle. Yeah, there’s no way this was a one time kind of thing. He sits back up on his haunches and strips himself of his shirt. He never pulled his jeans back up from when you used him to get off in the living room, so his dick has been patiently waiting for attention since your last two orgasms. 

He strips himself completely at the bottom half, too, leaving you with a perfect view of his toned chest, softer middle, and bulging arms and shoulders. Your cunt, all used and abused, fucking clenches on nothing at the naked sight of him. Of course, he fucking notices. 

“Oh, my poor baby. She’s just fuckin’ beggin’ to be filled, huh?” His southern drawl always intensifies whenever he gets spurred on like this. And, fuck, if it doesn’t make you fold more than you already do. 

You whine at his words and spread your legs even wider for him to see what’s rightfully his. 

“Just beggin’ to get pumped full of my fuckin’ cum, huh, princess? Is that what she wants? That what my babygirl wants?” 

“Please, daddy! Yes, that’s what I- what I need, daddy… need you ins- fuck- need you inside, daddy,” you ramble out, already fucked stupid but still begging for more. He situates himself on top of you, stopping your begging with a harsh kiss that leaves your already swollen lips throbbing. “Shhh, I’m gonna give you what you need, darlin’,” and he kisses you one more time as he begins to notch his tip at your entrance. 

He hooks his arm underneath your knee, hiking your one leg up higher to open you completely. You feel him start to push in deeper, and neither of you can help the initial gasp of how good it feels to be consumed by one another. He leans down again to kiss you, unable to get enough of your lips on his, and you bring your hand back up to the back of his head, keeping him close to you, feeling the exact same way. 

He completely bottoms out into you then, his breathing labored and you, a whimpering mess. No matter how many times you two have fucked, his sheer size always makes you feel like it’s the first time. He stays still to let you get used to the feeling again. You both lay there for a few minutes, kissing and consuming each other’s breaths and moans while he gives you rhythmic little grinds to stimulate your clit. Your pussy is sobbing at this point, enough wetness has accumulated that he’s able to slide right out until just the tip is in you and he pushes right back in, hard. 

He fucks you hard, maintaining this rhythm for a while, completely consumed by the way you wrap around him so perfectly. What started off as one leg hiked up around him turned into a complete mating press, giving you the maximum sensation of his length and girth pumping in and out of you. He always gets so foul-mouthed whenever you two end up in this position, not that you’d ever complain because you love hearing that rough, sexy Southern drawl utter absolute filth that only your ears will ever get to hear. 

“Fuck, darlin’, it’s like she was fuckin’ made for me. Wrapped around my cock, so fucking tight and warm. I could spend fuckin’ forever here wrapped up in your tight fuckin’ cunt,” he groans. 

“All for you, daddy, always,” you respond, purposefully squeezing your pussy tight in time with your words. That drives him absolutely fucking crazy that he pulls his arm upwards in between your legs that are resting on his torso and brings his hand up to wrap around your throat. “Say it again,” he growls, “tell me who the fuck this pussy belongs to, baby.” He squeezes the sides of your neck tighter, creating an even lighter sensation in your head coupled with the submissive daze you’ve been in since you got here. 

“F-fuck, d-daddy- shit,” you can’t focus on anything but the way he feels wrapped around your neck while balls deep inside of you. 

“Darlin’ girl,” he warns, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

You sob out, willing your body to respond to him, willing your body to obey, “Th- this pussy belongs t- to-“ you take a breath, “to you, daddy, only you. Forever.” 

He releases your throat and pulls your legs down from the mating press, wrapping them around his waist instead. He places one hand at the back of your head and the other on the headboard, then kisses you furiously before breaking away, “God damn f-fuckin’ right, princess. All fuckin’ mine to do whatever I fuckin’ want.” And with that, he’s slamming into you, his hand on the headboard in a (wasted) attempt to save the wall from the constant banging. 

“Touch that pretty little clit, princess,” he breathes out, chasing his own release now with the sole intention of marking you with his seed. One hand still on his neck, the other snakes down to rub your clit in fast, messy circles, your body begging to cum for a fourth time tonight. “Daddy,” you whine out again, the honorific clearly being your only vocabulary for tonight. 

“I know, honey, I know,” he coos, “Cum for me, mama, and I’ll fill you up right fuckin’ now,” he sucks on your bottom lip, “You want that, baby? To be pumped full of me?” He knows your answer, yet he still asks anyway knowing how much his words affect you. 

“Please, God, yes, fill me up… I need your cum so fucking badly, I need to feel you, please,” you beg, only spurring him on more. 

With both of your mouths spilling such dirty words, his lips anywhere they can reach with the combination of you playing with your clit and him pounding into you, your body enters the astral plane yet again for the fourth time tonight. Though, this time, you force your body to come back down, so you can feel his warmth spill into you. 

It only takes but a few more thrusts after you climax for him to follow suit, roaring out as hot, thick ropes of cum spill into you, overflowing and dripping out of your sore cunt. He slowly pulls out, labored breathing, sits back up and just watches. Watches as your pussy clenches to keep him locked inside of you, watches as his load drips down your folds over your tight, little asshole. Another day, he thinks to himself with a smirk. 

He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until his fingers are engrossed in the thick combination of your releases. You moan out at the sensitivity of your pussy, but Joel doesn’t care. He slips his middle and ring finger in, feeling just how much he filled you up. And before you know it, he’s pumping in and out of you yet again, his eyes completely focused on your glistening sex, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that has you fluttering for another fucking release. 

“Ahh,” you hiss, not knowing whether you want him to stop or keep going. He uses his other hand to rub on your clit. Fuck. Yeah, okay, you want him to keep going. “Shit, daddy, I’m gonna cum again,” you say as you scramble to get ahold of the bedsheets. 

Joel’s gaze breaks away from your cunt to look at you, he smirks like the devil, “Oh, yeah, honey? Gonna give me another one? Come on, baby, I know you have it in you,” he slips a third finger inside. You whine at the stretch. “One more mess, baby, and then I’ll take care of you, I gotcha,” he says for comfort. 

You’re nearing the point where you guys usually begin to transition into aftercare, and he knows. He always knows. But he also knows that today you need a little extra push, so he gives it to you. 

The thrusts of his fingers don’t come to a stop, but they exponentially slow. “Give me a color, mi amor,” he softly encourages. Even with your erratic breathing, you’re able to force out, “Oh my god, daddy, green, green, green, please go faster, just like before, please-” 

He quickly leans forward and stops your blabbering with a chaste kiss and chuckles when he pulls back, “My god, I love you so much, princess.” Then his fingers pick back up to the speed you were so desperately loving before, his and your cum leaking out all over the inside of your thighs. 

“Fuck, daddy, I love you so fucking much, fuck, thank you, thank you,” you cry out. A few more pumps and a few more circles to your clit and you’re cumming for the fifth (and final) time tonight. Joel groans at the way you finish on his fingers, and it’s his mouth that blabbers out this time.

“Shit, baby, yes, soak my fuckin’ fingers, let me feel you, fuck-” He’s so enthralled at the sight before him, he doesn’t hear you pleading for him to stop pushing in and out until the honorific fades, “Baby, baby, baby,” you frantically breathe. 

He makes eye contact with you again and realizes how caught up he was in you. “Oh, darlin’, shit, I’m sorry, mi amor. What’s your color, baby? Fuck, I’m sorry-” 

It’s you this time who forces your entire wobbly body to push up and meet him in a bruising kiss. “Stop, daddy,” you say with a lilt in your tone, signaling to Joel that you’re back from subspace. You smirk, “My color is green, cowboy, but I really need you to run me a warm bath now because I can’t move a single muscle with how you had me, baby,” and pull him in once more for another kiss. 

His smugness returns and he pushes you back down on his bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses, forcing sweet out-of-breath giggles from you. “That, I can do, baby. May I join you?”

Your face completely softens, your stresses and worries from the last 24 hours completely nonexistent. “I’d be mad if you didn’t, Miller.” 

The next hour and a half — or until the bath water becomes tepid — is spent with him cherishing your body, washing you with your lavender, oat milk body wash you love so much, ultimately just helping you softly come down from your oxytocin high. 

You’ve never felt more loved, appreciated, or taken care of in your life. He always makes sure your come down is smooth and unnoticeable as you fall from a blissed state of mind to one of pure love and adoration. As long as you have him in your life, you truly believe you have all of what you need. 

As he’s drying your body up and slipping you into one of his t-shirts, your stomach growls… loudly. 

“Darlin’...” 

You pull away from his grasp, jokingly rolling your eyes while smirking, “Yeah, yeah, Miller. Come on. Gotta fill me up again, don’tcha, cowboy?” 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out followed by your name, “Tryna put me in an early fuckin’ grave or what?”

Author’s note - extended: Hi guys! I birthed this little one shot on a Friday night while sippin’ on a glass of whiskey and stressing about the stressful entire week I just had. This isn’t my first time writing, in general, but this is my first time writing with the intention of truly producing a story out of it.. this is also my first story I’m posting, so I’m very nervous. Even if just one other person reads this and enjoys it, that’s all that matters to me <3 I also wanna give a quick thank you to my bestie, who’s an AVID smut reader, for proofreading this. She said, and I quote, “gotta change my panties” and “she’s growling” after reading this LMAOO. So, thank you for that, bestie. I love you with my whole heart.

As with any fic, reblog and comments are very much appreciated!! All feedback is appreciated, too!!! Please do let me know how you liked this, and if there's anything specific I could work to improve, I'd love to know! I hope I did okay for my first actual attempt at smut.

Much love to everyone! <3

.

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[mari-the-bimbo]

Bus stops on dodgy roads

Sukuna x reader

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I know i been gone a while but he’s just a random thought I made into a fanfic! Enjoy! <33

Going to University in a rough area is definitely not for the weak.

Classes finishing at 7 in the evening, studying the notes in the library until 11 because your dorm doesn’t have a desk, meaning you’re waiting at the bus stop in the dead of the night with the local drug dealers, police sirens blaring in the back, but you try to tune it out with ‘like a tattoo by Sade’ blasting your your earphones.

But you just happen to be god’s strongest soldier.

Well.. at least you think you are.

Strangely enough, you do not feel threatened by the drug dealers who wait for the same bus, the silent agreement to mind your own business is mutual.

But more strangely, you notice the drug dealers aren’t here today, so you sit alone at the bus stop, the dry air hitting your face.

“Here all alone sweetheart?” Says a croaky voice in the silence, you turn your gaze to the ugly looking man who reeks of blood and alcohol. You don’t recognise him so you pretend you didn’t hear him, silently praying it’s not your blood splattered next.

You flitch as he snatches your earphones out your ear and throws it to the ground, shit, why did it have to be you?

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me you stupid bitch, how much for a fuck before I make you do it for free”

You subtly reach for your pocket knife and you answer him defensively “I’m not a whore, go ask somebody else”, calling police would be useless, by the time they arrive you’ll already be roadkill.

You watch him seeth at your attitude as you gulp, realising a bit too late that was the wrong move.

You watch a black Bugatti pass, a car you knew probably belonged to an even dodgier person but you were desperate. You throw a rock at the car and scream “HELPPP!!”.

The man only gets angrier as he punches you for drawing attention, you fall to the ground with curses from your mouth but luckily the sleek car halts, before reversing slowly until it’s in front of you.

“g-get up you bitch” the man hurriedly orders, reaching out to pull you up but your new found confidence allows you to kick him before you hurriedly stand up yourself.

Before you can react again, you hear a deep voice boom through the abandoned road’ “Oi”

The black tinted windows of the Bugatti slides down to reveal a tatted man, a bit older than you but scarily handsome nonetheless. The creep’s eyes widens before speaking “Boss! I- I was just going to deal with this bitch becau-“

“Who asked?”

You stare quietly, taking in the interaction between the creep and his boss in the car.

“Did I not order you to report back to me once you were done with the job?” The boss asked. You didn’t even want to guess what the ‘job’ was.

“Sir this bitch got in my way so-“

“Shut up” the boss cut him off before his red eyes connected with yours, a shiver travels down your spine at the contact.

“Leave us alone” he says, you take a step backwards thinking he’s talking to you but realise you’re wrong when the creep walks away shakily.

Your own legs start to shake slightly in realisation of who this man could be.

“Hey pretty girl”

You gulp “Hi s-sir”

A chuckle erupts from the man at your immediate obedience compared to how animalistic you were with the other. “Why you calling me sir, you work for me too?” He asks. You struggle to find words so you simply shake your head.

He keeps eye contact with you as he puts out his cigarette that was hanging from his mouth. “Call me Sukuna”

The leg almost threatened to give in from the shake as he confirms your fears, he was the city’s drug lord Sukuna.

“Thanks Sukuna”

“No worries dear, why don’t you be a good girl and let me drop you home” he asks, you know it’s a command rather than an offer.

“T-thanks but my bus will be here any minute” you reply with a shaky smile.

His gaze is unnerving as he answers “your bus won’t be coming”

Your confused silence allows him to answer the question you were thinking.

He points in the direction that the creepy man left, “You see, I ordered him to kill some rats on that bus, the bus will be terminated in 3..2…”

“What” you whisper in disbelief.

“..1”

You look up at the digital bus stop timer.

“Zero”

‘Service currently unavailable. We apologise for this inconvenience’ the digital screen reads.

You stare back at him in disbelief. He was too good, devilishly good, and you were now putty in his tatted hands. All the questions left on the tip of your tongue disappears, Sukuna only offers an illegally beautiful smile to you.

“Well?” He says, “I really don’t like offering repeating myself dear”

Without missing a beat, you run to the passenger side door and enter the car.

To hell with morals and ethics, when you live in the ghetto, survival is your main priority.

You sit in the luxury leather seats with cowardly stature. Sukuna starts his engine and drives off.

“You know it’s breaks my heart to see a pretty girl like you wait in the cold like that dear” he teases gruffly, a new cigarette hanging from his lips. “Not your first time waiting there is it?”

“No” you reply but then you pause, wait how does he know that?

“How do you-“

“I know my city better than anyone, every corner and.. bus stop” he adds to lighten the mood, you can’t help the small giggle that escaped you, it’s hard not to when your saviour happens to be an big, attractive, clearly untouchable man who smells like oud and leather.

“Think I’m funny doll?” He says with a smile, red eyes still on the road.

“Only a little-” you reply before immediately closing your mouth in fear, you fix your posture when you suddenly remember this isn’t some friend of yours but rather the most powerful man in the city that could easily have your head.

He chuckles, “easy, easy doll. No need to humble me like that”

“Sorry” you say with a meek smile.

He looks at you and back on the road. There was no denying Sukuna found you adorable, you were amusing to him, and what kissable looking lips you had.

“You can joke around with me doll, consider me a friend hm?” He says as his hands move to the back of your neck, stroking it ever so gently, goosebumps quickly rise making the tatted man laugh as you look at him embarrassed.

He parks in the uni dorm car park. Before slowly turning his head towards you, you feel comfortable enough to look him face to face now, you offer him a smile “thank you dropping me off Sukuna… and also saving me back there.. I know he’s one of your man but still-“

Your sentence dies at the back of your throat when his rough hand strokes your cheek, “did it hurt?” He says, he’s serious now. “A bit..” you answer.

Your breath hitches as he leans forwards and presses his mouth to your ear “I’ll take care of him when I get back, you will never see him again, okay?” He says and you nod in understanding of what that entails.

“Such a smart girl” he coos gruffly as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Thank you again Sukuna”

Another smile comes to his handsome face as he tilts his head “and how exactly do you wish to thank me dear?”

You gulp as you stare at the handsome devil, seducing you so easily, you feel embarrassed when he notices your thighs squeezed together, while Sukuna makes a mental note of the dirty things he’s going to do with those plush thighs next time.

He licks his lips, and you unintentionally imitate him. He shakes his head and bites his bottom teeth, he can’t hold back anymore, oh girl.. what have you started?

Suddenly his wet lips press against your own, moulding with the shapes of yours, his sloppy tongue makes sure you can taste the tobacco as you moan at the feeling, he chuckles into your mouth before pulling away.

You pull away with a gasp, he smiles, looking nowhere near as breathless as you, just admiring your beautiful face. He thumb plays with your bottom lip

“Well shit.. You’ve started something I gotta finish doll”

[darksturnz]

† A SINNERS EMBRACE — matthew sturniolo x angel!reader.

SYNOPSIS: Desperate for forgiveness, she stepped into the confession booth, unaware that the very man who was the subject of her dream was on the other side, his ears listening to her confession while his hand was wrapped around his throbbing cock. CONTENTS: heavy religious imagery・semi public masturbation (male!)・perv!matthew・fem!reader・corruption・not proofread WC: 5k

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of St. Mary's Cathedral, casting colorful patterns across the polished wooden pews. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmurs of the congregation as they awaited the start of mass.

In the sacristy, Father Matthew Sturniolo stood before the mirror, adjusting his crisp black cassock. His piercing blue eyes met his reflection, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He ran a hand through his neatly styled curly brown hair, ensuring not a strand was out of place. Satisfied with his appearance, he stepped out into the nave.

As Father Matthew made his way to the altar, his gaze swept over the gathered faithful. His eyes lingered on a young woman seated near the front, her delicate features framed by soft curls held back with a ribbon. She seemed to radiate an innocent purity that drew his attention like a moth to a flame.

He began the service, his rich baritone voice filling the cathedral. His words were honey-sweet, weaving a spell of devotion over the congregation. Yet beneath the pious facade, dark desires stirred within him, hidden from all but himself.

As the mass concluded, Father Matthew descended from the altar, ready to greet his flock. His smile was warm and welcoming, yet his eyes held a calculating gleam as they once again found the young woman. He approached her slowly, his presence seeming to fill the space between them. "Good morning," Father Matthew said softly, his voice like velvet. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Father Matthew, the newest member of our little community here."

He extended his hand, palm up in invitation. "And you are?"

The young woman looked up at him, her wide eyes shining with innocent curiosity. "Y-yes, Father. I'm Y/N, sir. It's nice to meet you." Her small hand rested lightly in his, her skin soft and warm against his own.

Father Matthew smiled, his thumb brushing ever so slightly across her knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, Y/N. I look forward to getting to know you better."

With a final squeeze of her hand, he released her and turned to greet the other parishioners, leaving Y/N flushed and flustered in his wake. One Sunday afternoon, after the congregation had dispersed and the cathedral lay quiet, Father Matthew sought out Y/N in the empty nave. He found her kneeling before a pew, head bowed in prayer. Approaching softly, he cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Y/N," he said gently, "but I couldn't help noticing how deeply you seem to connect with the Lord during services. Your devotion is truly inspiring and I’m sure your parents are very proud."

Y/N looked up, startled, then smiled shyly. "Oh, thank you, Father. I try my best to please them."

Father Matthew nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "Your dedication is admirable, indeed. As your spiritual leader, I feel it's my duty to nurture that spark within you. Perhaps we could arrange some...private Bible studies?"

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion. "Private studies, Father? But wouldn't that be improper?"

A hint of amusement danced in Father Matthew's eyes. "Not at all, dear. In fact, one-on-one instruction allows us to delve deeper into the scriptures together. I assure you, it's a common practice among clergy and their devout followers."

He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Think of it as an opportunity to grow closer to God under my guidance. What do you say, Y/N? Would you be willing to meet with me regularly, just the two of us, to explore the Word?"

As Father Matthew's hand settled upon Y/N's shoulder, a shiver ran down her spine. The gentle pressure sent tingles through her slender frame, making her acutely aware of his proximity. His touch was warm, reassuring, and yet...different. There was a subtle intimacy to it that left her breathless and disoriented.

Y/N's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she struggled to find her voice. "I-I mean...if it's really necessary, Father..." she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between his face and the floor. "But won't people talk if we're alone together?"

Father Matthew's fingers squeezed her shoulder lightly, a silent reassurance. "Let them talk, child. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and sometimes that means challenging societal norms for the greater good,"

"Besides," Father Matthew continued, his voice low and soothing, "our meetings will take place in a secluded area of the rectory. No one will ever need to know."

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind reeling with the implications. A private setting with Father Matthew, away from prying eyes...it felt both thrilling and terrifying. She bit her lip, torn between her desire to please him and her instinctive fear of doing something wrong.

"I...I suppose it would be a good opportunity to learn more about God's word," she ventured finally, trying to sound convincing despite her racing heart. "When did you have in mind for our first session, Father?"

Father Matthew's smile broadened, revealing a glint of approval in his eyes. "How about tomorrow evening, after dinner? I'll make sure to leave a light on for you at the door."

With a nod, Y/N agreed to the clandestine meeting, her heart pounding in her chest. She spent the remainder of the day in a daze, her thoughts consumed by the prospect of being alone with Father Matthew.

As night fell the next day, Y/N found herself standing before the rectory, a mix of trepidation and anticipation coursing through her veins. She knocked softly on the door, her knuckles trembling slightly.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. Father Matthew stood in the shadows, his figure imposing yet inviting. "Welcome, Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Please, come in."

She entered hesitantly, her eyes adjusting to the faint glow of candles scattered throughout the room. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and leather-bound books.

Father Matthew guided Y/N to a plush armchair positioned near a large, ornate desk. "Make yourself comfortable," he instructed, gesturing to the chair. "We have much to discuss tonight."

As she sat down, Y/N noticed a Bible lying open on the desk, its pages marked with a silver bookmark. Her gaze lingered on the ancient text, feeling a sense of reverence wash over her.

Father Matthew settled into a nearby chair, leaning back with an air of relaxed confidence. "Before we begin our study, I'd like to share a personal anecdote," he said, his tone taking on a contemplative quality. "Growing up, I often felt disconnected from the divine. It wasn't until I dedicated myself fully to serving the Lord that I truly started to understand His plan for me."

He fixed Y/N with a piercing stare, his words dripping with conviction.

"I believe that same calling exists within you, Y/N. Tonight, I hope to help you recognize and embrace it."

With those enigmatic words, Father Matthew reached across the desk, his fingers brushing against Y/N's as he handed her the Bible. Their touch sent another jolt of electricity through her, leaving her breathless.

As she opened the book, the weight of the sacred text seemed to press against her palms. Y/N felt a strange connection to the pages, as if they held secrets meant only for her ears.

Father Matthew leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Let's start with a passage that resonates with me," he suggested, pointing to a verse marked in the book. "Psalm 23, verses 3-4. 'He restores my soul; He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake."

Y/N's eyes widened as she read the familiar words, a sense of peace washing over her. She recited the verses aloud, her voice soft and reverent. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me..."

As she spoke, Father Matthew's gaze never wavered from hers, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her skin prickle. When she finished, he nodded approvingly. "Beautifully said, Y/N. Those words offer solace even in the darkest of times."

He paused, studying her face intently. "Tell me, when you pray, what do you usually focus on? Is it asking for blessings, seeking forgiveness, or perhaps longing for a deeper connection with the divine?"

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure how to articulate her feelings. "I guess..."

"...I mostly pray for protection and guidance. For my family's well-being and for not doing anything wrong," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Father Matthew's expression softened, and he reached out to place a comforting hand on her knee. "Those are noble prayers, but remember, the Lord wants a relationship built on trust and openness. Don't be afraid to express your desires and fears to Him."

His touch lingered, sending warmth spreading through Y/N's legs. She found herself leaning into his palm, craving more of that comforting contact.

"Perhaps we can work on expanding your prayer life together," Father Matthew suggested, his voice low and persuasive. "Start by sharing your deepest concerns with me. I'm here to listen and guide you, Y/N."

Y/N took a shaky breath, her heart racing as she considered Father Matthew's offer. The idea of unburdening her innermost thoughts to someone - anyone - felt daunting, yet there was a part of her that yearned for this kind of intimate connection.

"I...I worry about pleasing God," she confessed, her voice trembling. "About not living up to His expectations. Sometimes I feel so small and insignificant compared to His greatness."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she met Father Matthew's gaze. "And then there's the fear of sinning...of doing something terrible and irreparable. It keeps me up at night, wondering if I'm worthy of His love."

Her confession hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability. Y/N waited with bated breath for Father Matthew's reaction, her entire being attuned to his response.

Father Matthew's expression turned solemn, his eyes filled with compassion. "Sin is a heavy burden to carry, Y/N," he acknowledged, his voice a gentle murmur. "But know this: you were born innocent, and it's never too late to seek forgiveness and redemption."

He squeezed her knee reassuringly. "The Lord loves you unconditionally, just as you are. Your worth comes from being His child, not from achieving some lofty standard of perfection."

Leaning forward, Father Matthew rested his forearms on his thighs, bringing their faces closer together. "In fact, it's precisely your humility and willingness to acknowledge your flaws that make your faith all the more genuine and beautiful."

His words washed over Y/N like a soothing balm, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She found herself drawn to his presence, craving the comfort and understanding only he could provide. As Father Matthew's proximity intensified, Y/N's breathing grew shallow. The scent of his cologne mingled with the musty aroma of the old books, creating a heady mixture that clouded her senses.

His warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Remember, Y/N, true strength lies in vulnerability. By sharing your fears and doubts, you're taking the first step towards a deeper, more meaningful relationship with God – and with me."

One of Father Matthew's hands slid from her knee to gently cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin in a tender caress. Y/N's eyelids fluttered closed, savoring the sensation of his touch.

In that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to surrender completely to him – to let go of her inhibitions and simply exist in the safety of his presence. Father Matthew's lips hovered mere inches from Y/N's, the anticipation almost palpable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he inclined his head, allowing their noses to brush together in a fleeting, electric contact. The briefest of sighs escaped Y/N's lips as she savored the closeness, her eyes drifting shut. But before she could process the intensity of the moment, Father Matthew pulled back, breaking the spell.

Opening her eyes, Y/N found him smiling at her with an unreadable mix of tenderness and restraint. "Until next Sunday, Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "May the Lord bless and keep you in the interim."

Rising from his seat, Father Matthew offered her his arm, guiding her towards the door with a gentle pressure. As they walked side by side, Y/N couldn't shake the lingering effects of their intimate encounter. Every step felt weighted, each breath charged with a newfound awareness of Father Matthew's presence beside her.

At the entrance, he paused, turning to face her. In the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows, his features appeared almost ethereal, as if carved from shadows and moonlight.

"Farewell for now, Y/N," Father Matthew said softly, his gaze holding hers captive. "May your dreams be peaceful and your heart remain open to the mysteries of the spirit."

With that, he cupped her cheek once more, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip before releasing her. Then, with a final, enigmatic smile, he stepped back and watched as she disappeared into the night, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the stillness.

As Y/N retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom, the events of the evening swirled through her mind like a tempestuous sea. Father Matthew's touch, his whispers, the weight of his gaze – each detail replayed itself in vivid Technicolor, refusing to be relegated to the realm of memory.

She slipped beneath the covers, her body thrumming with a restless energy. Try as she might, sleep eluded her, replaced instead by a kaleidoscope of forbidden fantasies.

In the darkness, Y/N's imagination ran wild, conjuring scenarios where Father Matthew's hands roamed her body with increasing boldness. She pictured his fingers trailing along her collarbone, dipping into the neckline of her nightgown to tease the sensitive skin beneath.

As the illicit visions intensified, a telltale dampness began to gather between Y/N's thighs.

Exhaustion finally claimed Y/N, her eyelids growing heavy as the fantasy montage continued to unfold behind her closed lids. With a soft sigh, she surrendered to the embrace of slumber, her dreams already tainted by the forbidden allure of Father Matthew.

In the depths of her subconscious, the scenario shifted, becoming more explicit and sensual with each passing moment. Y/N found herself lying on the cold stone floor of the rectory, her nightgown pushed up around her waist as Father Matthew loomed over her, his dark robes pooling around his knees.

His hands, once so reverent, now explored her body with a hunger that made her shiver. Fingers danced across her breasts, teasing the hardened nipples until pleasure-pain shot straight to her core. A whimper escaped her lips, muffled by the priest's mouth as he captured them in a searing kiss.

As the dream intensified, Y/N's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking friction against the damp heat building between her legs. Her hands reached down to press against Father Matthew's, urging him closer, wanting more of his touch.

Moans and gasps punctuated the erotic haze, the sounds muffled by the priest's insistent kisses. He Trailered his mouth down her neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin until Y/N arched off the ground, crying out in ecstasy.

In the throes of her climax, Y/N's vision blurred, colors bleeding together as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She clung to Father Matthew, her nails digging into his arms as she rode out the intense sensations, lost to everything but the bliss consuming her.

Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as if she'd run a marathon. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her nightgown clung to her skin, dampened by the remnants of her climax. For a moment, disoriented and panting, she struggled to anchor herself in reality.

As the fog of sleep lifted, memories of the dream came rushing back, leaving a trail of shame and confusion in its wake. Y/N's cheeks flushed hot, and she buried her face in her pillow, mortified by the intensity of her own desires.

What had possessed her to imagine such things? Father Matthew, the man she trusted above all others, reduced to a participant in her most private, debased fantasies. The thought alone made her stomach churn with self-loathing.

Throughout the day, Y/N moved through her routine with mechanical precision, her mind consumed by the guilt gnawing at her soul. Every time her parents glanced her way, concern etched onto their faces, she couldn't help but wonder if they sensed the turmoil brewing inside her.

The telltale flush on her cheeks seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a constant reminder of the shameful secret she harbored. Each time she caught her reflection in a window or mirror, she flinched, as if the image staring back might hold some hidden clue to her innermost thoughts.

By mid-afternoon, the weight of her confession became unbearable. Y/N excused herself from the kitchen, where her mother was preparing dinner, claiming she needed fresh air. As soon as she stepped outside, however, she found herself drawn inexorably toward the familiar solace of the church.

The imposing stone structure loomed before her, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens like outstretched arms. Y/N hesitated briefly, her hand trembling as she grasped the ornate bronze handle of the massive wooden doors.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed the doors open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty nave. The interior was bathed in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors.

Y/N wandered deeper into the church, her footsteps echoing softly off the walls. Eventually, she found herself standing before the confessional, its wooden screen adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of redemption and forgiveness.

With a sense of trepidation mixed with relief, she knelt before the grated opening, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned..."

Inside the confessional, Father Matthew listened intently as Y/N's hesitant voice filtered through the grate, her words painting a picture of guilt and contrition. His heart raced at the realization that the penitent before him was none other than the innocent, sheltered girl he had grown to care for.

Concealing his true identity, Father Matthew adopted a neutral, soothing tone, meant to provide comfort without revealing his knowledge of her personal life. "My child, please, share your sins with me, and know that you shall receive absolution."

Y/N took a shaky breath before continuing, her voice trembling slightly. "Father, I...I had a dream last night. A wicked dream. I imagined doing sinful things with someone I trust deeply, someone who should never be the subject of such thoughts." She paused, biting her lip.

"It was Father Matthew," Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "In my dream, he touched me in ways no one ever has, and I felt things I shouldn't have felt. Desire, longing...even pleasure when we did things that are wrong."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she confessed, "When I woke up, I was...I was soaked. It was as if my body betrayed me, responding to those forbidden imaginings. I'm ashamed, Father. So terribly ashamed."

Y/N waited with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaited the priest's response, unsure whether he would offer condemnation or understanding.

Inside the confessional, Father Matthew's composure faltered at Y/N's explicit admission. The mere mention of her dream, coupled with the intimate details, sent a surge of arousal coursing through his veins. His cock twitched to life, straining against the confines of his black cassock.

Swallowing hard, he fought to maintain his calm, professional demeanor. "Tell me more, my child," he urged, his voice low and husky despite his best efforts. "Describe this dream in greater detail. What exactly transpired between you and Father Matthew?"

As Y/N began to recount the specifics – the sensation of his hands on her body, the taste of his kisses, the feeling of being taken against the cold stone floor – Father Matthew's erection grew even harder, throbbing with an almost painful intensity.

"Did he touch you intimately?" Father Matthew pressed, his curiosity piqued and his desire escalating with each word from Y/N's lips. "Was there any...physical contact beyond kissing and caressing?"

His fingers tightened around the edge of the confessional booth, imagining the tender flesh beneath Y/N's garments, the softness of her breasts, the warmth of her cunt. The mental images were almost too much to bear, stoking the flames of his lust to a near-blazing inferno.

"Please, continue," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "Every detail is important for your spiritual guidance, my child."

Father Matthew could no longer resist the temptation. With one hand, he unzipped his fly, freeing his throbbing cock from its fabric prison. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, giving it a firm squeeze as he continued to listen intently to Y/N's detailed account of her dream.

As she described the feeling of Father Matthew's cock sliding into her virgin depths, stretching her tight walls, he began to stroke himself in earnest. Slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, he pumped his fist along his length, imagining it was Y/N's slick cunt enveloping him instead.

"Mmmm," he groaned under his breath, the sound muffled behind the wooden screen. His hips rocked in tandem with his hand, thrusting upward as if seeking to bury himself deeper into an imaginary pussy.

Y/N's blush deepened as she recounted the lewd acts from her dream, her voice quivering with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "He...he kissed me everywhere, Father. My neck, my breasts, even between my thighs. And then..."

She paused, her breath catching in her throat as she relived the sensations. "Then, he entered me. It hurt at first, but soon it felt so good. Like nothing l've ever experienced before. I wanted more, even though I knew it was wrong."

Y/N's confession hung heavy in the air, the vivid descriptions painting a scandalous picture in Father Matthew's mind. His cock throbbed painfully, straining against the fabric of his clerical robes. He could hardly believe the depraved thoughts now racing through his head.

Father Matthew's composure slipped further with each salacious detail Y/N revealed. His breathing grew ragged, punctuated by stifled groans as he continued to stroke his aching cock. The once sacred space of the confessional now reeked of sin and debauchery, the air thick with the musk of his arousal.

"Go on," he urged, his voice strained and unsteady. Gone was the calm, reassuring tone of a spiritual guide; in its place was the desperate plea of a man teetering on the brink of self-control. "Tell me everything. Don't leave out a single detail."

Y/N's innocence, her purity, only served to fuel the fire burning within him. He imagined defiling her, corrupting her, molding her into his perfect little slut.

Father Matthew's mind raced with perverse fantasies, each one more depraved than the last. In his twisted imagination, he saw himself bending Y/N over the altar, tearing away her flimsy dress to reveal her nubile body. He pictured her on her knees before him, those innocent eyes wide with shock as she took his cock into her mouth, gagging on his length.

The thought of claiming her virginity, of being the first and only man to plunge into her untouched depths, drove him wild with lust. He stroked faster, harder, chasing the release that seemed just out of reach.

Father Matthew's resolve crumbled like a house of cards, the soft sniffles emanating from Y/N proving to be his undoing. The sound of her guilt, her shame, only served to heighten his own dark desires, pushing him over the precipice of restraint.

With a strangled cry, he erupted, his seed spilling forth in hot, pulsing spurts. Ropes of cum painted the inside of the confessional, splattering against the wood in obscene patterns. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the waves of his climax, each twitch sending another burst of semen from his spasming cock.

As the haze of orgasm slowly dissipated, Father Matthew slumped back in his seat, his chest heaving with exertion. He quickly tucked his spent member back into his cassock, zipping up his fly with shaking hands.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Father Matthew tried to compose himself, to slip back into the role of the compassionate priest. "My child," he began, his voice still slightly rougher than usual, "you mustn't blame yourself for these dreams. They are merely manifestations of your natural, God-given desires, warped by the influence of the world outside our holy sanctuary."

He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "What matters most is that you recognize the sinfulness of such thoughts and actions. Repentance is key, and you've already shown great courage in confessing these impure urges."

Father Matthew's mind raced, torn between his vows and his growing obsession with Y/N. He knew he should steer her towards prayer, fasting, and increased devotion to ward off these temptations.

Father Matthew's heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears as he grappled with the conflicting emotions swirling within him. The urge to lead Y/N astray, to encourage her down a path of sin and debauchery, warred with his duty to guide her towards righteousness.

In the end, his own twisted desires won out. Leaning closer to the screen separating them, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen closely, my child. While these feelings may seem unnatural, even sinful, I assure you that they are perfectly normal for a young woman of your age and disposition."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "God created us with these desires, these needs. To deny them entirely would be to go against His divine plan."

Father Matthew's voice dropped to a husky murmur, his words dripping with barely restrained lust. "If you were to act upon these urges, to explore the pleasures of the flesh with a willing partner, I don't believe the Lord would hold it against you. After all, He gave us these bodies to enjoy, to revel in their sensations."

He shifted in his seat, his spent cock already beginning to stir again at the thought of guiding Y/N into the world of carnal delights. "Should you ever find yourself tempted to cross that line, know that Father Matthew is there to offer his support, his...guidance. Together, you can navigate this treacherous terrain, ensuring that your journey remains safe and fulfilling."

Father Matthew's mind raced with possibilities, visions of stolen moments and illicit encounters dancing behind his eyes.

Father Matthew's mind raced with possibilities, visions of stolen moments and illicit encounters dancing behind his eyes. He imagined taking Y/N's hand, leading her away from the confessional and into a secluded corner of the church. There, in the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows, he would show her the true meaning of pleasure.

His fingers twitched with the urge to touch her, to explore every inch of her nubile form. He pictured her gasping beneath him, her body writhing in ecstasy as he claimed her innocence, molding her into his perfect little plaything.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock at the brazen words, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. She squirmed uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, her thighs pressing together as a strange warmth blossomed between her legs.

"I...I don't understand, Father," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and budding desire. "Isn't giving in to such thoughts and urges considered a grave sin? Won't God punish me for entertaining such wicked notions?"

Despite her words, Y/N couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at the idea of exploring these forbidden desires. The taboo nature of it all sent a shiver down her spine, awakening something primal and hungry within her.

Father Matthew leaned closer, his breath ghosting across the screen separating them. "Oh, but that's where you're mistaken, my dear. God understands our human nature, our need for connection and intimacy. He doesn't expect us to live as celibate monks, denying ourselves the joys of the flesh."

His voice dropped to a seductive purr, each word dripping with sinful promise. "No, He wants us to embrace these desires, to revel in them with a loving partner. And who better to guide you on this journey than your humble priest?"

Father Matthew's mind raced with wicked thoughts, imagining all the ways he could corrupt Y/N.

With a trembling voice, Y/N thanked the mysterious priest for his guidance and understanding. "Thank you, Father, for hearing my confession and offering such wise counsel. Your words have brought me comfort and clarity."

She rose from the bench, smoothing her skirt with nervous hands. As she made her way out of the confessional, Y/N's mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions - confusion, curiosity, and a simmering undercurrent of excitement.

On the walk home, Y/N found herself replaying the priest's words in her head, trying to reconcile them with everything she'd been taught about the evils of lust and temptation. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't shake the image of the handsome priest who haunted her dreams.

Father Matthew remained seated in the confessional long after Y/N had departed, his mind reeling from their encounter. The scent of her lingering perfume filled his nostrils, mingling with the musk of his own arousal.

He palmed his hardening cock through his cassock, biting back a groan as he recalled the way her voice had quivered with a mix of innocence and burgeoning desire. The thought of corrupting her, of guiding her down a path of sin and depravity, consumed his every waking thought.

Rising from his seat, Father Matthew emerged from the confessional, his gaze drawn to the spot where Y/N had stood mere moments ago. A wicked smile played across his lips as he plotted his next move, determined to make the innocent girl his own personal plaything.

AUTHORS NOTE: first chapter >.<!! i rewrote this one a good four times and ultimately cut the wc from 16k to 5k... she’s a bit rushed but i’d like to get the boring details out of the way.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch

[tsukimefuku]

that's spooky af, honey :: jjk characters

They’re not the biggest fans of horror movies, but they might make an exception just for you - feat. Gojo, Toji, Nanami, Higuruma, Kusakabe, Shoko

cw: gender neutral reader, crack, comedy, i’m flexing here so some ooc, and a lot of fluff. roughly proofread. notes etc.: happy spooky season, guys 🎃 Entry for the spookinky event.

⛧ GOJO SATORU

(The Exorcist - 1973)

It was a very hot night. The type of night in which even mosquitoes could drop dead from the heat at any second. It felt like you were in an oven, so surely, it made no sense that your boyfriend, Satoru, kept you in the death grip of his hug like a koala hanging from a tree.

A pretty desperate koala latched with his abdomen to your back.

“Toru, please, I can’t breathe,” you insisted, trying to move his hands from your waist just to get a few inches back of freedom. It backfired, and he tightened all around you. 

“You don’t, babe,” he cooed, nuzzling around the sweaty nape of your neck, “you just need to be here.” 

He sounded cuddly, definitely a little clingy, but you thought it was cute how after you both turned off the classic rendition of The Exorcist, Satoru gripped you and didn’t let go since.

You huffed, accepting defeat. 

“Okay, but I need to at least drink some water and I also need to go to the bathroom,” you told him, shuffling around over the bed sheets.

Satoru didn’t flinch, still gripping on you like you were the last flatscreen on sale during a Black Friday. 

“Satoru.”

Your voice contained a warning (a warning coming mostly from your bladder). 

“Go in the morning! It’s so cozy,” he whined, letting go from you just enough for you to slightly turn back and look at his messy white hair covering his playful blue eyes, which decorated a remarkably adorable pout.

It would be cuter if you weren't on the verge of peeing yourself on the bed. 

“It’s not! Satoru, it’s searing hot, we’re both drenched and I need to pee!” 

Satoru pressed a quick kiss to your lips and rested his mouth over your hair. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sir, you’re not the boss of my pee.”

He chuckled softly and made it abundantly clear he wouldn’t let you go willingly.

“Oh, I’m not getting a urinary tract infection because you’re too scared to be in the room alone after a cheesy horror movie!” you protested while chuckling back, starting to wrestle around with him, failing miserably to free yourself from the giant’s grip, “I have to go to the bathroom now!” 

“Then I’ll go with you!” he conceded, finally freeing your waist and jumping himself up off the bed with a grin.

You sighed with a half smile on your face at his antics. 

“Dear Lord Almighty.”

—

⛧ FUSHIGURO TOJI

(Hereditary - 2018)

You had barely managed to get around the second isle in the grocery store before your phone started blowing up with calls. You had left Toji watching a horror movie while Megumi was napping in his own room as you took a quick run to the shop. You had forgotten to buy a few things for dinner earlier that day. 

Your phone had already vibrated a few times, the tell-tale sign you got fired up with quite a few text messages.

“Yes, Toji?” you said while answering the phone, “I left you watching a movie and just came down quick to get some groceries, what’s up?” 

“The movie is finished,” Toji answered in his characteristically nonchalant way, but offered no further explanation. 

“I still have some things to grab around here. How’s Megumi?” 

“He’s fine, I’m in his room. He’s still sleeping.” 

“Oh, good.” 

You had committed to memory the way Toji would every night sit on little Megumi’s end of the bed, and silently look at him before smiling and leaving his room. He never connected the dots of how you would always, somehow, need something from the kitchen during that same time, just to walk by the door and see them both.

However, this was too early for his nightly ritual. Megumi was sure to wake up from his nap soon.

Then, a thought crossed your mind. 

“Toji.” 

“What?” 

“Are you scared? After the movie? That’s why you’ve been texting and calling me like crazy?”

He scoffed on the other side of the line. 

“Of course not, I’m not a little kid.” 

You kept silent for a few moments, and he didn’t say anything else, still lingering on a bated breath. 

“Well, if that’s the case, then I think I’ll just run to the convenience store quickly and get us some-” 

“No! Just come home already,” he complained, and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Only if you ask nicely.” 

Toji groaned.

”Please, babe, come home and let’s eat dinner.” 

“Fine, I’ll be back in ten.” 

—

⛧ NANAMI KENTO

(It - 2017)

A ritual you and Nanami had after you broke your leg — and got prescribed lots of bed rest for that — was watching a different movie every night before sleeping. 

You’d usually doze off shortly after while your husband would keep reading his books by himself, in his own personal nightly routine. He’d make good use of that extra time he was always awake to get a water jug from the kitchen and leave it by your side, just in case you felt thirsty during the night (which, to be fair, you always did).

This time, however, after watching the “It” remake of 2017, you weren't feeling quite sleepy, so you decided to doom scroll on your phone while your husband read. 

You did notice a funny thing, though.

An hour had passed, and he hadn’t moved from the bed.

“Kento,” you called, blocking your phone’s screen and looking at him.

He put his hand over your thigh softly, not to disturb the cast under the knee that was already propped up comfortably by a pillow, and kept reading, holding his book with his other hand.

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“Aren’t you going to get the jug of water for the night?” 

“Soon,” Nanami replied, his eyes making the quickest glance down the dark corridor, so quick you barely noticed, “soon.” 

“Ken, honey, I’m getting thirsty,” you cooed, resting your hand over his.

He looked over to you and put his book with open pages down on the nightstand.

“I apologize, darling,” he replied, leaning over and planting a soft kiss on your lips. “Would you mind if I just finished this chapter?”

His voice sounded so velvety and sweet, honestly, how could you say no?

“No problem,” you replied, and he smiled before sitting back and pulling his book into his hands again. However, once more, his eyes glanced down the dark corridor.

“Kento, I have a quick question, though. I promise not to keep interrupting your reading.” 

“You can interrupt me whenever you want. What is it?” 

“Why do you keep staring down the corridor?”

Nanami was clearly taken aback, even if he attempted to feign nonchalance.

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

“Oh, come on, you do…” you began, right before the realization dawned on you.

“Kento, did you get spooked from the movie?”

Nanami turned his head to look at you, but his expression was not exactly surprised. He seemed more like a kid who had been caught stealing cookies from the jar before dinner time.

“Excuse me?” 

“Light of my life, you never take this long to get the jug, and also, you are staring at that dark corridor. I’m sure of it.” 

“I will get it, right after I finish the chapter,” he replied with little to no conviction in his voice, “and you’re always fast asleep when I do. How do you know how long I usually take?”

You stared at him, in all his 6 feet tall glory, and bit down a chuckle. 

“I didn’t know you were afraid of clowns,” you said, trying not to grin. 

“Darling, I’m not afraid of clowns,” Kento replied sounding slightly offended while he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, let me go get your water.”

Nanami put his book down, walked towards the room’s door, but didn’t fail to take a second before turning the corridor’s light on prior to walking towards the kitchen. You heard the kitchen’s light being turned on too.

Shortly after, he was back. Nanami put the water jug accompanied by a cup on your nightstand, and laid down.

“Thanks, Ken. Good night, I love you.”

“Good night. I love you too, darling.”

There was still something off, though.

“Ken, why are we sleeping with the night lamp on?”

He pretended to not hear you.

—

⛧ HIGURUMA HIROMI

(The Shining - 1980)

You had noticed it happening for the past hour of the movie you were both watching, The Shining. Hiromi wasn’t someone very vocal about his discomforts, but his body would occasionally betray him. 

With each passing twenty minutes or so, you noticed your fiancée had inched himself closer and closer to you, with the feeble excuse that he wanted to be closer to the popcorn. His hand was diving in the pot, picking a single popcorn at a time, as the rain tapped violently against your windows.

His eyes were glued to the screen, and for a second, you couldn’t quite remember the last time he had blinked ever since the movie started. 

“Hiro,” you whispered at him, “are you enjoying the movie?”

Hiromi simply nodded, not looking away from the screen. 

“Are these actual ghosts or is Jack just going insane?” he asked just below his breath, putting another single unit of popcorn in his mouth. 

“I mean, going from the book, the Overlook Hotel is haunted,” you whispered, “but Kubrick wanted to dive more into that psychological aspect of the horror. Stephen King really hated this movie,” you concluded, shoving a handful of popcorn in yours. 

“Did he? Why?” 

“Mostly because the hotel should be the corrupting factor, Jack wasn’t supposed to be cuckoo crazy from the start like Kubrick made him to be,” you replied with your mouth full.

Hiromi huffed, blinking for the first time in God knows how many minutes. 

“I guess no one is, truly.”

You smiled and laid your head on his shoulder, cozying up against Hiromi’s body warmth. 

“Oh, this one’s good,” you stated, heightening his already sharp attention to the events unfolding in front of him.

This was the scene where Hallorann, the cook, went back to the hotel after Danny managed to ask him for help. By this point, Jack was already roaming through the Overlook with his signature axe and well, what would happen was pretty obvious, but still.

Hallorann came walking down the corridor, his steps against the linoleum floor being the only sound filling the space. The tension grew, Danny’s face in the dark showed up, and you propped yourself for the big jump scare.

However, at the very moment Jack jumped into the frame bearing his axe…

The lights in the entire house went out.

You didn’t get a second to process it, though. Before you knew it, the popcorn bowl flew over, meeting its fateful end on the ground, popcorn spread all over you both and the floor, the blanket you and Hiromi were both under became a crumpled messy ball while falling over. He yanked you over with his arms around you so violently your lungs struggled for a second. To call that a hug would be sugar coating it (a lot).

Hiromi was holding onto you for dear life.

The power took a few seconds to come back, and when it did, you realized he had his eyes sewn shut, opening them softly as light hit his eye lids. 

It took you a few labored breaths to ask, 

“Do you want to watch something els-“ 

“Yes.”

—

⛧ KUSAKABE ATSUYA

(Cabin in the woods - 2011) 

“Get up!” was the only thing you heard before falling off the side of the bed in utter disorientation. Seconds before, you had been sleeping peacefully, and your boyfriend, Kusakabe, should’ve been by your side.

However, as you regained your senses, you saw him standing with his back against the wall beside the bedroom door, in the dark, holding onto his katana. 

“Atsuya, what happened?” you inquired, still half dazed, but adrenaline definitely kicking in from the way he was carrying himself. Alert signs went up in your mind. 

“There’s something in the house,” he whispered urgently, signaling for you to pick up your weapon too.

Your sorcerer instincts came fully awake and you pulled your dagger from the bedside table, walking towards him in a crouch. 

“What grade do you think it is?” you asked, looking up at him. 

Apart from him being like this, though, you didn’t sense anything. Not yet.

Before answering you, he darted himself out of the bedroom — something considerably uncharacteristic for him — and you followed him, alert and confused. 

“The assistants, and the lab, they-“ you heard Kusakabe mumbling to himself as he was walking around the house, “always giving me more work. Them and the teens, no one can do their work right, shit.” 

… What now? 

“Atsu, what are you talking about? Where’s the curse?” you insisted, “what grade is it? What is it like? Should I call Gojo?” 

You were now definitely starting to feel the pain in the back of your neck and the base of your back from falling off the bed. 

“No, we can handle it ourselves, we always have to, no one knows how to do their job and-“ the senseless mumbling ensued, “and the merman…”

Oh, no. You finally realized what was going on.

Irritation instantly hit you, and you walked towards Kusakabe, yanking his katana from his hands, looking very seriously at the sorcerer before chastising him. 

“You gotta be kidding me! You woke me up in the middle of the night and scared me half to death because of a nightmare?!”

He blinked multiple times, shaking his head, and looked back at you. 

“You’re not listening, the merman-“ 

”There is no merman, love of mine,” you replied, sighing and pinching the bridge of your nose, “this was one of the monsters in the movie we watched before going to sleep. The one where there is a lab, and monsters, and young uni students going on a trip, being idiots and getting killed… Don’t you remember?” 

After a few seconds, the realization finally dawned on him, and he put his hand on his forehead. 

“There is no merman?” 

“There is no merman, Atsuya. I promise.”

You had to hold down a laugh before leading a very confused Kusakabe back into the bedroom, tucking him for a — hopefully — calm night of sleep.

—

⛧ IEIRI SHOKO

(The Autopsy of Jane Doe - 2016)

Your girlfriend had the pokerest of poker faces. So you didn’t expect her to be jumping around from fright or anything of the sort.

However, the cigarette she let burn out completely untouched, still hanging from her mouth, betrayed just how scared shitless she was. The entire thing had become one continuous trail of ashes that ended on her lips, and funnily enough, it hadn’t fallen.

Yet.

Discreetly, you picked up the ashtray from the coffee table and hovered it under the cigarette, just in time for the tube of ashes to fall perfectly down in it.

Still, no movements from your girlfriend. 

You waved your hand in front of her face, but she just stood there, sitting down in the exact same position she had been ever since the movie started, like a marble statue.

“Shoko, sweetheart, are you okay?” 

Shoko only hummed what could be interpreted as a “yes” in return, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. Trying to ease her out of the fear, you tried joking a little. 

“So, this cursed corpse is kind of different from the ones Principal Yaga makes, hm? His are cuter, for sure.”

Another soulless mm-hmm came out, and you wondered if you had maybe taken this horror night a little too far. She did autopsies for a living, after all. Perhaps this was too close to home. 

“Honey? Love?” 

No response. 

“Do I have to call Gojo to pull you out of this?”

This finally elicited a you can’t be serious right now response from her, and it eased your worries, even if just a little.

Picking up the remote, you paused the movie, and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Shoko, would you like to watch something else?”

She sighed, seemingly relieved, and turned her face to yours. 

“I want to watch my actual autopsies videos. Like, ones without curses in them.” 

You chuckled softly before planting a tender kiss on her lips. 

“You’re weird. Of course, love you.”

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[cherubfae]

𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 || {𝔞𝔨𝔞𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔨𝔦}

They're now realizing what a mistake it was to introduce you to the group, now they have competition with their own teammate.

tags: former ninja!reader, gn! civilian reader, established relationships, threats, violence, protective!akatsuki, slightly suggestive in Sasori's || MINORS DONT INTERACT

Pain

He knows that Konan is harmless and she's not the sort of disrespectful person to go sniffing about where she doesn't belong, especially where he and his partner are concerned. Pain, however, cannot tolerate the lingering touches Konan gives you as she passes by. Her hand brushing yours, guiding you with an arm around your shoulders, and blushing at you. He feels a warning is warranted.

"You are my dear friend, Konan, I have known you many years, but this simply won't do. You are better than how you are acting. Be respectful and leave them alone, and I won't need to inflict pain upon you."

Konan

Oh, well isn't this troublesome. Konan isn't the type to make idle threats, but Pain is her commander and leader. That would not be a wise decision on her part, but she does trust her long-time friend to be somewhat respectful and not place you in any situation where you would be uncomfortable. She's not above putting her foot down if she really must.

"Sir, with all due respect, my partner isn't interested and we would both appreciate you to mind your manners."

Obito

You are his everything. He would destroy the entire world for you. Level mountains, tame seas, there isn't anything he wouldn't do as long as it's within his power. He's pretty surprised that Zetsu even took a liking to you, as he's not one that's expressed interest in most anything other than his eating habits.

"Surely Zetsu is mistaken. My partner isn't a corpse for you to munch on you, nor are they yours for the taking. Keep your distance and I won't have to bloody you up too much."

Zetsu

As with anything, both sides of him are at a near constant quarrel with each other. His light side trying to reassure his darker side that Tobi is harmless and doesn't mean anything malicious by taking interest in you.

"Tobi is a good boy, he means no harm." "His harm is his unwarranted interest in our beloved partner. Fool! You have no sense, do you?"

Hidan

Honestly he could laugh so hard he may undo the stitches in his neck. That old fucker wants his partner?? Is he actually serious?

"Haha! That's fucking rich! You've gotta be at least one-hundred by now, huh? Fuck off, geezer! They're not yours!"

Kakuzu

Clearly decapitating Hidan over and over doesn't make him talk any less. Neither does stabbing him-- but it sure does take the edge off. Kakuzu would rather not deal with the younger man's insufferable stubbornness. You are his lover, his alone, and Hidan had no chance in whatever the fuck kind of afterlife his mighty lord Jashin provides. None. Fuck off, Hidan.

"As if they'd want someone as lowly as you. You don't even pay for your own shit. Remember your place or I won't hesitate to remove you from this world permanently. One swipe and your head will be freed from your miserable shoulders. I'm sure all sorts of insects would love to burrow inside of that hollow space."

Itachi

For a moment he's reminded of Sasuke's little schoolboy crush on you, except Kisame isn't Sasuke. He is a grown adult capable of getting in the way of Itachi's livelihood. Threatening the sanctity of his relationship. He's unlikely to do much other than step in if he crosses any boundaries or makes you uncomfortable. So until something is said, it's just this weird, heavy atmosphere. Kisame starts to speak but Itachi cuts him off immediately.

"Keep their name out of your mouth, Kisame. I won't warn you again."

Kisame

Oftentimes he wonders how lonely Itachi is. He annihilated his entire clan save for his younger brother in a single night. He took away everything he loved and for what? He can appreciate Itachi's past but Kisame doesn't take too kindly to the eldest Uchiha brother being a bit too welcoming and protective of his partner.

"Itachi, a word of advice. Don't shit where you eat. And keep your nose out of other's relationships. You're a good, respectable man and I appreciate your concern in my partner's well-being. Let me handle it from here."

Sasori

There's still the age-old artistic view difference between the two: eternal art vs shortlived art. One could argue both have their merits, but even after all these years it was a sore subject between the blonde and redhead duo. And now you were thrown into the mix.

"If you truly think you're so superior to me, Deidara, then perhaps you'd be more open to what a waste your art truly is. My partner prefers eternal, long-lasting, but there's nothing long nor lasting about, is there?"

Deidara

This was great. Jusssst great. Sasori had been hanging around his area of the hideout more and for what, Deidara wasn't sure. Until he recalled that you had been given special permission to visit from Pain himself. You'd forsaken your village long ago and clearly had no interest in reporting them, so it was allowed. Sasori had begun skulking about ever since and the blonde could guess why he might be drawn to you.

"If you even think about turning my partner into a fuckin' puppet, I won't hesitate to kill you, Sasori. No matter which way I go about it, you'll end up in splinters. So, I repeat. Stay the fuck away from them, hmm."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[thegleamingmoon]

Beloved.

Chapter 1 - Meeting you.

🪷✨ ❛ In every world, my heart would bloom for you. In every moment, in every lifetime, amidst the stars and the endless ocean, in every heartbeat and whispered breeze, I would choose you always and forever. ❜ ✨🪷

*********

The golden rays of the early morning sun filtered through the intricate carvings of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple, casting a divine glow upon its magnificent structure. And there she was, draped in a simple yet elegant saree as she walked through the temple's corridors, her footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone floors and like every other day, the air was fragrant with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, as the devotees murmured their prayers, lost in their own worlds of devotion as the girl walked into the inner sanctum, where the majestic form of Lord Padmanabhan lay in eternal slumber.

"Dear lord, please look after the world like you always do. I pray for the good health of my family and dear ones. May you always be with them and keep them happy." This was what she usually prayed for. Nothing more, nothing less. But today was different, she had come here to seek solace in the divine presence of her beloved deity but she still felt restless for reasons unknown.

The strange sensation grew as she moved out from the sanctum to the temple premises, she felt as if someone was watching her. Turning around, her eyes met those of a man standing a few feet away. He was tall and handsome, with an aura of mystery surrounding him. His complexion, very much like the clouds filled with rain and eyes, deep and penetrating that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

"Namaskaram", he greeted her with a warm smile, his voice gentle and calming.

"Namaskaram," she replied, curiosity piqued by this stranger. "Are you new to the this place? I haven't seen you here before."

"Yes, I am new to this city." he said, his eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge. "I’m Aravind. May I know your name?"

"Bhadra. It's nice to meet you, sir", she replied and saw his smile grow wider, making his eyes twinkle with an emotion she couldn't comprehend.

"It's nice to meet you too, Bhadra. And we can drop the formalness." He said as she shyly giggled. It was sweet to hear her name in his beautiful voice. She thought, mentally facepalming to bring herself out of her mind. Something was really wrong with her today.

As they walked through the temple grounds, Bhadra found herself more intrigued, drawn into a conversation with Aravind. They talked about the temple, the city of Thiruvananthapuram, its history, and the legends that surrounded it. He spoke with a depth of understanding that left Bhadra in awe. Hours passed like minutes, and soon the sun began to set, casting an orange hue hue over the temple.

"What brings you here? And how do you know so much about this place?", Bhadra asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Aravind smiled mysteriously. "Well, I have always been connected to this temple."

"Tell me about it." She looked deeper into his eyes, only to find a glimpse of her own secrets that were kept away from the world.

Bhadra lived a simple life, tending to the temple and helping those in need. She didn't remember a time when she was not insanely drawn to the deity. She had always looked up to the blue-hued god who slept on a thousand hooded serpent. She saw him in the vast sky, in her delusional thoughts, in the poetries she wrote, in the songs she sang and in almost everything she did.

She would dream of peacock feathers, moonlit nights and beautiful dense forests where gleamingly blurry visions of her beloved flute player would greet her with bliss and confusion. She would hold on to them to this day and maybe forever, without any expectations but just pure, boundless love that she had.

"Maybe those visions are trying to tell you something? You still get them don't you?"

That deep voice of Aravind broke her chain of thoughts as she looked up at him perplexed and maybe a little annoyed.

"Did you just read my mind?"

He just replied with a cheeky smile as he brought himself dangerously close to her, "Perhaps I just understand you better than anyone else, Bhadra. I have always done so." he gently whispered, only making her confusion grow.

"And I have always wanted to tell you that I love to hear you sing, even though you don't sing often. Your voice melts like honey into my ears. I can listen to it everyday." He looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"How do you say that when you have never heard me sing? Who are you, Aravind?", she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "You seem to know me in ways that no one else does."

He chuckled even as his eyes were moist, "Oh I have heard you countless times. You, my dearest, are much more than you think of yourself to be."

"What do you mean?"

"As much as I want to explain, I can't. He sighed wistfully. "It's sad, but I have to leave now. I will return soon, Bhadra. Until then, promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"Why?" She clearly didn't understand a thing. It didn't seem fair, or so she thought. This man had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, mysterious but familiar, only to say he’d disappear again, leaving her with countless questions. Yet, somehow, it all felt right. Despite not wanting him to leave, she could only hope that he would come back.

Adoring the curls that framed her soft features one last time, Aravind stepped back. "Until next time," he voiced, extending his hand. Bhadra grasped it firmly, losing herself in his eyes as she tearfully bid him goodbye.

"Moley," she heard her father's call and turned around. "I'm here, Appa," she yelled back, hearing his hasty steps as he reached her.

"I knew you'd be here," he said with a warm smile lighting up his kind eyes. "It will be dark soon. I want you to come home with me." He gently caressed her head, and she nodded in agreement.

"Are you okay, kanne? Were you talking to someone here?" He asked, concerned.

Bhadra turned to her side, only to find nobody there and smiled in despair and surprise. It all felt too real to be one of her delusions and too elusive to be reality. She wanted to tell her father about the mysterious person she met but she knew that it would be difficult for him or anyone to believe. So she chose to remain silent about everything that happened today.

"No, Appa. Let's go home" She replied as she followed her father on their way back home.

Today was different indeed.

**********

Moley/Kanne - a way to address a daughter or a little girl in Malayalam.

A/N - Wanted to write something like this for the longest time. This may have some cliche moments but this work by far, is the closest to my heart. And I may turn this into a series if y'all wish. So let's see. I hope you enjoy reading it <3

Tags- @krsnaradhika @houseofbreadpakoda @harinishivaa @achyutapriya @kaal-naagin @sambaridli @sambhavami @yehsahihai @ramayantika @khushireadsandrambles